Sorry, I Have No Catchy Title For This Post

First off, I want to update the progress of the garage cleaning project. It was a fairly successful endeavor as I now have a place to work, tools and supplies stored properly and a bunch of garbage gone. It went from this...

...to this!

Way more organized and much easier to work in. I hope I can keep it that way...

BUT, I promised you something else this time around. I promised to write about a project that I've been working on. And, so I shall!

I've been accumulating old, broken jewelry, mismatched earrings and other random objects for a while. Sometimes, I'll run across a bag or box of junk jewelry at a yard sale and I grab it for next to nothing. I've yet to find diamonds or gold in one of these lots, but I have found a few silver pieces and I've also found some really nice costume jewelry that I pull out and sell.

But, when the culling is over, there's just a bunch of miscellaneous stuff left. Some things are broken and some are just ugly. There are loose stones, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings, pins, cuff links and just about any other kind of jewelry you can think of. Individually, they are pretty useless, but, in this case, the sum is greater than the parts. I take a bunch of random pieces and, together, they become something else. Here's one I did recently:

A couple of months ago, I read Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach. Great book and my paperback version has a really cool looking seagull on the cover. So, I thought a seagull might be a good subject for this project.

First, I drew it on paper to make sure of how I wanted it to look. There's really no detail, just the outline, so it was easy. You can also see that the seagull has an admirer across the page. We'll get to him later.

 

After I had the proportions right on paper, I drew him on a piece of wood. Then, it was time to commence to cuttin'.

I cut out the outline with a jigsaw, sanded the edges and painted it white. After it dried, I was ready to start decorating.

I got out some of the aforementioned junk and started sorting through it to find pieces that I thought would work well. When I got a few pieces picked out, I began gluing them in place. Some pieces just seemed to fit in certain spots, so I went with what looked right.





After fitting and gluing and moving and regluing, I felt like I had the right combination of trinkets bunched up and arranged where I wanted them. Here's the final product...

I think it turned out great. I was quite happy with it, so...I decided to try another subject.

Remember the skull drawing on the paper with the seagull? Well, I decided that a skull would be a cool thing to do. I tried a few different looks and then made a template on poster board. I figured that would make it easier when it came to cutting the shape out of wood.

So, I drew the skull.

Then, I cut it out of wood. I actually used an old masonite GE sign for the wood. I had 9 of them and the thickness was just perfect. So, now I have 8 signs and a partial remaining.

And, after I sanded it, I painted it white. Pretty much the same process as the seagull.







Then, I marked the locations of the eyes, nose, teeth etc. just to give me points of reference. I didn't want him to come out looking all disfigured like The Elephant Man, so I tried to keep everything in the right place.

But, to give it a neat little touch, I decided to paint the eyes and then put clear stones over them. I thought they would stand out better than your standard dark, hollowed out eye sockets that you usually find on skulls.

Doesn't he look happy?

So, I added a little of this, a little of that...





I didn't want to go overboard with this one. Enough adornment to fill space and to be interesting, but not so much that it looked like I was just trying to find anything to cram into every little gap. I guess there's a fine line between just enough and too much. Or, so I've been told.






So, after flirting with that fine line for a while, I ended up with this.

Sort of a Dia De Los Muertos kind of look. That wasn't my original intent, but it quickly became apparent that it was heading that direction, so I just continued in that vein. Not too over the top, but just right. I'm very happy with this one and the picture doesn't really do it justice. Of course, I'm a little biased, too...

So, if you have old jewelry and trinkets that you're thinking of throwing away, think again. Maybe you could make something really cool with them. Found object art is what they call it. Yes, it actually has a name. And, it doesn't have to be jewelry. You can use anything. The really cool thing is that there really aren't any rules to follow. Use what you want to make what you want the way you want to make it. There's no right or wrong way to do it.

I suppose that's why it really appeals to me. If there were strict rules about the proper way to do things, I probably wouldn't be able to follow them closely. I might try, but I just don't do very well when I have to do things precisely. That's not to say that I'm not precise in the things I do, but I'm just precise in the way that seems to me to be the right way as opposed to the universally accepted "right way" to do things.

But, if you have old jewelry and stuff to get rid of but don't want to mess with all this, I know someone who will take your junk off your hands.

You Wanna See Something Really Scary?

Last time, I promised that my next post would be about a new project. Well, that was so long ago that I believe the statute of limitations has expired, so it can't legally be classified as a lie.

I don't have a new project here.

I have new stuff to write about, but not right now. No, I have another purpose here.

So, there's this blog called Funky Junk Interiors that I read. Donna, the lady who writes the blog, does a really great job and features some wonderful ideas for decorating with...well...funky junk.

Yesterday's Funky Junk post was called The One Scary Thing Challenge. The jist of it is that you pick something that's scary to you, then you do it. The kicker is that you only have a week to do it. Not much time, so you have to be dedicated to making it happen.

There are a number of things that scare me. I don't really care for heights. That movie, The Ring...yeah, that's scary. Stupid people with power. Really scary.

But, I need something that I can stare down and defeat within a week. Here's my scary thing.

