Red, Bloody Red

Oh, the horror! Every unworn item in my closet is red. All my "new" clothing is second hand,  but why am I giving house room to things I don't wear?  

Sometimes I am seduced by fabric. Oh hey, that's linen! Linen is comfortable! Color didn't matter. It was linen, glorious breathable linen, and the sun outside was brutal. 

Sometimes intricate seaming  persuades me that living without the skirt is not to be borne. The only way to make it work for a short person is to eliminate a good many of those delicious seams. Feh!

 And sometimes, I think an alien being was practicing mind control on me in the store, because I'll never wear red linen pants with a striped and embroidered top. Too costumey! Bring on the swansdown mules and cat's-eye glasses, and we'll have loungewear circa 1956.

A Guatemalan jacket in roughly woven, riotously striped cotton is something I might actually wear. It sat in the closet until I took it apart, cut it down, and put it back together.

Sadly, you can't see the seams.

What about the skirt with multiple godets and fascinating seamwork? Once upon a time things were only 6 inches too long. This skirt is a foot too long. It will lose all its flare, not to mention flair, if I cut that much from the bottom. I must remove the zipper, cut a foot from the top, put the zipper back in, and, I hope, decrease the waist. 

Desk Failure

This was meant to be a success story. It is instead a story of the triumph of hope over reality. I found a 3 legged desk with pigeon holes in the alley a few years ago, but before I could do more than disassemble it for refinishing, I moved. At one point I had leg #4 made for it, and bought hardware to attach it. I sanded the legs, primed them, hunted for the other pieces ... and discovered that one of the original 3 legs was missing.

The project went on the back burner. I found a set of 4 top mounting table legs and thought the matter was resolved. But this summer when I attached the legs, not only did they look spindly, they wobbled. I couldn't use one of the new legs with 3 others, because they were longer. To complicate matters, the corner bracket for the missing leg was also missing and a chunk of wood was gone.

A sane person would have put the table back in the alley, but I went in search of a second corner bracket. Of course I had forgotten who made them, and had misplaced the first one. I tried to duplicate the pieces at Ace, where I found the right size nuts but no bolts or brackets. Home Depot, as usual, had brand new clerks who were willing to help me look but were clueless.  My last stop was Lowe's, a place I try to avoid because its ventilation is not good. There they were, beside a display of table legs and an assortment of leg mounts. (Waddell makes them, Lowe's sells them, and they are so simple that I can install them). They had even gone down in price since I first bought one.

Meantime back at home, the pieces to the table had decided to scatter. The baggie containing the perfect nuts vanished. The original corner bracket, still shrink wrapped to its cardboard, was no longer in the basket where I stash all my nuts, bolts, screws and nails. The backboard that would support the tiny pigeon holes that make this table/desk so cute was nowhere to be found. 

Slightly daunted, I found a piece of wood from a deconstructed pallet and, using a circular saw for the first and possibly ONLY time, cut it down for leg #4. After sanding, spackling and resanding, I had 4 legs, two with bolts. Marking the new bolt holes was simple. Finding the size drill bit called for by the manufacturer meant another trip to Lowe's. I found 5/32 drill bits, and 17/32 drill bits. A salesperson found the 9/32 bit, for under $4. I was on my way again. 

Have you ever tried to drill a hole on a protruding corner? Not easy. I carved away a small bit of the corners, drilled with a smaller bit, then with the larger one. The table was primed and had its first coat of spray paint. It had the original two legs. And ... the bolts on the new legs were too high. I turned the legs, filled the holes and started over. I filled in the missing chunk of wood with wood filler and attached the corner brackets.

pigeon hole pieces

The backboard reappeared. It was in the garage approximately where it had been dumped by movers years ago. In other words, I had to move a lot of stuff and climb over boxes to get to it. The drawer has lost its back, but all the pigeon hole pieces and the pencil tray are in the same 10 x 10 foot room with the desk. I'm learning. I have no idea where the original screws that held the pigeonholes cubbies to the backboard are. I also have no idea whether I will use the  pigeon holes and backboard, but they get painted anyway. I'll laminate layers of cardboard for the back of the drawer. It couldn't be any more horrible than my bathroom storage furniture, and the backs of shallow desk drawers are rarely wet.

It is still a 3-legged desk. Wood filler is not strong enough to hold a screw in place. Laminated cardboard is next. The bolt is fine. It is the screw holding one side of the corner bracket that is the problem. I really should abandon this project entirely, but instead it goes back to the garage while I attack less demanding projects, such as dinner.

Don't Believe Everything You Read

One would assume that anything sold as bathroom storage furniture would be okay in a humid environment, such as a bathroom or the entire state of Ohio. One would be wrong.

Bathroom furniture bought at big box stores, the kind you put together yourself, is really cardboard. Why it is sold as bathroom furniture when it is not waterproof or even water resistant, I don't know. It should have come with a warning label that says DON'T USE NEAR WATER. Sooner or later the edges will blister.

Top edges buckled up, bottom edges  buckled outward.

