Vintage Furniture and My Man!

If it wasn’t for my darling husband’s passion for furniture shopping, 

for searching, scouring and finagling, 

for all the hours on craigslist and the down-and-out thrift stores in the slums of Phoenix he frequents, 

the garage sales and estate sales he ventures out to, 

my days of restocking my shops with vintage dressers, mid-century desks and French chairs might be coming to an end, but . . . it appears the counselor likes the hunt.  Typical man!

Does anyone out there see running a booth at an antique mall as masculine.  It really is.  With all the moving, lifting and heavy work this type of job requires, my manly man does almost everything and I do next to nothing but say “Ewe, this dresser needs to be painted gray.”  With a misaligned floor dolly that moves like a squeaky grocery cart, this man moves 100 pound pieces of furniture about as easy as I carry in a bag of groceries.

Like this piece.  It's a hefty 12-drawer solid-wood dresser.  He will move this with the ease of toddler pulling a wagon I tell you.

The only time we ever fight, with the passion and determination of two polar opposites is when we try to move a piece of furniture together.  16 years of marriage and I finally know how to push his buttons.

What I’ve learned about my man:

1)    do not offer suggestions, directions or warnings when driving.  The stereo-typical joke about men and driving is alive and well.

2)    do not try to convince him something is dark navy when he thinks it’s black.  It will not work.

3)    he is perfectly capable of moving various types of large furniture without your help.  I think it makes him feel like He-Man.

With his manly attitude, it seems he’s really turned this little hobby of mine into something more.  I like to restore furniture while I paint and hum the latest uplifting song on KLove. 

Here's one of my latest favorite songs from FOR KING AND COUNTRY:

The counselor does nothing in this business passively.  He stay abreast with restocking and what paint colors we need.  I really like him.  He’s done good.

Here are our latest creations:

SOLD 

SOLD

SOLD

It seems I like the creative part of this business and the counselor likes everything else.  Way to go, babe!

And a few little things?

I'm in love with this chalkboard I made with an antique silver platter.

And this jar with a chalkboard lid.

And a few Fall decorations.

Vintage shutters

More candlesticks! This one stands about 2 feet tall.

I remember my grandma had little frames like these.  I found a bunch of them and painted them heirloom white, which is an antique white.

I don't sell everything I make.  I painted the lids of these little Mason jars to make a candlestick display.  I shared these with Mayer's and Reef's teachers at parent/teacher conference.

If you want to check out any of my shabby pieces, I'm at Merchant Square in Chandler, booth #73 or Antique Plaza in Mesa, booth #52.

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A Book Review of The Shoemaker's Wife

Last night I finished The Shoemaker’s Wife and fell apart.

I’ve been crying all day over fictional characters.

Ciro Lazzari and Enza Ravanelli.  My, did I grow to love them.

The Shoemaker’s Wife starts in 1905 in the Italian Alps on a mountain top when the two Lazzari brothers are left by their widowed mother as orphans in a convent.   The story moves along as a sermon with highs and lows of personal trial and unspeakable strength for these young men.  Reverently stirring, you eventually meet the Ravanelli family and their oldest daughter Enza.  At the burial of her baby sister Stella, Enza meets a young gravedigger named Ciro Lazzari and here starts their love story. 

Author Trigiani perfectly captures the hard work and innovation of the immigrant character in the early 1900’s. She does this like a dancer moving around a staged scene; emphasizing certain parts of the characters strengths and weaknesses at just the right points.  She portrays an immigrant who cherishes the tradition of her old country, but loves the freedoms of her new America.  Self-reliance, religion and family are the motivation behind sacrifices and an uncertain future with WWI threatening all they’ve worked for.  I can’t believe The Shoemaker’s Wife is a true story.  There is so much depth and drama, usually not captured when one is writing about her grandparents lives.  I think we see our ancestors of the past as different from us and we can’t relate to them, but Trigiani is right inside her grandmother’s heart and mind.  She really knows her and that allows us the same privilege. 

 (a photo I found of little Italy here)

Author Trigiani shows there is a strength that comes from really knowing the trials, sacrifices and strengths of those you come from; plus it helps she’s a great writer.  Here's just a small sample of her delicious words.  

“Every son thinks his mother is beautiful, even when she isn’t.”

“The eldest daughter in a family with many children never has a real childhood.”

“There are two kinds of people in this world.  Those who want to know the facts, and those who want to make up a nice story to feel better.”

