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A lovely couple from Orillia drove down and, with masks, picked up this piece. I was so in love with it, but it was to big for my little livingroom/dining room.
DESCRIPTION: If you google “Antique Empire Console value” you’ll see they can cost over a thousand dollars. I’m selling this one for $250. It’s a genuine antique, so it’s only natural to have some signs of wear. It has been lovingly repaired and hand-painted in black and grey mineral paint, adorned with antique glass knobs, and covered with several layers of protective coating. The drawer features dove-tail joinery and has been stencilled to be extra-fancy. The date “March 1934″ has been scrawled on the back of the drawer along with some measurements and calculations which might mean that 1934 is the year it was repaired and in fact, it was built earlier. Perfect for a large foyer or under a TV as shown. Can also function as a standing desk, room divider, or sofa table. DIMENSIONS (approx.): 42″ wide x 21″ deep at top (23” at feet) x 37″ tall. Drawer interior is 33” wide x 17-1/2” deep x 3” high.
Someone trespassed my property and peered in my windows this week—footprints in the snow tell me it was a man with large feet. He opened the gate, climbed the deck stairs, walked the length of my wrap-around deck, and checked things out. So I call Bell Security to get video, and they tell me I never set up my cameras properly, so tough luck. I’ve been paying a monthly fee for these for over a year. I spent ages on the phone Wednesday setting the cameras up, only to have to call back Thursday because the camera under the deck—the most likely break-in spot—still wasn’t recording. Now I get an email, a text alert and a lock-screen alert every time the dog goes in AND out, and when a squirrel runs across my lower patio. But I’m not changing that. I’m entitled to 6000 clips a month. So be it. I won’t get into Bell’s nonsense around my cell phone. #BellCanada nonsense.
In addition, I’ve been battling with Manulife over monies not paid to me from the CoverMe policy I pay for. I was promised—in writing—that someone would call me. No one has. Yesterday, I get a message from my other Manulife account—the one I got from Canadian Tire when I retired, that I owe them money. Jeez, Manulife. You owe yourself money. Just get the one to pay the other and leave me out of it. I have canceled my CoverMe policy with them. #Manulife sucks
BUT WAIT…THERE’S ALSO GOOD NEWS. Yesterday, I booked my shuttle online to get me from Mexico City Airport to my rented apartment in San Miguel de Allende 4 hours away. When I got the confirmation email, I realized I’d filled it out wrong. I emailed them back. Then…THEY CALLED ME. FROM MEXICO!!! A lovely, English-speaking man called to make sure I got what I wanted. Because I’m travelling alone, the cost for a car doubles (US$75 each for a minimum of 2 people, so US$150 if it’s just me). Instead, we’ve booked me on a bus/taxi combo, which is US$85. But if someone else books that day (which always happens), they’ll switch me and let me know. The van holds 8 so even if a family arrives around the same time I do, there’s room for one more. And it’s all confirmed in an email that arrived 5 minutes after the call. Now that’s customer service.
In 2019, I read mostly fiction audiobooks:
148….Number of books started
16……Number of books I didn’t finish
1……Number of booksI skipped to the end
131….For a total books read/listened to in 2019
(I also read nonfiction on upcycling and self-publishing.)
I read mostly mystery, as that is my new passion, and what I’m writing now. All my previous books have a “whodunnit” plotline—Who’s selling the designer drugs? (Shift Happens), Who’s stealing shadows? (Lost Boys 2.0) Who’s sabotaging our invention? (Re-Inventing Love), and more.
AND THE WINNER IS… My favourite book of 2019 is actually a series: the Andy Carpenter series by David Rosenfelt. Every book features a dog. The books are witty, intelligent, and have an amazing cast of characters. I learned a lot about writing characters—they’re good, bad, the best, stereotypes (the hooker with the heart of gold), and stereotypes turned on their heads (the little old lady who cooks a mean rugelach and can breach any firewall.) I laughed out loud and am waitlisted at the library for those I haven’t read. Can’t wait!