Yep, that's my garage. Really, it's only half of my garage. The other half is actually a fully functioning garage where Tanya parks her car. My scary thing is to tackle this half of the garage and get it cleaned up.

I could really use the space for working on my various projects, so I'm going to make it happen. I really love working on my sometimes silly, always cool projects. I really don't like having to do it in ridiculously cramped quarters. Time to do something about it.

1 week...

And, that new project will be here soon.

Reports Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

So, did you miss me?

I'll pretend you said yes.

For the last month, I've felt like a passenger on one of those little helicopter like leaves that you find on the ground, throw up into the air and then watch as it spins down to the ground. I don't know the official, scientific name for them, but you know the leaves I'm talking about.

I've been busy. Busy at work, busy at home, busy with T-ball. Busy. Important stuff, to be sure. Things that need proper attention. Sometimes, you do what you gotta do.

I've been slammed at my real job. I shouldn't complain too much about that because I know there are tons of people who don't have a job to complain about. I don't want to seem ungrateful, and I'm not. I have been blessed beyond measure to have a job with the flexibility that I need. I've had jobs with crazy requirements like showing up at a certain time. Staying until a certain time. At least looking busy while you're there. And the dress code. Who came up with that lame idea?

Yeah, no thanks. I'll take the show up when you can, stay as long as you want, do some stuff while you're here and I don't care what you're wearing job.

But don't get the wrong idea. While I may not dress like a banker or even keep banker's hours, I get stuff done. I get stuff done and those who rely on me are usually happy with what I do and they never have the slightest idea what I'm wearing.

 I've also been helping with Jack's T-ball team. If you have kids, please don't deny them (or yourself) the opportunity to get involved in sports. I coached both my daughters in softball and soccer until they got old enough to move on to bigger and better things. Now, I'm starting all over with Jack and it's still fun. Kids are a hoot and I never cease to be amazed at some of the crazy things they come up with. Spend time with a bunch of kids and you'll have an abundance of entertainment that money just can't buy.

So, those things have kept me hopping recently, but the real kicker was the yard sale. Yes, it's a well known fact that I love yard sales. I go to a lot of them.

But, this time, the yard sale was mine.

At my house.

Unless you have actually had one, you don't realize how much work goes into a yard sale. Sure I could just grab a few things and throw them out onto the driveway and call it a yard sale. Then people would talk under their breath about how lame it was. "If I didn't have any more than that, I would just donate it to charity." I've been to plenty of crappy yard sales and I've said that more than once. But, I was determined not to be the guy with the crappy yard sale that week, so I took measures to ensure that mine would be successful.

I started preparing about two weeks prior to the actual sale. I sorted through junk in the garage, bedrooms, bonus room and any other rooms that had stuff that we really didn't want or need. I drug out clothes, Happy Meal toys, pool supplies...you name it, I probably had it. And, just for good measure, I included the two Coke machines that were in the garage. They had been there for a couple of years and I obviously hadn't gotten around to doing anything with them, so I felt like it was time for them to go. I needed the space more than I needed the machines. And the money. I needed that too.


I placed an ad in the newspaper and on Craigslist and, on Thursday night (the sale was Friday and Saturday), I hung signs around the neighborhood. The hour was nigh.


And, the crazy thing was that I was actually excited about it. I had been wound up for a week, looking forward to D-Day. Nigh, indeed...


As I expected, they began showing up around 6:30 am. They brought money and left with some stuff. They kept pouring in. They came in droves. I conducted the entire operation by myself and there was such a constant stream of people that I couldn't get a break. I felt like I should have put on an adult diaper like that crazy astronaut woman who drove across the country, non-stop, to try to kill her boyfriend. You almost forgot about that one, didn't you?


Anyway, I was busy that day. I planned to shut down at noon on Friday, but I finally got the last people out around 1:15 pm. I unloaded a ton of stuff on Friday. Saturday was good, but nothing close to Friday. When it was all over, we only had a few boxes of things to donate to charity.


So, I say all that to try to make excuses for not being more active in the blogoshpere. (Spell check says that's not a word. I say it is.) I love writing this blog and I love working on the projects that I write about.


My yard sale is over but I still have a real job and we have another 6 weeks or so of T-ball. But, yard sale season is picking up and now I have empty space in my garage.


I'll be back next time with an actual project to talk about!

The Zen of Josh Groban

Ok, I'll get the warning out of the way. This is another post that doesn't have a junk to jewel subject. I know everybody loves those stories (I hope) but the sub heading of my blog is "Antiques, Art, Junk and Other Stuff", so this is going to be one of those entries that falls under the category of other stuff.

We all have stuff and we like our stuff, but our stuff gets old and boring pretty quickly. So, my hope is that this post will liven things up for you with, not the same old stuff, but other stuff. George Carlin has lots to say about people and their "stuff".