“”If you look around to find meaning in everything that happens, you will end up disappointed.”

“A shoemaker’s children never go barefoot.”

“It seemed to Ciro that so much of life was about not holding on, but letting go . . .”

My mind stirred with imagery of early America.  One of my favorite scenes was Columbus Day in New York City Little Italy 1914.  Can you imagine being an Italian immigrant in America on Columbus Day?  The traditions and heritage rang strong through little Italy and they celebrated this Italian and American hero with much fanfare.  I'd never envisioned such a thing.

I loved getting to know these beautiful Italian families and all they endured together.  I laughed out loud and at other times cried my eyes out.  It makes me curious about my own great-grandparents who migrated from Prussia (now Germany).  I have just one request - please turn this book into a movie.  I'll be the first one in line to see it!

I've been waiting, but it hasn't happened!

I’m waiting.

I’ve got my emotional boxing gloves on.

Who wants a shot at me!

When we were in Durango, the counselor and I along with the kids took some time to ride the free trolley.  It takes you through downtown, then up the hill towards Purgatory, than loops back to town.  Days earlier we’d spent 8 hours in the car driving from Phoenix to Durango so why an hour long excursion in a non-air-conditioning trolley was fun only a kid would be able to answer that one.  At one point, we were the only passengers until the trolley stopped and picked up a woman.  She walked onto the trolley, looking for a place to sit.  I could see her taking inventory on the kid to parent ratio when she looked at the counselor and I and said “Are all these yours?”

Here it comes.

Prepare yourself, Laura.  Emotional boxing gloves in place. 

“They sure are, plus one on the way,” the counselor said patting my tummy. 

That man has a way with words.

She did a head count and watched for a moment as Mayer and Reef wrestled over a seat.

Those boys were not helping.

She walked down the isle, and sat right behind me. 

“Oh my gosh,” she said.

I might need an emotional crash helmet for this one, I thought.  Ready for impact!

“I would love to have another baby,” she said.

Wait, what!

I turned in my seat and comfortably faced her.  Did this woman really just say what I think she did.

“I have three daughters and would love to try for another, but I’m too old.  You’re so lucky.”

I’m not sure if she saw my face light up or not, but I was beyond touched.

“Thank you,” I said.  “It’s a lot of work, but worth it.”

“Do you know what you’re having yet?” she asked.

I explained to her we are going to wait a while, I wasn’t that far along yet.

“I can tell you’re having a girl by the wrinkles on your face,” she said and leaned into my ear.  “I had the same wrinkles.”

Compliment or insult, I decided it was pretty cool to be told I was having a girl by a stranger.  What a cool lady.

But, really where are the people waiting to tell me I’m in over my head?

The world’s overpopulated?
But you've already got your girl!

We don’t have enough resources?

Children are a nuisance?
It's too difficult in this day and age to raise children.

Or the dreaded sexually explicit comment -
 "You do know what causes that, don't you?"

Really, I’ve got this.  

I’m prepared – as soon as I find someone who wants to take me on.

Right after I found out I was pregnant, I went to the vitamin store in search of the best prenatal.  I asked an assistant for help and she started asking all sorts of questions. 

How many children I already had? 

How old was I? 

Was this baby a surprise?

Finally!  Somebody ready to fight me on this when she started “compliment gushing” all over me.  It was really quite disgusting; praising me, telling me how gorgeous I am, what a blessing this was and she felt a beautiful female spirit near me. 

“You’re having a daughter,” she said.

Then she had the nerve to sing “Happy Birthday” to me (I told her I’d just turned 42) in the middle of the store in the most angelic voice I’ve ever heard.  Where are these nice people coming from?  I’m just not ready for all this!

My neighbor the caterer brought me this beautiful ”BLESSING” banner after she found out then news.  

It’s made with pages from an old Bible that was beyond saving.  She even used pages from the book of Psalms.  PSALMS!

I’ve had meals brought in by family and friends.  My mom made me acorn squash and organic chicken.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

When I was really discouraged one day, my sister-in-law Heather spent some time with me talking about the blessing of babies; how once all this passed I would have a little treasure to hold and I really felt it.  She was so sincere.  It's helped me keep perspective ever since.

My friend Melanie gave me all her maternity clothes and let me tell you, they are cute. 

