The entire house is furnished largely in retro, since antiques and old stuff are appealing to us. We especially like small tables and things with drawers. In the living room alone we see an oval gate-leg table where many people have a coffee table (in front of the couch). I have an aversion to coffee tables in the middle of a room. Chalk it up to clumsiness on my part; but I dislike barked shins. This table is quite ornate, with eight "twining vine" legs. It is two feet wide and just under four feet long when opened. Closed, it is a foot wide.
There is a very ornate table in front of a window. It was "found" at auction by my dad many years ago in a much-too painted state. He stripped the table and finished it au naturel wuth Min-wax. It has four curved legs converging on a center post, then splaying outward to their original width. The top is 18" x 30".
The third table sits at the foot of the stairs. It is a 24" round pie-crust table on a fancy post with three delicate legs spreading to a circumference equal to the table top. The top is hinged and can be stored in a vertical position.
The fourth table in this room is a small 2' x 4' drop-leaf that sits at the end of the couch. The legs are spindled and quite delicate, arranged in a trapezoidal array at each end.
Then behind the couch and serving as a divider between the living room and the dining area is an 18" x 66" library table, a very sturdy piece which BBBH had in her shop and which was covered in way-too-many coats of paint, the which I have removed. The object is now bare and unfinished. The debate continues (after two years of preparation). I prefer a natural, Min-wax finish. She prefers an ultra-glossy polyurethane finish. So far, the compromise is a naked table.
The sixth "table" is really a horizontal file cabinet from an old railway station. It sits against the stairwell wall and is the perch for the flat-screen TV. I met it in an antique shop eleven years ago, and such an object with 24 drop-front drawers was a "must have".
On the kitchen divider wall is a sewing cabinet. I have seen several of these in antiques stores, but I believe we have enough of our own!
Finally, next to my recliner from which I write, view TV and nap, and nap, there is an end table on which I keep the remote, the kleenex, the coffee cup, some telephones. Under its top is an L-shaped bookshelf in which to store my current reading material.
Now, if you only knew about the seating, the fireplace and the china cabinets, you could picture this room in your mind's eye!
These tables are pictured on "String Too Short to Tie".
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Moving Van
Cliched though it may be, it is true that all good things come to an end. One's fondest hope is that the end of one good run is but the beginning of an even better one.
Over the past six years, we have elevated ourselves to the point that we are able to rent a moving van, and thus we do not have to rely on borrowing a farm truck. So the truck is backed up to the front porch steps and the loading process gets underway. Our possessions are not sufficient in bulk to require a second trip, especially since we are able to get our clothing into the trunk of the automobile. We are leaving Loonville behind to take up residence in Perfect.
The attempt to find a rental property in our new "hometown" led to a certain degree of frustration. The real tooth-grinder was the following conversation on the telephone.
Runner of the Newspaper Ad (Hereafter designated "RNA"): Hello!
I: Good morning. My name is Vanilla (or perhaps I used my real name) and we are planning to move into this community. I understand you have a house to rent.
RNA: Yes, sir, I have. May I ask what you do for a living?
I: I am a teacher and I have been hired by your local school board to teach math at the junior high school.
RNA: I see. Well, Vanilla, this house is located on Green Street, which is a pretty desirable location. Teachers tend to be transient and unreliable, so I think I shall have to let the place to someone else. But thank you for calling.
I wish I were making this up. But sometimes the most aggravating experiences are blessings in disguise-- deep disguise sometimes, as in this case. We did find a suitable place-- less than a block from Green Street. As it turned out, we eventually bought the house and lived in it for twenty-two years. Then they let me move to Green Street.
Loonville faded into the distance in the rear view mirrors as the vehicle smoothly cruised between the walls of corn on either side of the road. We were moving ahead, forward into the Perfect phase of our lives.
© 2010 David W. Lacy
Over the past six years, we have elevated ourselves to the point that we are able to rent a moving van, and thus we do not have to rely on borrowing a farm truck. So the truck is backed up to the front porch steps and the loading process gets underway. Our possessions are not sufficient in bulk to require a second trip, especially since we are able to get our clothing into the trunk of the automobile. We are leaving Loonville behind to take up residence in Perfect.
The attempt to find a rental property in our new "hometown" led to a certain degree of frustration. The real tooth-grinder was the following conversation on the telephone.
Runner of the Newspaper Ad (Hereafter designated "RNA"): Hello!
I: Good morning. My name is Vanilla (or perhaps I used my real name) and we are planning to move into this community. I understand you have a house to rent.
RNA: Yes, sir, I have. May I ask what you do for a living?
I: I am a teacher and I have been hired by your local school board to teach math at the junior high school.
RNA: I see. Well, Vanilla, this house is located on Green Street, which is a pretty desirable location. Teachers tend to be transient and unreliable, so I think I shall have to let the place to someone else. But thank you for calling.
I wish I were making this up. But sometimes the most aggravating experiences are blessings in disguise-- deep disguise sometimes, as in this case. We did find a suitable place-- less than a block from Green Street. As it turned out, we eventually bought the house and lived in it for twenty-two years. Then they let me move to Green Street.
Loonville faded into the distance in the rear view mirrors as the vehicle smoothly cruised between the walls of corn on either side of the road. We were moving ahead, forward into the Perfect phase of our lives.
© 2010 David W. Lacy
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