In the meantime, I read copious How to Succeed at Self-Publishing (this time!) such as “Newsletter Ninja” by Tammy Labrecque, “Six Figure Author” by Chris Fox, “How to Be a Successful Indie Author” by Craig Martelle, and listen to Mark Dawson’s Self Publishing Show podcasts 1 a day. This time, it’s going to work!
My kitchen is small, originally with golden oak cabinets in one corner. When I first moved in, I had the painter paint the lowers dark grey and the uppers lighter grey, both darker than the walls (all of which I know now I could have done myself). But… my kitchen looked junky. Plus I needed more storage space.
I looked at adding cabinets, shelves or other small kitchen alternatives. I hunted from Ikea to the ReStore. After finding Upcycler’s Anonymous, a Facebook group of 60k+ people from all over the world and seeing the gorgeous work they do, I decided to upcycle a china cabinet. I then watched Facebook marketplace for just the right one. Before long, a faux Mission Style cabinet popped up for $175.00 located in the next town over. If I knew then what I know now, I would have waited, because china cabinets are often given away free; I’ve seen some nice ones, too. But hindsight, like this year, is 2020. So I recruited my nephews, rented a truck. and off we went amid ice and snow in March to pick up this badboy.
Then it sat in my garage in two pieces, side-by-side, until July, completely blocking everything. “Why did it sit so long?” you ask. Sure you did. Because this newbie needed to be good enough at upcycling to tackle an important (to me) piece. So I practiced on some side tables and benches (see previous posts), and eventually decided I was ready.
I bought two wheeled hand carts, so I needed no help to wheel the pieces out of the garage and onto the driveway. I tackled the base first. I removed the drawers, doors, shelves and hardware. I sanded, prepped, painted the inside white with primer, and the outside with black Fusion Mineral Paint. I had the neighbour help me move it indoors, where I re-installed the drawers and doors and shelves. The best part was that the cupboard doors in the base were comprised of square “bars” over a back that just pulled out, having been held in with tiny staples.
By painting the backing white and the “bars” black, I achieved a perfect black and white striped look that goes perfectly with my decor.
I then painted to upper piece, first removing the glass sides and the back. The back was mirrored, which, once it was filled, would look terribly cluttered, so I removed the mirrors. The wood underneath wasn’t great quality, but two coats of primer plus three coats of Fusion Champlain, and it was acceptable.
At this point, I bought a spray gun, and the painting sped up. It took two more trips to install it–one to lug the frame into the house, where I re-attached the back while it sat in the front hall, and then again lifting it onto the base. At that point, I re-attached the glass sides and the door hardware and lastly, installed the glass shelves.
It fit along the wall opposite the cabinets as if made for it, and as both the sides and the front cabinet doors are glass, it doesn’t block the light from the passthrough.
I couldn’t be more pleased. Now I have, as my mother used to say, “A place for everything and everything in its place.”
And of course, because I had googled “Black China Cabinets,” Facebook keeps sticking this one in my feed:
$7,690, Facebook? Srsly? Have you met me? And that’s American $s, before taxes and shipping. I don’t happen to have a spare $10,000 on me. I like mine better. I figure, by the time I was done, I’d spent:
$175 Cdn, for the cabinet, no taxes
$100 truck rental,
$30 wine for nephews
$50 in paint (probably less because I’d bought a box of assorted Fusion paint and accessories from Facebook Marketplace for $50 and it included both almost full jars of Coal Black and of Champlain.)
So, let’s call it $350. Versus $10,000. Anyone wondering why we upcycle?
Now, on to the final piece of furniture I need to complete my home. Bet you can’t wait to see what I do with an antique dresser!
You may recall the little storage footstool that had been one of my first practice projects. Snagged at a thrift store for $4, I was so pleased with how it turned out.
Then disaster struck–the hinged unhinged. And I didn’t know what to do. It sat lonely and discarded while I worked on other projects. So sad.
But then… someone posted the same little footstool for sale on Facebook Marketplace. With pictures, one of which showed the proper placement of the hardware. You were right, @JoanLeacott. They go inside.