Sometimes, I feel the need to write something here but I don't have a point. Having a point is usually a prerequisite to successful writing. Now, I don't consider myself an authority on writing. I can put words (some consisting of multiple syllables!) together into sentences and I can sometimes keep a coherent thought over the course of several paragraphs. I enjoy writing and, if you've stuck with this post for this long, maybe you like reading what I write. If you do, I'm glad that I can provide some entertainment for you. If you don't, you're probably not reading this anyway, so I won't say anything disparaging about you. If you say you don't like my writing but you're reading this anyway, then you probably do like my writing and you just say that you don't. I'm not sure why someone would do that, but it might indicate some type of mental deficiency. But, chances are, that doesn't apply to you, because you're reading because you like it, right?

Now that we have that bit of nonsense out of the way, we can proceed with more important matters.

In recent days, weeks, months even years, I've been wondering what I want to be when I grow up. When I was in the first grade, I had an assignment to write about this subject. My career choice in the first grade was to follow in my dad's footsteps and go into the field of auto mechanics. In hindsight, I'm really glad that I didn't go that route because I'm just not very good at working on cars. I realize that, had I chosen that career, I would have received training and education at some point that would vastly improve my abilities. But, I would also have to get a dose or two of brainwashing that would implant in my head the belief that I enjoy working on cars. Sorry, Dad, but I think I dodged a bullet.

Sometime in 1984, someone asked the question, "What do you want to do with your life?" Dee Snider gave an awesome response with the simple, yet poetic "I Wanna Rock!" That sounded like a great idea to me. Although I never considered becoming a musician as an actual profession, I did buy a guitar and proceed to make noises that probably caused Adolph Rickenbacker to wish that he had never invented the instrument. (If you thought Les Paul or Leo Fender invented the electric guitar, they would have been saddened and embarrassed by my "musical" output, as well.) I still like to rock, but, these days, my rocking consists more of listening to music that my kids (and wife!) make fun of. I don't think I've touched a guitar since I put mine in their cases to store in the closet about a year ago. One of these days, I'll get the acoustic back out and make my no-longer-calloused fingers hurt. Then, I'll probably put it back because I can't make it sound like I want it to sound.

There was also a time when I thought I wanted to work with computers, possibly in programming, networking or something like that. Thank goodness I didn't get any closer to that than playing video games occasionally. The funny thing is that lots of people think that I do work with computers. Over the years, I've been approached by many people who say something to the effect of "I know you work on computers and mine is broken. Can you take a look at it and fix it?" I usually try to help them to the best of my ability, but the truth is that I don't know any more about computers than anyone else. I use a computer at work to write up job quotes and other documents, but sometimes I also use a toaster to make breakfast. I'm as much a computer whiz as I am a toaster whiz.

It just occurred to me that I have yet to include a single picture in this posting, so here you go:

But, back to the subject (if I may loosely use that term) at hand.


When I was in high school, I decided that I wanted to go into the radio and TV industry. I worked at a radio station after school and then, in college, I worked for the campus radio station. I enjoyed it, but, being raised in Alabama, despite my best efforts, I couldn't quite shake the Southern accent. I'm sure that made for some painful experiences for those unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of some of my on-air episodes. But, I preferred the behind the scenes stuff, anyway. And, during the course of my college career, I decided I liked working with video better, so not being adept at a generic Nebraska accent wasn't really a hindrance. I took several radio and video production classes, learned to use all kinds of neat equipment and had a good time doing it. When all was said and done, I got a BA in Communication (no "S" on the end) and English.


But, in addition to a BA in Communication (no "S" on the end) and English, I had a wife and a daughter who was a little over 7 months old. Yeah, I know we probably should have waited to get married until after I got out of school. Looking back, it's kind of a no-brainer. We've had that conversation a couple of time over the years and we're pretty well in agreement. But, as The Bard said, "All's well that ends well." He also said "Lord, what fools these mortals be." That one probably applies to our situation, too.


Because I was responsible for a family, I took the first job that came along. It wasn't in radio. It wasn't in TV. It was in structured cabling and I had no clue what that was. But, they hired me and it was better than nothing. I really never thought about telephone and data cabling before I started working with it, but, believe me, I've thought about it A LOT since then. For the first couple of months that I worked there, I actually had dreams about great masses of blue cables overtaking me. And, not in a good way.


I've been in this kind of business for almost 20 years, now. It's been good and it's been bad, but it's been my job for a long time as an employee and as a business owner.


I still wonder what I want to be when I grow up.

I really enjoy writing this blog. I enjoy turning crappy old junk into something new. I enjoy buying and selling antiques and collectibles. If I can figure out a way to generate a decent income from all that, I might be onto something. But, even if I don't make money at it, even if it's only a hobby, even if other people laugh at me and refer to me as that crazy guy with the garage full of junk, it's what I'll do because it's what I do. It's what I like. It's what makes me feel like I'm doing what I was meant to do.

If you don't become who you are, what will you become? Scary thought...


I discovered all this a little late in life, but better late than never, right? I'm just glad that I discovered it at all. And, if I had been aware of all this 20+ years ago, I might not have my wife and my 3 kids. Missing out on them would be far worse than missing out on the knowledge that I love going to yard sales.


