The Slow Climb Back To Normal, And An Old Oak Table in Distress

I know.  I know.  
Normal?  Seriously?

Well, we're talking as close to normal as

That Old House ever gets.

Oh come on, confess.  How normal is your house?

So, the big fresh Christmas tree in the Conservatory came down,

the fallen needles got vacuumed up, the chandelier was re-hung,

and the table put back in place.

Notice anything odd? 

The center leg looks like it's been on an all-night bender

and can't stand up straight.  Because it can't.  Not for long.
It also goes AWOL and falls off, if given the chance.

This is a grand old oak table that was in my Great Aunt Margaret's

Brooklyn home.  Long, long ago.  It has countless leaves,

and can stretch out to about 6 miles long.

Here it is, in January 2010, in the Sunroom with the old wall color,

old carpeting, and our dear old dog Dion.

We used to be able to carefully stretch it out to accommodate 

at least several of those leaves, but now?  Everything falls apart.

Also January 2010

We managed this past Thanksgiving to put in some leaves,

but it was touch-and-go, and our guests never knew how close

they came to wearing their gravy in their laps.  I hope.

Moving the table into the kitchen for Christmas,

to make room for the tree in the Conservatory, was an adventure.

Parts fell off.  Legs.  Screws (below). 

Random bits of dry old wood exploded out of its innards.

We made a stab at fixing it, but it was at best a Band-Aid on a compound fracture.

The working mechanisms for an old table like this,

with their many moving parts, are elaborate, intricate, delicate,

clever, and completely ingenious.  Trouble is, me and Howard?

Clever and ingenious do not describe our woodworking skills.

Conservatory, Oct 2010, new carpeting, new paint.  Old table - still working.

 So now we need to decide, Howard and I, how to fix a much-loved table
that has served my family, in one house or another, for a century.

I've called a couple of furniture restorers; so far, no one's returned my call.

I suspect no one wants to tackle this table!

Meanwhile,

the table is usable, without any leaves; we don't mind the bit
of wiggle, and we're careful not to stress the dear old thing.

 Today, I realized it needed a quick centerpiece,

and had a pinecone wreath ready to help out.

The snowman looks silly, but he asked for a chance at stardom.

 I thought the glass with the silver balls would work.  But -- no.

This one, below, looks ... well, it looks awful.  Dreadful.

It's a bad thing to mix growing greens with plastic ones.

The winner of the world's Saddest Philodendron Award.

Finally.  Below.  Good enough, and doesn't make me cringe.

 A lantern, left over from a wedding at a country club.

We did not steal it.  Really.  No, really.  Probably.

Anyway, the gold blob inside is an LED battery powered candle, of realistic wax,

that, just like a real candle, melted into goo in the sun.

Now that's what I call realism!  :-)

Equally real -- the difficulty of getting melted wax out of the darned lantern.

Okay, done.  Wrote this piece Friday, then got distracted, and am finally

posting in the wee hours of Saturday morning.  Yawn.

Happy weekend! -- Cass

It's Feathered Nest Friday at the French Country Cottage.  Click here!

My Romantic Home is home to Show And Tell Friday.  Click here!

At The Charm of Home, it's Home Sweet Home Friday.  Click here!

A Craigslist Jaunt to Pennsylvania

As I've said before, North Jersey Craigslist
nearly always comes through for me.
But this time, it's the Philadelphia CL that

is luring me thither (good word!) with 4 chairs.

Said chairs are destined for our conservatory, 

to go 'round the old oak table.

Because it seriously needs some chair love.

I have been looking for a long time; I thought I'd found

the ones last year, but Howard hates them.

Back on the prowl.

A very nice lady who lives on Philly's Main Line

is selling two of these chairs:

And two of these chairs:

I like them.

Once again, like the coffee table we recently bought,

they are not what I was looking for.

But they leaped out from the pages of Craigslist, and, 

as my Mom used to say, they licked my hand.

I kind of hated when she used that phrase, but now I know what she meant.

I hope, when I see them, that I like them.

Because I can't wait to plop them around this table.

Keep your fingers crossed that they get the Howard seal of approval.

My sister-in-law Phyllis is joining me again today, so it's into

the Big Blue Minivan we'll go, for the wilds of Pennsylvania.

Yes, because the Main Line is so wild and wooly....

**********************

On Saturday, this past weekend, Howard and I went back to the

farmhouse estate sale Phyllis and I had gone to on Friday.  

We got something lovely, but we came

away with heavy hearts, and I am still haunted.

Full story tomorrow....

**********************

Wish us luck with today's Craigslist adventure!

There's always that exhilarating risk of ending up in

someone's basement chest freezer, but Phyllis always has her

knitting needles with her, and knows how to use them.  I think we're safe.

Cass

Metamorphosis Monday -- A Conservative Conservatory

It's Metamorphosis Monday -- or at least it is for the next 75 or so minutes. It was a snowy crazy day here, and my computer was held hostage by a ruthless capitalist all day long!

But I'm sneaking this one in just under the wire, I hope.... and thanks to Susan of Between Naps On the Porch for hosting! Click here for more stories of magical metamorphii. Or whatever the plural is!

My story is simple, incomplete, and I hope some of you can help write the ending!