And so, armed with my fancy new cordless screwdriver… Wzzzt! Wzzzt! times 4 and it was good as new. Better, even, as it never looked this good.
A happy ending. The footstool and I will live happily ever after.
I tend to think of upcycling as saving things from becoming landfill, upgrading their worth, making them whole and beautiful again, but it’s also upgrading things not destined for landfill.
Hence this post in which I show you how to upgrade your builder-grade mirrors.
Here’s the before picture. As you can see, I’ve already added an over-the-john cabinet purchased on sale at Canadian Tire, and a clock I snagged on Facebook Marketplace for $5. The walls are the lovely mist grey that I’ve used throughout the house, and the light fixtures are from Lowes–on sale of course.
At some point, when I get braver, I’ll probably paint the countertop (the vanity is already painted–so long golden oak), then replace the sink and the faucet. But it’s not a priority, so…
I googled “framing mirrors” and the internet did not disappoint. I decided to follow a particular instructional post I found most helpful. I couldn’t find locally the exact contractor adhesive they’d used, so I ordered it from Amazon. According to the manufacturer’s website, the great thing about it is that it’s “insta-grab” but you can move your piece around for an hour… Or at least that what it claimed.
I visited several stores, including the ReStore and Home Depot, but Lowes had the best trim for framing. I found a sales associate who had done her own mirrors, so we carefully chose 7 pieces that were as straight as possible… mostly. I’d need 4 for the upstairs mirror and 2 for the power room, with an extra just in case. The wood was pre-primed, which was handy–no sanding, prepping or priming required.
I procrastinated on starting because I hadn’t used my miter saw for angled cuts before, but family-friend Hugh had shown me how to make straight cuts and I had an owner’s manual so… I began.
Turned out the dimensions of the mirrors were exactly that of the wood: the mirror was 4 feet by 3 feet and the board was 7 feet. Perfect… except it wasn’t.
Here’s a picture of the wood after I’d carefully measured, cut to size, and painted.
If there were newbie mistakes to be made, I made ’em. Turns out one of the boards wasn’t quite straight, that the insta-grab adhesive didn’t instantly grab, that the mitre saw shifted a bit when the release tab was re-set and that the boards weren’t exactly 7 feet.
But I persevered. I’ll know all this for the next time, although I later decided I preferred my great-grandmother’s gilded mirror for the downstairs powder room and returned 5 pieces of unused wood. Lowes is great about returns. But my niece wants me to do her bathroom mirror too, so I’ll keep you posted.
Here’s a shot of the work-in-progress. The couple in the instructional article said they just used painter’s tape to hold the pieces in place while they dried. Well, painter’s tape is not my friend. It didn’t hold (and this is the expensive Frog Tape everyone raves about on Upcyclers Anonymous). So I ended up putting up first the bottom piece. The bottom of the mirror stuck out about a 1/2 inch from the wall so I used office fold-back clips to hold it in place. Once it had dried overnight, it would support the 2 side pieces, then they’d support the top piece. Hmmm. Turns out one of the side pieces wasn’t straight. If I pushed the top against the wall, the bottom popped out. If I pushed the bottom… I ended up piling 2 heavy file boxes on the counter and using a lip balm to wedge between the wall and the top of the frame to hold it in place. Guess I bought clamps for nothing. o.0
Here’s the finished product. It looks much better than before. You can barely notice that a little bit of the mirror peeking out the top left corner. And hey, for once I used another color than black.
Thanks for reading. Next up… solar lighting. Or possibly, my new patio doors. Stay tuned to find out.
Never before in my life have I ever waffled on something at a thrift store, then come back for it a week later only to find… it was still there. Huh. I should have figured that the other local upcyclers (with whom I’m hoping to connect at some point), had bypassed it because it was just too much work.
But I tossed it in my shopping cart, presented my discount-with-donation card and left the Salvation Army with my proud find. For $8.00.
I posted this picture to Facebook, where my 200 closest friends could admire it. The consensus was it hailed from the 1950s. Some previous upcycler had glued maps on it. I liked the maps, but they were ruined–torn, spilled nail polish… So I began to strip it off. Well… now I know why it was hadn’t been snatched up before I got there the second time.