You have to refinish the thing immediately, or down the road, say in a month or two, it will look scruffy. After 2 years, you either fix it or replace it. I could spend $4 and fix both cabinets, or I could spend a whole lot more to replace the things. As luck would have it, I had $4.

The fix: white glue and water will seal the edges. Nylon glides on the bottom will keep bottom edges off the floor and away from damp tile. Once you've sealed the edges, blow $3 on a can of spray paint and paint the thing inside and out. Give two or three coats to the top. High gloss spray paint is the best choice to waterproof this junk. I used Rustoleum spray paint.

Once the edges have blistered, you may have to remove a few layers to get the surface flat.  Sealing the new surface with white glue and water is not enough. You need a thin layer of wood filler or spackle before you try to paint it. Alternately, you can put on new adhesive-backed paper and pray that the new stuff works better than whatever they put on to begin with. If you wisely do not trust it, spray paint the adhesive paper once you've got it stuck down.

All this work does not give you a wonderful piece of furniture. It just gives you a less annoyingly ugly one. The moral of the story: if the furniture isn't wood or metal, you must seal all the edges before putting it in a bathroom. Or using it in Ohio.

Moral #2: if you have to refinish it before you use it, buy 2nd hand furniture to begin with.

Color Me Surprised

Lichen green.  It was a compromise color because I could not get the grayed purple I longed for, and it was the only neutral without oodles of yellow. Once it was on the nightstand, I went back and bought more of it because it goes on so well, covers so nicely, and I really like the color. I thought it would be on a nightstand, folding chair, and bathroom storage. That's enough, eh?

Today I brought up from the basement some shelves from  bookcases I've lived with more 30 years or more.  I had thought they were a whispery turquoise, but side by side with other storage, I found the color almost indistinguishable from lichen green.

The one on the left is the original color. The one on the right is the Rustoleum color.

Part of me said, Gee, I'm consistent/predictable. Another part said, of COURSE a double Pisces likes watery colors. While I'm irked to be so predictable, it will be simple to touch up nicks on the bookshelves, or even to completely refinish them.

Five years ago I found a charming child's desk that had pigeon holes on the top. I took it apart to refinish it, and bought  the hardware to put on a fourth leg. Before anything at all happened, I moved.  After the move, I had fourth leg cut and  then could only find two of the original three. The project went on hold for a few years. I bought and installed a set of four legs. They wobbled. I left one of the four with its top mount hardware on, because the desk was damaged in that corner. But I will be using corner mount hardware for the others. The braces are already there. How hard can it be to drill a hole in the side of a table leg? We'll see. However, the pigeonholes that originally delighted me will not be used, because a flat table will be more useful. And yes, this too will be painted lichen green.

While I was attempting to use up 3/4 of a gallon of country white paint because the rim of the can had disintegrated, it occurred to me that paint now comes in plastic, and that Glad plastic food storage containers could hold paint. Now, about a quart is in  food storage container, suitably marked. Whew.

A Little Homework

Garage after things moved out. Lots of work still to do.

 

Living with other people would be simpler if only we didn't come with so much STUFF! I gave away 18 car loads of things before moving my mother from Texas to Ohio 5 years ago.  My house went from slightly under furnished to bursting at the seams.

Our fabric stashes, her vintage quilts, her lace collection, furniture from her garage that I grew up with and wanted to keep, boxes of photos she inherited from sisters, my modern doll collection (I collected nothing older than hard plastic until one day I decided I'd rather have pictures of dolls than dolls), her pottery collection, my books -- they all vied for space and all lost. 

My mother took two cats and an assortment of possessions with her to Texas last week and left stacks of things to be taken to Goodwill, and  now I've  got space! I can see my floors! I can CLEAN my floors easily, without moving things in puzzle formation. I can and do mop and remop some areas that probably didn't get cleaned more than twice in 5 years. I've got the space to overturn chairs and get a good adhesion with the nylon sliders. Hey, this is a big deal for me!

In the formerly crammed to the rafters garage, I can move a couple of boxes, and sand a bookcase or a night table. When I had no time and no space, I occasionally bought a can of spray paint in an intriguing color: dusty grape, French rose, teal blue.  Now I wonder why I stopped at one can, because a can of paint will cover a wooden chair or an end table, but a 3 x 4 foot bookcase takes 2 cans.

Why spray paint for bookcases? Because it dries quickly. Regular latex paint takes 3 weeks to cure hard enough that  books won't stick to the paint. The first time I heard this horrible fact, I didn't believe it. I also didn't believe that someone would endure 3 weeks without books just to have bookcases painted in a color, and 3 more weeks after they covered the latex with clear polyurethane.

I have hopes of moving my books (My name is Mimi, and I am a bookaholic) from boxes in the basement to bookcases on the first floor. Some people can read a book just once and never go back to it. If it is truly satisfying, I hang onto it because there will come a day when I NEED a very good book, as opposed to a competent book or a collection of words masquerading as a book.

