furniture refinished

I love projects. Well, specifically, I love FINISHING projects. A couple week ago, someone in my apartment complex left this cute little table in the mailbox area, free for the taking. I quickly adopted it. It had an awful dark-colored stain and varnish which gave it an old-fashioned feel. Can't have that in my clean-lines and mid-century modern-inspired home, so I decided to paint it.

step 1

I sat out on the balcony in my swim suit and hand-sanded the varnish and some of the stain off every millimeter of the surface. When that was done, I wiped the dust off with a couple damp paper towels and took a picture of the table with my beer for scale.

tres petite, non?

step 2
I covered my dining room table with a drop-cloth made of Shopper Stoppers -- to what better use could they be put? -- and retrieved my supplies, including a brush...

... and bright blue latex paint made by (and here's how shameless I am) Disney. They actually have a very nice line of super-saturated colors. I think the one I chose is called "Donald's Shirt Blue."

I, too, like to wear a hat and shirt with no pants

Upon close inspection of my flipped-over table, I discovered these ancient Masonic engravings. Probably pre-historical. Or, as my roommate and boyfriend claim, probably created when the spindle base was clamped into the carving tool. Whatever. I like my version better.

spooky, eh? 

step 3
Apply one coat of paint to the underside of the top, and to the spindle and each of the three legs.

step 4a
Keep an eye on Curious George.

step 4b
And if you can't do 4a, then be prepared for him to take a stroll across the wet paint...

George's balls

... and to then have his cute little footprints preserved in the paint forever...

tra la la, just taking a stroll across mommy's project

... but not in the carpet forever. Did you know the Bissell Spot Bot will take LATEX PAINT OUT OF CARPET if you get to it fast enough? That's a fact, Jack.

in ten minutes, the carpet was good as 6-months-old

step 5
Apply two more coats to the entire surface. I didn't take any pictures of this because IT WAS LIKE WATCHING PAINT DRY.

step 6
Apply a clear surface protector. I chose this Krylon high-gloss spray product. Follow the dang instructions, too. Turns out, applying one thick coat is not the same as applying several thin coats -- the stuff will drip.

any of the dads at your local hardware store can help you find the right product

Set a 10-minute timer between clear-coats. I applied about 3 total coats to the entire table.

when the Marimba alarm rings, I dance for a minute before shutting it off

step 7

And this is an important one, so pay close attention. Let the clear-coat cure for a little while, maybe an hour or two, while you sit by the pool reading a mediocre book.

yes, I did this whole project while wearing a swim suit

step 8
Take a slightly off-kilter photos of the finished project! I bought the lamp separates -- acrylic base and tweed shade -- at Target for about $30.

that's John's coffee cup, but not his torso (which is still attached to the rest of him, and is much larger)

here's a little closer view

and really, really close where you can see the texture I achieved by alternating directions of paint strokes

step 9
Figure out the cost of this little project

table	$0
sand paper	$3
paint	$8
paint brush	$4
beer	$7
total	$22

step 10
Happen to stumble across almost the EXACT SAME TABLE at Target, for sale for $59!!! Quickly do a little Girl Math and realize you now have $37 to spend!

SRSLY. Twinsies, right? 

fin.

A Date with John Doe

On a recent rainy Sunday I went on a date with John Doe.*

John and I met online, because my profile is beguiling. (His words, not mine.) We exchanged a number of emails via said dating site and eventually graduated to a couple phone calls and a few text messages.

One of these communiques contained an invitation for a first date.We ironed out the details and, though the Saturday turned out downright blustery (as you will... it's autumn in Wisconsin), I looked forward to meeting someone new, seeing something new, and -- let's be honest -- leaving the house on the weekend. He suggested we go museuming.

Skinny jeans, check. Tall boots and suitably insulated socks, check. Hair down and curly, check. Short-sleeved sweater which SCREAMS Siobhan, check.

When I got downtown, I struggled to find a parking spot. Apparently the Overture had an event and my truck is too tall to fit in the other parking garages. A couple circles around the Kohl Center and BINGO. Free street parking.

alarm #1

We connected on the corner of University and Lake. He had said he was 5'8", but in reality he was 5'7" which makes him noticeably shorter than me. Doesn't that qualify as LYING? Well, whatever. I don't discriminate (against college-educated, unmarried men with straight teeth living in Madison...).

John and I walked a couple blocks to the Chazen Museum of Art, which, I'm now convinced, is the most underrated gem in the Madison area. He and I were off to a good start: John was a complete gentleman who let me set the pace (very, very slow in museums) and we politely chit-chatted about the exhibits until I turned a corner on the third floor and saw THIS...

Untitled 1968 by Mark Rothko

... a painting which rendered me speechless. Since 2002, when I received a calendar featuring 12 of his prints as a Christmas gift, Mark Rothko has been my favorite painter. I mean FAVORITE. As in, you can take the rest of your visual artists and shove 'em.As in, I have 13 of his prints hanging prominently in my living room and about a dozen more of my own pieces inspired by Rothko's style.

'Take Me to the River' by Siobhan Reynolds

Well played, John Doe. Well played. You may not have planned for my reaction -- unless you are a very clever stalker -- but it was a good one.