I tried various chemicals, starting with the least harsh and working up to serious stuff that required goggles, a mask (they said respirator), and thick work gloves. (See my new profile picture.) In between, I tried ironing it with parchment paper between the iron and the glue, as someone on Upcyclers Anonymous suggested. Now that was an interesting learning about parchment paper and glue. So much more than just baking. More on that another day.
So I stripped and I scraped, a long, slow process taking weeks.
Under the maps, I found more paint. Under that layer, I found someone had handpainted bright orange aster blooms on it. Under that was the white paint you can see in the shots, which was probably lead-based and now I’m going to die. But not before I finish this blog post. I stopped stripping when I reached the white paint and just painted over it.
The legs were wobbly and there was no way to get at any nails or screws, so I built up little supports where the legs met the lower drawer using very old wood filler that I’d gotten custody of in the divorce. It worked, but it’s less than lovely. Afterward, I bought new wood filler that wasn’t 10 years past its expiry date.
The inside of the drawers still had the original flocking which I wanted to keep, so I washed it with dish soap, let it dry and discovered in doing so, I’d caused one of the drawers to bow outwards, meaning it would no longer fit in its slot. So I re-wet it, affixed a large clamp in the middle, tightened and let dry. Voila! A little bar soap (will rub the sides with an unscented candle next time), and the drawers slid seamlessly home.
Next, I painted the drawer fronts white and the body black. Sadly, I had accidentally damaged some of the veneer when scraping, making noticeable dings and dents.
The great thing about paint is that you can repaint! So the top became black and the drawer fronts gold. I used a cheap gold paint from the dollar store, so it looks a little orangey, but still.
Then I tried a stencil. I liked it, although it ran a bit.
I wanted to save the antique drawer pulls for another project, so dove into my for-donation bin and retrieved the knobs from my re-painted kitchen cabinets. (Goodbye, golden oak). I got my friend Hugh to show me how to use my new drill*. (*See my first upcycler post “Girls Don’t Need Tools.”) And it worked! First I used red nail polish over the golden oak “button,” didn’t like it so repainted them with black nail polish.
Everything got a coat of polyacrylic to protect the paint.
And the finished product now sits in by my front door where the light is dim enough to mask the imperfections. And I love it!
Oh, no! My beautiful little footstool came apart. Whatever shall I do?
Always the silver lining type, I’ll use the fact that the screws came out as an opportunity to recover it in better quality striped material. Same great look, lots less dog hair.
Then I’ll use my brand new drill, which I finally learned how to use, to make a more secure fix for the hardware. Stay tuned to see how it all turns out… and the oft-times amusing steps along the way.
Not to leave on a disastrous note, here are 2 trays and a trivet I painted this weekend. And remember my advice about always taking lots of pictures? Oops. But still… (Tangerine added for scale.) Notice there’s no bleed on the stencil this time. I think I’m getting the hang of it.
Next up, the butler’s table.
I’d acquired it in a garage sale years ago, and decided to paint it black, too. Surprise! The challenge there was figuring out how to brace the scissor-like legs in such a way that I could paint them, especially, the part right at the join.
Weirdly, I found I had exactly the right amount and width of grosgrain ribbon and also? Exactly the right number of brass upholstery tacks–eight. No idea where either item came from, but there they were, among the things I’d moved from my old house.
Here’s what I mean: The match-nothing orange-y wood crossed legs on the left, became the dashing black legs at the back of the picture on the left. (Oh, look, there’s the bench again.)
I didn’t get pictures of the top while work-in progress. Suffice it to say it went from ugly orange wood to beautiful black, too.
Someone had cleverly figured out that to tack grosgrain ribbon on the top of the legs, then wind it around and tack it on the other side, would keep the table from collapsing. Except, the first one was easy, I had to manipulate the hell out of the scissor mechanism legs to first, remove the old tacks, then to hammer in the new ones. But the great thing about paint, is that you can easily cover any errant hammer whacks. And I did.