 

Discovery: Krylon's idea of plum is actually screaming roaring Dayglo purple. My idea of plum is a black with purple overtones. Discovery: Kilz primer in a can comes out as lumpy foam no matter how long  and how often you shake the can. It dries quickly and requires oodles of sanding.  Discovery: the can for 5-year old Behr paint holds up well but does not protect the contents.  The paint inside is a hockey puck. Discovery: the can for 6 year old Valspar rots around the rim. After opening the paint and stirring it up, I must use it on everything because that can is never closing again. Never ever.

Country White is everywhere, on a formerly depressingly dark bookcase, on a putridly pastel green bookcase, on a desk rescued from an alley and given with new legs. There's no shine at all, but it's a thick paint that covers well. Every brushstroke shows, but wet/dry sandpaper and a lot of elbow grease will smooth the paint. I am contemplating spraying on a polyurethane for a small gloss, simply because glossy paint doesn't seem to attract and keep as much dust. I'm sure there are learned studies somewhere on dust adhesion and paint surfaces, but I have not consulted them.

Some of the pieces I've been sanding, scraping, refinishing, reeling in horror from.

Relearning -- sewing for myself

After 25 years in which the only sewing for humans was mending, I am seriously sewing-impaired. I have distant memories of being able to cut a patterns and sew the item within hours. 

In the early days of my return to sewing for people, I created neatly sewn items for small, young relatives. This didn't help me adjust to my larger size. Then, threads were trimmed and facings were neatly in place. Now I sew with basting stitches and slash and whack with abandon, more or less creating my garment as I go along. The result is clothing that fits, but don't look at the seams. And don't look in my trashcan, because there are far too many broken needles scattered among the shreds of thread, tissue paper and fabric. Oh, don't look too closely that the clothing either, because threads dangle and there may be a pin somewhere.

I'm averaging 1.2 needles per zipper. If I remember to change the needle position in time, then I hit the metal glide stops. It is possible that with care and attention to detail, I will move beyond my current role of Doom to Sewing  Needles. It is possible that if I follow the instructions in the zipper package enough, they will begin to make sense. It is also possible that I will go back to hand basting every zipper the way I used to when I was 12.

I should not complain. If you don't ride bicycles for 25 years, it takes awhile to get your balance. I can't expect to sew nicely for myself after 25 years of sewing only for dolls. Dolls are one fifth my height, and made of plastic. They don't complain about fit. They have yet to demand that I use  invisible zippers. We won't even talk about comparative weight.

My expectations are out of whack. I want my home sewn creations to fit better than store bought.  I've achieved that. But I also want them to be free of dangling threads, and I want all the thread snarls to be invisible. This is not going to happen, because often I get entranced by a fabric and want to use it regardless. My gauze shorts have more seams than they ought to, and each seam is double sewn and zigzagged.  My Eddie Bauer wrap skirt became shorts, and yes, there are pieces left over, but Oh, it was close. I had to piece the rear. Well, I won't see the rear when I'm wearing the shorts, and they do feel good.

I know I ought to fold and pin and use the machine hemstitch on hems for my shorts. Instead I  folded and topstitched. Twice.

I wanted a waistband that would accommodate  normal expansion when I sit. It does. It stands out around me when I stand, though, and must be hidden under shirts and  blouses. The jury is not in on whether a comfortable waistband that looks like hell is better than a waistband that looks good as it strangles one.

My pockets are patch pockets that I don't even cut out until the side seams work properly. Someday this will bother me.

What bothers me at the moment is that it took a revolution for me to get back to sewing for myself, as if sewing for myself were somehow selfish. In fact, it is necessary. The feeling of accomplishment that comes from finally getting something to fit is good for my soul. I may be a better human being because I have a visible result. I am a happier one, now that I no longer have to settle for the least offensive commercially manufactured clothing.

Wedding Guest as Sofa Cushion

I created the perfect outfit for a  garden wedding: flowing floral skirt, blouse whose print matched a flower in the skirt print, buttons the shape of the flower.  I created it for someone who is roughly six inches taller than I am. I discovered this when I tried it on in front of a mirror.

The first set of culottes was more like gauchos, and I abandoned patterns of my own drafting for a more skirt-like commercial pattern, which turned out to be skirt like only in front. I redrafted the back to be skirt-like and was thrilled with it until I paired it with the blouse, which works very well with the gaucho silhouette and not at all with the skirt. At least not on me. The blouse looks fine with the gauchos but as casual attire, not as anything to wear to a wedding.

I contemplated adding poufy sleeves, so my blouse would more closely resembled the one the pattern front paired with its culottes. I drafted a sleeve pattern on tissue, folded and pinned it, slid it on, and abandoned the entire concept. 

It was now the day before the wedding. I could hem the trial dress of my dreams and wear it. Wear a dress made from upholstery fabric? Wear a dress whose fitting errors were quite visible?  In the end, that's what I did, because the colors are nice and the shape is good. While we were out in the heat and humidity, it was fine. Indoors, in air conditioning, I wished I had worn chinos and a tshirt. 

Upholstery fabric rendered as dress. Yes, I wore this to a wedding.