I'm determined to do the things that make me happy. Tanya's pretty excited that the things that make me happy have nothing to do with stripper poles, cockfighting or swallowing swords. Doing the things that make you happy makes life much easier to take. Sure, we all have ups and downs. But, being an overall happy person will help you to persevere through those tough times.


Do what you love. There's a difference between doing what makes you feel good and doing what you love. Doing what you love can make you feel good, but so can heroin. You would probably be hard pressed to find a heroin addict who actually loves the drug. In fact, they probably hate it. They probably hate that they're a slave to it. "I should have known better, said I wish I never met him." (from "Mr. Brownstone", a song about, oddly enough, heroin addiction)


Do what you truly love. Do what builds you up and makes you who you are.

It may sound like a Josh Groban song, but these are words to live by. I think I'll give them a try...

It's Not Very Chairy, It's An Oldie But A Goody

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(My apologies to Brian Wilson and Jan Berry for thieving and altering their lyrics from Surf City. Not a big fan of 60's surf music, but that one was ok.)

I find myself itching to write about something. Anything. It just so happens that I have a chair that I finished a couple of days ago that would make a great subject. Conversely, I also find myself completely devoid of ideas on how to present the chair and its conversion from junk to...well, whatever it is now. I'm supposed to be witty, interesting and insightful, but I'm just not really sure what I need to do to hit those marks. I'll go ahead and let you in on a secret. If I achieve any or all of those milestones, it was by pure coincidence. I know that probably shatters your image of me meticulously compiling notes, writing outlines and rough drafts and sending copy off to the editor. Sorry, but most of the time I just wing it.

So, I'll commence to winging...

I used to work nights. For 5 years, I delivered newspapers 7 days a week, 365 days a year. 366 days in 2008. The US Postal Service makes that claim about rain, snow and gloom of night but take it from me...they have nothing on newspaper carriers. Tornadoes? You get your paper. 12 inches of snow and ice on the streets? You get your paper. Torrential rains and flooded streets? You get your paper. During the crazy snow we had in Alabama last winter, there were a couple of days when the mail didn't run, but the newspaper was on the sidewalk in the morning. Sure, there were streets that were so covered with snow and ice that I couldn't drive on them. No problem. I got out and walked.

I didn't see any mail carriers out there carefully navigating the frozen tundra, trying desperately to fulfill their duties.

I also didn't see any mail carriers fall and bust their posterior in the middle of Longbow Drive. Maybe they were onto something...


But, enough bashing the post office. I mentioned that I used to work nights to explain how I used to find all kinds of cool stuff sitting on the side of the road. And, because I was out riding around at 3am, quite often, I got the first look at people's garbage. I know how that must sound, but I actually looked forward to Wednesday mornings because I knew people would have their garbage out at the side of the road and I could window shop as I chunked papers out my window.


Now, don't get the idea that I furnished out entire house with other people's garbage. I also never got any food, clothing, medicine or personal hygiene items. But, I did get a good water hose, several lamps and light fixtures and a 1970's Marx Silly Sammy ride-on toy.

Don't tell me that's not awesome. I don't want to hear it and I wouldn't believe you anyway.


But, although Silly Sammy is quite cool, he's not the subject of today's post. Instead, I'm sharing the story of the chair I mentioned earlier. The chair was a side-of-the-road special, tossed out by someone who thought they got all the good out of it but, I'm happy to report that they were sadly mistaken.


As I rounded the corner, my headlights shone on the chair sitting in the gutter. I had to stop and check it out and, when I did, I decided it was worthy of saving. I put it in my back seat and it rode the rest of my route with me. When I got home, I put it in the garage and it sat there for a year or so before I decided it was time to do something with it.


That time was last week. I was moving some things around in the garage when I ran across the chair. I set it aside and decided I would put it on my short list. It didn't take long for me to get on it. This is what it looked like on day 1.

I don't know if you can see it very well, but there are heavy gauge wires underneath the seat. You can see a little bit of the wire through the hole where the middle of the seat used to be. My assumption was that they were put there to stabilize the chair and, after doing a little research, I found that I was correct. You also can't tell from the picture, but this thing was seriously shaky. There's no way I would have attempted to sit in it unless I wanted to end up the same way I did on that icy street with an armload of newspapers. Major ricketiness. (Yeah, spell check flagged that one)


I figured the best plan of attack was to take the thing entirely apart, clean it, paint it and rebuild it from the ground up. There were a number of nails and screws in this thing and they seemed to be in random locations that didn't seem to serve a purpose. Some were desperate attempts to stabilize the chair, but they proved futile. So, I removed all the screws and nails. Some of the nails sort of disintegrated when I pulled them out because they were so old and/or rusty. But, the funny thing was that even though I removed these screws and nails, the chair still didn't come apart. Even though it was shaky and rickety, it was still held together by the tension of the wire on the bottom. I had to find the right piece to remove and, when I did, the whole thing came apart easily. It was like a puzzle at Cracker Barrel.

So, now I have this pile of bones in the floor and I was hoping that I could reassemble everything correctly. I did have the foresight to label each piece as I removed it, so I was pretty sure I could put it back together.