And the final product… sits at the top of my stairs, conveniently where I drop anything that needs to go down.
Today’s newbie lesson is—take pictures of everything!
Pictures are important—not just so I can show off my “before and after,” but because in this case, once I finished painting and reupholstering the little bench, I couldn’t recall how the two pieces fit together.
So I got creative…
But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?
I bought the little bench at Salvation Army for Cdn$8.00, less donation discount. (You donate, they give you a coupon. It’s a slightly better deal than the senior’s discount. At the SA, every day is senior’s day. Gotta love ‘em.)
I brought it home and took it apart, failing to document how.
It was old—I did battle with scores of staples that the previous recycler had used to cover it with a very light cotton—not upholstery fabric at all. Once that was off, I tackled the original cover, which was nailed on with rusty upholstery tacks. They were old, tiny and dug deep in the aging wood. How was I ever going to get them off?
I belong to a number of Facebook upcycling groups. Just as I needed it, someone posted about a tool called a tack-lifter. I’m now the proud owner of one:
Once I had the original, gross fabric off, I discovered it had been stuffed with straw and a bit of horse hair which was tightly packed down from the hundreds of butts that had planted on the bench over the decades. Luckily, there was one nice day in December when I was able to take all the messy stuff outside to strip and sand. The ancient stuffing went a blowing in the wind and will no doubt be incorporated into various bird nests this spring.
Although there was a lot of space to grab the bench, I had to grab it by one rusty tack. A quick call to my doctor, and I am reassured I’m not due for a tetanus booster till next year. Whew!
The legs had been a bit rickety, but once I painted it, it seem stable enough. I dunno if paint in the joints is enough to keep it steady forever, but so far, so good.
I had sanded and prepped several projects, and painted them all at once, too. Here’s a shot of my work-in-progresses: the bench, my great-grandmother’s sewing box, and a folding butler’s table. Here’s the before paint and after:
Next up, I would reupholster the bench. It consisted at this point, of a nice piece of wood the size of the top of the bench. And nothing else. Since I’d found recovering the little footstool fairly simple, I thought I’d do the same with the bench. Only this time, I wasn’t just covering over the original fabric and padding.
I cut out the needed amount in the better striped fabric—polished cotton, formerly a high quality curtain obtained from Salvation Army for a couple of bucks and carefully picked apart into 2 pieces.
I’d recovered my dining room chairs a while back, so I knew I needed foam. (Let’s have a moment of silence for the gone but not forgotten Designer Fabric store formerly on Queen Street.) I drove up the Fabricland in Newmarket. It turned out to be very expensive and they didn’t have any in stock anyway. I cast about for other solutions—seemed silly to put $40 worth of foam on an $8 bench, and I needed a solution going forward or I’d narrow my profit margin on anything I sold. I considered buying another piece of furniture and cannibalizing the foam. Value Village had some stadium cushions, but they weren’t cheap either. Then I noticed I had brought a large cushion with me to the new house. Weird, becaue it was for an outdoor chaise lounge that I no longer owned. It was sweat-stained and grimy. By rights (and Marie Kondo) I should have purged it. But now I’m glad I didn’t. “It must have foam inside,” I said to my dog, because it was still very puffy after years of use. So I cut it open—and found it was filled with nothing but batting. And I’d already bought batting (for $2 at SA). But I figured if it could fill the outdoor cushion, it could fill my bench. It was just for me, and I could always re-do it, right?
So I stuffed and covered it, my trusty staple gun at the ready. Now I had two finished pieces: a painted body and a reupolstered bench seat, pictured below.
The whole process had been slow, but steady. Sadly now, it ground to a halt. I couldn’t recall how the seat attached to the bench. There was no way to nail it in. Should I glue it on? I know that’s not how it was.
But casting around my workshop, I remembered I had double-sided Velcro squares in my sewing kit. Since all the pressure would be downwards, it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t the most secure way of connecting the two pieces. So that’s what I did.
And here’s the final bench, sitting proudly in my front hall for timely boot removal.