Not one shirt in strawberry or sailboat print, nothing pastel pink; nothing polyester either. Just cute 100% cotton maxi dresses, skirts and ruffle shirts.  Things I would really where even if I wasn’t pregnant. 

Nothing but love.

You people out there are all just too nice. 

What is this world coming too!

Pregnancy over 40

So, here I am – unable to drive by a Pizza Hut without throwing up. 

I can’t stand the taste of the filtered water that pours out of my faucet.

Once I wash and cut an apple up, I can no longer eat it.

Don’t even get me started about sweet potato fries.  I didn’t see that one coming.

On my 42^nd birthday, I stared at myself in the mirror doing that self-inventory we all do on birthdays. 

“Do I look old?”

“Anymore wrinkles this year?”

“I have got to get my roots done?”

And then we’re reminded how blessed we are to have another year and that we really have no control over if we get older or not.

I noticed a few gray hairs and plucked them out of existence.  That will teach them! when something inside felt different.  Maybe I should take a pregnancy test?

It read negative.  Ok, so everything is normal.  Everything goes back to normal when  few days later that voice came back.  “Maybe you should take another pregnancy test,” it said. 

Positive.

Positive again.

Two pregnancy tests couldn’t lie simultaneously.  Oh my goodness.  Another self-inventory while staring in the same mirror. 

“Can I do this?”

“Am I strong enough?”

“Oh my gosh!”

“PREGNANT!”

At 42, I will say this baby was a planned surprise. 

Planned: because the counselor and I have been wanting another child for several years now,

blame it on these precious people,

particularly this little one.

So, we’ve wanted another baby.  I just have been unable to get pregnant.

Surprised:  because after all this time I didn’t think it would ever happen!  Oh my!

I did great the first few weeks – good attitude, stayed busy, wasn’t too sick and then WHAM!

I’m in bed and the room’s spinning.  The counselor, bless his heart wants to make a grocery list and I can’t even mention the foods we need.  He throws out ideas for quick and easy dinners and I ask him to stop.  It makes me too sick.  He’s on his own at the grocery store.  Hopefully no one will starve.

I have my moments and those moments sometimes can to turn into entire days were I don’t move, but I’ve found if I have the strength walks around the neighborhood, bike rides and cuddle-a-thons in the bed with the kids are getting me through.

And of course the idea of a baby!  Wow!  I am so blessed.

As I get older, I marvel at the joy my children bring me.

I never considered myself a sentimental person, but my oh my – count me into that club. 

Dandelion bouquets, lullabies, teaching a child how to swim, family prayer – the good times can be really special.

(Yes, those are wild horses.)

I can share this because with five somewhat older children, I’m on the other side of exhaustion.  

No longer am I in the really hard physically demanding days of child-rearing.  The diaper bags, nursing blankets and the dreaded car seat transfers; the lifting from tub to changing table to crib, sleepless nights and broken nap schedules.  I survived. Now my oldest is my best baby sitter and my youngest is so capable, she can practically run things around here.  I won’t have to chase a toddler with the pregnancy.  Do I dare say I'll have a lot of help with this next baby?  I think so.

My children are so excited.  We’re looking though names, they’re going the extra mile to keep the house clean while I spend the day eating bon bons and taking bubble baths (ha ha) and they don’t seem to mind another night of waffles for dinner (that seems to be something I can make without hesitation)!  I should probably mention my neighbor the caterer I’m stalking.  Kristin’s the best cook; everything's homemade. I’m just going to sit outside her house with an empty dinner plate and beg for scraps.  If I don’t have to prepare the food, I can usually eat it.

Before the morning sickness turned wicked, the family and I spent a week in Telluride; hence all the gorgeous fall photos.  Considering my on-going pregnancy hot flash, the cool 50 degree days of Telluride left me sporting a permanent smile.  

That place was the perfect start of what may not be the easiest pregnancy.  I could reflect, share and embrace the joy and chaos of my family, so here we go again!  I know what I'm in for.  I may have an uphill battle to climb, but I put my trust in God because at the top of that hill is one of His precious children waiting to call me "Mommy."

A rainbow of dressers

We had a beautiful rainbow here in Phoenix this week and I had an idea to create my own rainbow with furniture pieces I've painted over the years.  

And, last but not least!  

These furniture pieces are from the past, but to see my latest furniture up-dos you can check me out in Mesa at Antique Plaza, booth #52 or in Chandler at Merchant Square,  booth #73.  You can also follow me on facebook and pinterest.

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