I cleaned everything and got all the mystery substances out of the holes and crevices. Then I started sanding. I didn't sand down to the wood, but I did sand enough to remove the chipping paint and to rough up the paint so the new paint would adhere. My dad used to tell me that the best primer is the existing paint, so I went with that. The wood itself was actually in pretty decent condition. I was afraid I might find some rotten spots but everything seemed pretty solid. After it was sanded, I was ready to paint.

I decided to paint the chair white over the old white paint. I based that decision on two things. First, I thought that since it was originally white, it would be easy to cover with white. Second, and possibly more importantly, I had a half gallon of white paint that I found on the side of the road. Seriously. Early one morning I spied a stack of paint cans and I couldn't resist them. There were probably 12 cans or so in a variety of colors. I got white, orange, teal, purple. I even got a can of clear coat. And, most of them had quite a bit of paint in them. Some, like the white, had a half gallon or more. I knew that, eventually, I would get the chance to use some of them and this was a perfect opportunity. People throw away the coolest stuff.


So, I painted the chair in a weathered sort of style. Sort of a thin coat, brush strokes visible, little streaks of wood peeking through the paint. It looked pretty good but there was still a problem. If you scroll back to the picture of the chair in its "found" state, you'll notice that there's a hole in the seat. The original seat, probably cane or some kind of woven material, had long since gone bye bye. Not being adept at basket (or chair seat) weaving, I elected to fill the gap with good old fashioned wood. I cut a piece of wood to fit the opening and then secured it to the bottom of the chair.

In hindsight, I probably should have painted the bottom part. But, I didn't. Sorry. At least you can't see it, so it's not that big a deal. Now that the seat was complete (poet, don't know it, etc.) I could get down to the real order of business. The chair was...well, a chair. A nondescript, white chair. The tension wires are pretty cool, but they weren't really enough to carry the chair over the coolness threshold. It needed something else and I had kicked around several ideas. I decided to bust out the collection of colored glass tiles.


Tanya and I have worked on a few mosaic tile projects over the past year or so. We've done a couple of flower pots and we're sort of in the midst of a birdbath. That one's taking a while because it's fairly large and the tile pieces that we're using are very small. In order to make the tiles fit or form the design we want, we use the tool at the left to cut them. It really gives you a lot of flexibility in doing sort of "freestyle" mosaic tile work when you can make tiles fit that ordinarily wouldn't. Plus, cutting glass is kind of a neat thing.



Once, in the 7th grade, a guy brought a glass cutter to school. I had never seen one except in Scooby Doo cartoons, so my knowledge of its operation was somewhat skewed. But, it seemed that I wasn't alone in that boat. When word spread around school that he had a glass cutter, we all had grand visions of cutting big holes in the windows in Mrs. Blanton's classroom. It was going to be an epic day in the history of Williams Avenue Elementary! A day that would live on in the legends passed down through generations of future 7th graders! This would rival the tale of the guy (nameless, for purposes of this story) who rode his motorcycle through the hallways a few years earlier! We were going to be famous!


Sadly, the legend was over before it began. I don't really know what happened, but the glass cutter didn't work the way it did on Scooby Doo. I thought we would roll the tool across the glass and then pieces would just fall out. Didn't happen that way. You can imagine the disappointment of a group of 7th grade boys when they come to the realization that they would have to find another way to become legendary. Of course, the same disappointment and realization process happens to every 7th grade boy approximately 17 times a day. So, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big a deal.


By the way, to this day, I love the story of the guy riding his motorcycle through the halls of Williams Avenue. I can see the teachers screaming and diving out of the way. Mr. Rupil shaking his fist in anger and threatening detention for a month. All the kids watching the spectacle and wishing they were the one on the bike, giving the finger to authority. I love the story, but I have some doubts about its authenticity. If you actually witnessed this event, PLEASE let me know that it really happened! I would love to verify this one.


But, back to the subject at hand. I started gluing tile onto the seat in a somewhat random but deliberate pattern. The glass pieces are all different shapes and sizes, so there's really no order to it, but they do need to fit together to a degree.

It took a little while, but I made good progress on the seat. I tried to keep a good mixture of colors and minimize the gaps between the pieces. I wanted to have some gaps, but not big gaps. Surprisingly, I didn't have to do a lot of cutting. For the most part, I was able to find pieces that fit into the spots I where I needed them to fit. I finished gluing the glass pieces in place and then it was time to apply the grout. I've always thought "grout" was a funny sounding word and I sort of laugh to myself when I say it. It's definitely one of those words that would sound really dumb if you said it over and over. But, I think it would start to sound dumb a lot quicker than some other words like, "location", for example. "Grout"..."Location"...On the scale of silly sounding words, "grout" eats "location" for lunch.


I'm digressing again...

Did you think I was actually going to get through this without going off topic a time or three?

Back to the grout...

I covered the tile with a layer of grout and made sure that I filled in the gaps between tiles. I used a powder grout that you mix with water. I have also used the premixed grout, but I prefer the kind you mix yourself. As I recall, I found the premixed variety to be too dry and I didn't care for the way it looked when it set up. You may have different results, so try both and form your own opinion.