Once upon a time... ok, last March... we bought an old house. I love all its old spaces and nooks, but one of the best spots in That Old House is not quite ten years old -- the conservatory.



Previous owners had it built, replacing an open porch that ran along the kitchen "el" of the house. You can see it here, on the right side of the house, if you promise not to look at the peeling old yellow paint and crooked shutters!



Here's my husband, last March, strolling through the sunroom, carrying some unidentified large thing -- I think a shade destined for the give-away pile -- when we were in the paint-before-we-move-in phase:

This picture was taken from the kitchen.


An impromptu meal at a temporary table in the "eating" end of the room.
My girls home for spring break, and roped into house fix-up.

Hey, they went to Alabama to work on Katrina homes! Fair's fair.

:-)

Next picture .... moving day, May 2008, in the pouring rain. Ugh.
And, this room has off-white wall to wall carpeting.

Say it with me now, ladies and gents: "What were they thinking?"

By the end of this day, the room was full of boxes, mud,
exhausted wet people and dogs, and very dirty carpet.

I took down the lace curtains, decided we were not ready to replace the
off-white carpeting just yet, and decided to keep the gold color paint for the time being.

So we did a mini-metamorphosis.

In our book-lined family room at the last house,
we had two leather love seats. They are now in the conservatory here,
along with a club chair we moved out of our study when my husband
decided that he wanted (no, deserved) a recliner in the room with the TV.

Presto! A place to sit and chat:
And at the other end of the room, a wonderful old oak table.
Because, ummm boy, we do like our meals, and
so do our friends and family!

This old oak table has a very interesting past. . . but that is a story for a different post!
(Hint: I didn't have to pay for it.)

Don't you love the toe nails on the big feet?

This amazing table has endless leaves, and expands to about ten feet long. Wonderful for holidays, and thankfully there's enough room in the conservatory to let it stretch!

There's still a long way to go in this metamorphosis from empty shell to comfortable sunroom/family room/room off the kitchen.

Big decisions -- what to do about the floor? You walk right into this room from the patio, and it's the entrance most used by everyone, family and friends. Carpeting this pale is a nightmare. The kitchen next door has stone-look ceramic tile, and we'd never be able to match it. Wood? Pricey. Laminate? I worry about moisture with everyone using this entrance right from ground level. More carpet? Aaarrgghhh!!!!!!

The other thing... window coverings. We have none now. What should we get? Any? There's a limit to how much we want to entertain the neighbors, plus the windows get this reflective spooky-black-hole look at night.

See what I mean? Those black windows and ceiling are a little creepy.
One of my possible ghost sightings was in this room. . .
but that story, too, is for another post.

I don't want heavy drapes or shades, and the windows need to swing open, but I'd like something that would give at least the illusion of a bit of privacy when wanted.

What do you think?
Any inspiration?

And why am I so late with this post?

We got about 8-inches of snow today in my part of New Jersey, so my husband decided not to trek to Manhattan, and worked instead from home on my computer.


Sadly, he actually works when he says he will, so I didn't have computer access all day. Hence, the very late post, just squeaking in for Met Monday.

But, boy -- that snow is sure pretty. Howard took these pics; I stayed in with the conservatory heater keeping me nice and toasty!

And about that recliner Howard says he deserves? He is right.
But that doesn't mean he gets to pick it out!

How Cold Is It?

Looks like this rooster is peering through frosted glass, doesn't it? The type of crackly frosted glass you see on old fashioned shower doors.

But, no. This rooster is actually looking out of one of our sunroom windows, thick-coated with ice, courtesy of Mother Nature and her morning's wicked wintry mix.
Those are our sunroom doors. And I need to actually open them and venture out, soon, to take my dogs out. I don't want to do this, really I don't. Those dark blobs glimpsed through the ice are arborvitae shrubs. Even they look cold.

Spring can't come soon enough.

People Who Live in Glass Houses . . .

. . . always know when it is raining.

Howard and I looked at this old house several times before signing a contract to buy it. It was always in clear weather. The day we took possession of it, it was raining. Pouring. Noah-style, cats-and-dogs weather.

We went right from our lawyer's office to our new house. Dashed from the car, down the old stone steps, splashed through the puddles on the patio, and fumbled with the keys to open the French doors into the conservatory.

Ah, inside at last, where it was dry and ... and ... and ... noisy! Incredibly noisy. There we stood, in the house we had bought just an hour before, shouting in order to be heard.

You know that glass ceiling that feminists talk about? We live under it. And boy, when the rain starts falling, every drop is audible. A drizzle sounds like a downpour, and a downpour sounds like an overzealous firing squad.

But we love our conservatory. So do our guests. At Alida's college graduation party, which was planned for outdoors, it (of course!) poured rain. 80 guests retreated into the house, with a surprising number of them opting for the sunroom, despite their having to shout at one another to be heard.

It's raining today. Everywhere. Raining and raining and raining here in Rockaway Boro, and all over the Eastern Seaboard, from New England to the Deep South. Start building the arks, people!

(Above, a picture of the conservatory on moving day, which also was a day of relentless downpour. Note the cardboard, placed near the doors in a vain attempt to absorb the wet and mud. Notice also the Cavaliers banished to a pen to keep them from dashing out the open door.)