After a quick stroll through the scant exhibits in the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art, we decided on an early dinner at a Thai restaurant. The shabbiest, musty-smellingest restaurant possibly ever allowed in Madison, a true foodie city.

Never go to

Vientiane Palace Restaurant II

The lemonade was disease-my-pancreas sweet, the floor was sticky, and the food was forgettable. Nevertheless, John and I had a nice conversation about our families and hobbies.

Alarm #2 

John mentioned having in the past enjoyed dinner parties with friends who have all since gotten married and had children. I casually suggested he host the party. He reacted strongly: "Nooooo. No. No way. Nuh uh." Turns out he shares a house with a friend who happens to be a hoarder. 

I spent $500 on  invested in  named my vacuum Tyson the own a Dyson and pride myself on keeping an orderly home. How could he stand living with a hoarder? I filed this fact about him under 'things to remember when declining a second date.'

After dinner, John walked me back to my free parking spot, gave me a hug, and said he would call. Which he did. And texted. And after four days of not hearing from me he finally broke up with me (huh?) via email. Somehow I just don't feel like I got dumped.

Dude, I'm just not that into you.

*More or less not his real name.

Museumers and Our Museuming

I grew up in a home filled with one-of-a-kind pieces of art created by my parents, who at every opportunity encouraged my siblings and me to express ourselves artistically.

From a young age, my brother Owen leaned towards theater, I think because it involved so many tools. He has become an extremely well-liked college professor and specialist in the field of technical theater direction. Owen is freaking brilliant because and he makes bacon baskets.

Aside from being a valued employee and devoted mother and wife, in her spare time my sister Katie is a published author, creative blogger about life on Cabbage Ranch, and painter. (Jesus, she must be exhausted.)

All three of us have in our own unique way pursued the arts, either as a profession or a hobby (or in the case of these insanely money-making blogging ventures, a little of both...).

It stands to follow, then, that I take every opportunity to visit art museums with friends and family and and have learned there are two types of art appreciationists*: Fast Museumers and Slow Museumers.

Fast Museumers

A Fast Museumer stands in front of each piece for about one second and possibly doesn't even stop moving past it. Cycle through the exhibit and move onto the next and hopefully end up in the cafe before the lunch crowd.

Perhaps we could generalize about Fast Museumers and say they don't actually want to linger, or have less of an appreciation for art; unfortunately I have been forced to -- momentarily -- Fast Museum due to the vast crowds visiting an exhibit.

In 2009, my dad and Joyce joined me in Amsterdam...

Dad picks his teeth the same way in both Europe and Illinois

...and naturally we visited the Van Gogh museum. Swarms of people stood in line, which was amusing to us since Joyce's knee injury and accompanying cane allowed us to go straight in. Once in the museum, we briskly took the laps determined by the crowd's orderly movement through each room. In and out in less than an hour. I guess it worked out because although some of Van Gogh's art is quite good...

The extremely lovely "Almond Blossoms"

... some of it sucks.

My dad assured me it's OK to not like famous art.

Slow Museumers

On the other hand, you might be a Slow Museumer if you do any of the following in art exhibits:

1. Read every word on every plaque beside every piece to learn about the medium, artist, year it was created, etc.
2. Consider the piece from different distances by pressing your nose right up to the piece (figuratively), then stepping back, and possibly even moving side to side in order to get a sense for the piece in 3 dimensions. Repeat steps 1-3 for full appreciation.
3. Contemplate the context of the art. What relationship, if any, did the artist have with his or her subject? Did the subject sit still? (And if so, HOW? For crying out loud, I've been trying to sit still for 30+ years.) How much did the artist charge for the piece? Was it really raining and he painted a sunny sky? What did that room smell like?
4. Know how to spot and critique bad art (without being a snob) - just because it's in a museum doesn't mean it's GOOD and you don't have to like them all
5. Never, ever say, "I could have done that" because if you could have, you would have, and even so, you didn't.

In conclusion, I blame credit my parents for the fact that I grew up to be a Slow Museumer. Be still my beating heart should I amble into a room of gigantic pieces -- I mean literally, 10'x15' or bigger -- by the Flemish masters. I LOVE the patina of the oil paints, the gaudy gilt frames, the brooding environs, and especially the pale moon-shaped faces of each subject.

Most appealingly for this genre, the great Flemish artists like Jan van Eyck rarely focused on religion. Instead, they painted the sometimes unattractive nobility of their time. If you could afford them, they would paint you. These guys were working for a living.

"Arnolfini Wedding" by Jan van Eyck

Anytime I stand before these pieces, I like to think about the transaction which led up to the sitting. The scene often plays through in my head (with generic northern European accents) and goes something like this:

Count Arnulf von Warbledon: "I have impregnated m'lady the Dutchess and shalt wish thine self to paint our portrait."
Jan van Eyck: "She's gonna think she looks fat."
Count: "M'lady hast a better attitude than thine. Paint our portrait, peasant!"
Jan: [to self] 'Jesus, settle the hell down.' [aloud] "That'll be $10,500. Cash or charge?"
Count: "I shall pay thee with a year's worth of wool and two chickens."

And... SCENE.

*Yeesh, I make up a lot of words.