After the grout dried, I used a damp sponge to wipe the grout off the surface of the tiles, being sure to use a clean side of the sponge for each wipe over the tiles. It's important to rinse the sponge when you get grout scum on it because, if you're wiping wet grout with wet grout, guess what you'll have on your tiles.


When they were all clean, it was time to break out the secret weapon to make them really shine. Now, I do realize that I'm publishing this for the world to see, so the secret weapon won't be so secret anymore. Of course, I'm operating under the assumption that someone will actually read this. As much as I like having a secret weapon, I really hope that a ton of people read this and I have to find a new one. But, I suspect this secret weapon is probably used by a number of others for the same purpose. There's nothing magic about the Publix brand of vegetable oil. I'm sure that Wesson oil would work just fine. Just put a little bit of oil on a clean rag and wipe it over the tiles. It really makes the colors pop.




After finishing the seat, I thought it needed something else, so I repeated the process on the two horizontal pieces of the back of the chair. It gave a nice balance to the whole piece and spread out the visual appeal. Now to fine tune.

When I reassembled the chair, I left out all of the superfluous (nice word, huh?) nails and screws. Because of the tension wire doing most of the work, I only needed 2 (two!) screws to hold the entire chair together. I did use another screw to attach a broken rung on the bottom left and I used 4 screws to attach the little curved  pieces that connect the back to the seat. I didn't want these screws to show, so before I put them in, I pre-drilled the screw holes with a countersink bit. This bit leaves an indention in the wood so the screw head goes down flush with the surface of the wood. I used wood filler to hide the screw heads (Can't see the line can you, Russ?) and then painted over the spots and touched up a few other places that needed some attention.


 

I also used a straight pin to remove grout from the little cracks and indentions in the glass. On this job, or on any job, it's this kind of attention to detail that really sets your work apart from others. Don't settle for "good enough". If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. Now, maybe my career as a motivational speaker will really start to take off!





So, the chair was finally finished! From the side-of-the-road garbage pile to the finished product, this chair has come a looooonnnngggg way!

Here are a couple of other shots.

Considering where this thing started and where it ended up, I couldn't be more happy with the outcome. Actually, I would be happier if I found out the motorcycle story was the real deal. That would make my day.



My sincere thanks to everyone who reads my blog! I love writing it and I love working on the projects I write about. If you like what you see, please take a minute to share it with your friends, post a link on your Facebook page or just leave a comment. And, check out the links on the right side of the page. You can find me on Twitter and Pinterest or you can see a few of the things I have for sale.

Thanks again for reading!

John

Radio Radio

As is I have established in the title of this post, I reserve the right to quote Elvis Costello at any time I deem appropriate.  For those who are confused by this statement, "Radio Radio" is a song by Elvis Costello that was originally released in 1978. It's actually about the commercialization of radio and how the power is taken out of the hands of the artists and given to record company executives who decide what gets played on the radio. Consumers are pretty much told what's going to be popular and the vast majority of them take it hook, line and sinker. Pretty dead on, Elvis.

I'm already getting off topic, but I hope you enjoyed the trivia/commentary.


So, the title also refers to my latest little project. It all started several months ago...

I was out in the tool shed at my in-laws' house and I ran across something that caught my eye. The tool shed is not only a shed that houses tools. In fact, there aren't that many tools left out there. At one time, there were all kinds of tools and machinery in the shed but now it's mostly used to raise spiders. There's also a large pile of stuff behind the shed that consists of scrap wood and a 10-speed bike, among other things. It was in this pile that I spotted an old wooden console radio.


I have a soft spot for old radios. For the most part, any old radios that I bring home end up living at our house indefinitely. I don't have a ton of them, but I do have some pretty cool ones. I just really like the style of the older radios. Modern radios just don't have the appeal of the old ones. Back in the day, they were more than devices for listening to music. They were pieces of furniture. They were part of the decor. Before TV, the radio was the focal point in the living room, so they had to fit the part. Big, lighted dials, ornate faceplates and fancy cabinets were the norm. Unlike today's sleek, silver boxes the old-school radios had character.


So, when I saw this old radio decaying in this pile of garbage, I felt the need to save it. It was exposed to the elements and the outer part of the cabinet was in pretty sad shape. I wish that I had gotten to it sooner, but I didn't.

 The outside was shot, but parts of the inside were salvageable so I went back later with sawzall in hand. I wish I had taken a picture of it before the demolition began, but here's what it looked like after I got it home.


 


It was somewhat beat up but, as an added bonus, it was filled with ants. I transported it in the plastic garbage bag you see in the picture and then poured some high powered ant killer in the bag and closed it up. After it sat for about 6 months, I figured it was safe. It was.

Here's what it looked like when I opened it up.

I had an idea of what I wanted to do with it and the chassis (the part with all the tubes and mechanical pieces, pictured to the right) wasn't a part of the plan. So, I started trying to carefully remove the face from the chassis. It wasn't too difficult but it was quite nasty. The radio was a Majestic model 8FM775, made in 1947 and I think a family of mice moved into it shortly thereafter. And, it appears that these mice weren't terribly concerned with housekeeping or cleanliness. Typical mice. I assume that the mice later moved to the suburbs and made way for the ants who were even less sanitary than the mice. It's just hard to find good renters these days.


All that being the case, I had to clean the face once I got it separated from the chassis. I wiped everything down and put the chassis back into the plastic bag for later use or to permanently occupy a corner of my garage. I haven't decided which.

 

Here, you can see the chassis removed from the face. You can also see some whiffle balls. These are evidence of last weeks batting practice that took place in the garage. Jack is playing T-ball again this year and last week, on a rainy day, we set up the tee in the garage and hit whiffle balls. After raising two girls, it's a lot of fun having a little boy. If I didn't have Jack, I would miss out on a lot of cool stuff like T-ball, Green Lantern cartoons and Batman underwear. Ok, I might still have some Batman underwear, but I don't think they'd let me play T-ball. Anyway, I love being a dad to a little boy. It's almost like being a little boy myself again.




Back on track...I got it all apart and cleaned up and then started looking for something to use for a frame. My first idea was to use a picture frame, but I couldn't find one that fit, so I opted for making one. I found some pieces of wood in the garage that I thought would work well. It turns out that the pieces of wood were actually the seat from a small bench that I found on the side of the road one day. The bench had cast iron arms and legs that were made together and one of the legs had broken, so they chunked the whole thing. But, what really drew me to the bench was the back. It's now hanging over a door in our house.

I love the animal scene and the detail involved. How could somebody trash this thing? People perplex and frustrate me, but I probably have the same effect on them (he says with a smile).

The wood pieces that I used for the frame looked the same as those pictured above. I painted them black to match the knobs on the face of the radio and then I "aged" them a little. When I painted them, they were black black. Too black. I thought they should show signs of age similar to that of the radio itself, so I got medieval on them with a wire brush.

The piece on the left is before the wire brush and the one on the right is after. I thought about also beating them with a logging chain but decided that might border on overkill. Let the wire brush suffice, but bear down pretty hard on it.


"And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools," according to Elvis Costello. I was hoping that he wasn't referring to me when he wrote that, but I was pretty confident that this was going to turn out well. The stars were all lining up for this one.


Oddly enough, I think the stars were lining up for this beginning on December 17, 1977. Elvis Costello was the musical guest on that night's episode of Saturday Night Live. Costello wanted to play "Radio Radio", but the powers that be demanded that he play the song "Less Than Zero", partly because of the anti-media message of "Radio Radio." So, Elvis and his band, The Attractions, began "Less Than Zero" but Elvis stopped them, told the audience there was no reason to play that song here, and launched the band into "Radio Radio." You can see the performance here. One of the all-time great flip-offs to the establishment. It also got him banned from appearing on the show until 1989.


But, what does that have to do with John, you ask. Well, the host of that episode was an 80-year old lady from New Orleans named Miskel Spillman. That fall, SNL ran a contest called "Anyone Can Host" and she was the winner. It's the only time that a non-celebrity has hosted the show. But, although Miskel and I share a last name, I'm not aware of any further relation. Still, it seems quite providential that more than 34 years later (!) some guy named Spillman would be writing about her, Elvis Costello and a radio.


Cool, huh?


So, I put together a frame, and got the whole thing assembled. When I found the radio, it was left for dead. Needless to say, the days of music streaming from its speakers were gone. But, that doesn't mean that it can't live on in another form. I figured if it works for Buddhists, why not radios? This radio's new form isn't too far from the previous one. Chances are that when it went home with Tanya's grandparents in 1947, it was the centerpiece of the living room. It was a beautiful piece of furniture that accented the rest of the decor. Now, once again, it's a thing of beauty. It's got some miles on it, but I wanted to leave the evidence of those miles. I thought it fitting.

Its life expectancy has been dramatically increased over what it was in the junk pile. It's hanging high enough that Jack can't reach it to try to turn it on, so it's probably safe. I think it's going to be a nice addition to our house. And, I think Elvis Costello and Miskel Spillman would both approve of it.




Thanks for reading! Please share with your friends!

John

Mirror, Mirror In The Driveway

I've mentioned the mirror project a couple of times recently and, in my last entry, I posted a couple of pictures of the mirror as it appeared when I got it. It definitely had potential, which is why it caught my eye to begin with, but it needed some work. The main problem I saw was that it suffered from multiple coats of latex exterior house paint. The paint stripper would really have to step up to the plate on this one.

I found the mirror at a yard sale. When I stopped at this particular yard sale, I didn't expect to find much. It looked like a typical baby clothes and Tupperware kind of yard sale. Nothing against Tupperware, of course. My yard saleing partner and brother-in-law, Joey, is a Tupperware nut. He buys pretty much any vintage Tupperware he can find. The more obscure the piece, the better. He's got salt and pepper shakers, ham keepers, cake carriers and these.

Remember those? I'm always on the lookout for Tupperware stuff for him. Once, I even found him some animal refrigerator magnets in the original box. I'm a pretty good brother-in-law.

But, back to the original subject. The yard sale didn't look like it was going to have much to offer, but, I was there so I really had nothing to lose by checking it out.

I looked around for a minute and then I saw the mirror. It was sitting in the driveway, leaned against some other stuff. When I got close enough to inspect it, I liked the way it looked and I was pretty sure that it was fairly old. They weren't asking a lot of money for it, so I paid the lady and loaded it in the car.

When I unloaded my haul for the day, I put the mirror in the room formerly known as "The Office" (now Jack's room-See the new shelves post for an explanation of what rooms became what). It stayed there for many months until we unearthed it during the 3-way room switch about two weeks ago. Seeing it again, I decided that it had collected enough dust. It was time to do something with it.

So, this is what I had to work with. It was pretty, but it was smothered in black paint.  The detail in the carving at the top was greatly diminished by the paint.  Take a look.

 

Along the bottom portion of the frame, there was some white paint that was creeping through the black and onto the glass.

There's also a mark on the back that's either I50 or 150. Not sure which and my research has turned up no answers.

So, the first thing I did was to take the frame apart. After I removed the back, the front part of the frame came apart in three pieces. I then applied paint stripper to the three front pieces. I elected not to do any restoration on the back piece because it was basically a cheap piece of lightweight wood. In addition to that, the back wouldn't be seen so I wasn't terribly concerned with it.

Anyway, I picked the coldest day of the year to commence stripping in the garage...I know what you're thinking. If THAT happened, and I'm not saying it did or didn't, there are no pictures, so just put it out of your mind.

But, yes...it was COLD. I believe the high that day was 33. Now, I don't like cold weather. When I say, "I don't like cold weather," I don't mean it in the same way as, "I don't like collard greens." Collard greens don't really taste good to me but they don't make my body tense up and hurt all over. But, I was determined to make some progress, regardless of the miserable conditions.

 

I put on the latex gloves and started brushing on the paint stripper. I used a semi-paste stripper that actually sticks to the piece. I had tried liquid stripper on other  projects, but it just didn't get hot enough to melt the paint. The liquid stripper may work on some things, but I've never had much luck with it. The black paint bubbled up and came right off, revealing a layer of off-white paint. Another round of stripper. The off-white paint was a little more resistant, but after a couple of applications of stripper and some serious scraping, it came off.

White paint underneath.

Maybe I should have opted for sandblasting.

But, since that wasn't really an option, I stuck with the stripper. I must confess that every time I use the word stripper, I have to fight the urge to make some kind of off-color joke. Admittedly, sometimes I don't put up much of a fight. That makes me a typical man who never matured past the 7th grade. My wife will confirm this. The great thing about my immaturity is that I have a son, so I get to pass it on to him. I'm sure that nature would probably halt his maturity around 12 years of age, but I suppose my ego wants to think that I have some input in the matter. Either way, the Spillman name will live on to laugh at potty humor for another generation!

There I go, digressing again...

 After brushing on stripper :) approximately 47 separate times, hand sanding and using various tools that would make the sadistic dentist in Little Shop of Horrors proud, I finally got most of the paint off the frame. The details in the carving were way more visible and impressive. Coming along nicely!

 

I had to fill a few spots that had some minor damage with Minwax Stainable Wood Filler and then it was time to stain it. I decided to go with Minwax #225 Red Mahogany. I like the way it looks, but I had trouble getting it to dry. It claimed dry times of 2-6 hours. Maybe the hyphen was inserted by mistake. But, even 26 hours didn't do the trick. I finally decided to walk on the wild side and spray the polyurethane, Minwax Fast Drying Clear Gloss. 

Here are the tools of the trade along with an empty Publix strawberry yogurt carton. Tanya likes her yogurt and, when she gets to the bottom of a carton, she gives it to Bacchus and he cleans it out quite thoroughly. He left this one under my table, so I used it to catch the dust that I raked off the table. He's a great dog and he's scary smart, but I just can't get him to clean up after himself. But, the same is true of the kids. Now that I think about it, he doesn't generate as much laundry, he doesn't ask for money, he doesn't steal my parking place...I could go on for a while. Of course, my kids don't pee in the yard. Ok, maybe Jack does on occasion, but as least the girls understand the benefits of indoor plumbing. Maybe there's hope for them after all.

Oh yeah, the mirror. Here's how it turned out.

And, the carving.

I think this is light years better than the black version. The picture doesn't quite have the resolution that you need to fully appreciate it, but you get the idea. Scroll back up to the black one and then look at this one. No comparison.

As I was reassembling it, I noticed something that I missed when I was taking it apart. On the back of the mirror was a stamp with the manufacturer and the date.

March 10, 1900. That means this thing is 112 years old. I can't read the middle part, but it looks like "Himes Thener Class 0" or something like that. If anyone has info on it, please let me know. The bottom part, obviously, says that it was made in France.

I'd love to know how this thing made its way from France to Decatur, AL over the course of 112 years. I'd love to know who has looked into the mirror and what it's seen over those 112 years. Women brushing their hair before bed. Teenage girls primping before a date. Young men tying their ties on Sunday morning. This mirror has stories to tell.

For many years to come.

I love what I do.