Somebody teach me!

In addition to learning how to garden, I really want to learn how to make rag rugs. And how to fold origami. And how to quilt. (And how to do the wiring for a new lighting fixture where one does not currently exist, but it seems wise to leave that up to my brother-in-law who once worked more or less as an electrician during the summers.) 

I think I could probably handle the quilting - if only I had a sewing machine (and $150 to buy said sewing machine). But the rag rugs mystify me - even after reading several different explanations/tutorials - and I have a feeling origami would do the same. Imagine the crafting I could get involved with if only I had these skills! The crafting could go on for hours! 

Oh, it's beautiful! 

I know you experts are out there . . . give me some pointers, tips, secrets, tricks of the trade please! 

Powder. Room. Reveal. Finally!

I've been majorly MIA in the world 'o blogging as of late, but not without good reason - we recently undertook the Epic Clean of 2011 in preparation for what Brad calls the Great Validation '11. Which, in more colloquial terms, is known as my mom's birthday party at our house this past Sunday for which my sisters and their families came over and our house was on display and under scrutiny (at least in my mind). 

BUT ANYWAY, all of this is important with regard to this post b/c of the fact that it motivated Brad and me to finally finish the powder room remodel that we started, oh, like 3 months ago. Ah! 

In the long, long process, we were stymied (as my mother and my German teacher would say) by about every possible sink/plumbing problem that total amateurs might encounter. Otherwise, this whole thing would have been done in about a month. Brad estimates that we made, between the two of us, 7 total trips to Lowe's solely in relation to the sink. But it's too exhausting to even think of chronicling all those trials right now, esp. when there are pictures to show . . . 

So, quickly, here's what we started with (when we moved in in August '09): 

Then, here's where we were after we started removing the wallpaper (which turned out to be much more difficult and time-consuming - even in this 2x4 of a room - than we imagined) in July or August 2010 (it looked like this for the next 8 months): 

Finally, sometime this February, we got back to work. And where once there was this terrible yellow wall-mount sink 

now there was this disgusting-looking wall 

Here's my beloved with the reciprocating saw on one of the many, many days of sink tribulations: 

Once everything old had been removed/scraped/sawed/sanded/or-otherwise-dismantled, we began the "reconstruction process." Which went a little something like this:  

1.  Brad and I painted the top part of the walls with 2 coats of the same color as the living room. (It's an awesome Martha Stewart color in Behr paint, but I can't find it at Lowe's anymore and don't remember the name.) 

2.  Next my mom helped us apply paintable beadboard wallpaper on the bottom part of the walls (read: she applied it. Although to my credit, I did all the cutting with the utility knife). 

3.  Then the three of us had the most difficult time ever figuring out how to cut the chair rail accurately without a mitre saw and mitre box - or even a compass. After much folly, and some wasted chair rail, we figured it out, and affixed it to the wall with finishing nails. I filled in the nail holes with paintable silicon for a smooth look. 

4.  After the beadboard had been up for 24+ hours (I guess that's drying time - ?), we painted the beadboard, chair rail, interior door frame, and baseboards (which we didn't replace) with Behr paint in Blizzard Fog. It's a soothing white with (I think) gray undertones, and it matches the sink and toilet pretty perfectly.

5.  Next came the faucet and sink drama installation. Through eBay we'd gotten a brand-new Price Pfister faucet, towel ring (perfect for the small space), and tp holder - all for $65! The pedestal sink (which I'm in love with) was under $50 at Lowe's - the smallest and, conveniently, cheapest one they had. 

Getting the faucet properly installed was more than a bit of a challenge. I can't tell you how many different times I had silicon on me (yes, Diplo, Brad was quite wary), but we managed to make it happen eventually. Attaching the sink basin to the wall was likewise a sh*t show and not easy on our backs. I installed the new tp and towel holders with ease though. 

6.  Bullcrap, etc., annoyance, dysfunction, etc.: that about sums up getting the sink in working order. But it's done now, so let's (please) not dwell. Although I should note that there exists unanimous agreement in our house: our plumbing adventures have come to completion. Even the cats concur.

7.  Brad painted the nasty, greasy-looking ceiling the same color as the beadboard and totally brightened up the room. 

Okay, now that you've indulged me, here is is (!) . . . 

Doesn't the floor look so much less unstylish now? 



Like those blurry babies? I made 'em using two of my thrift store frames and pressed flowers! (More on that in another post.) Regarding the blur:  it was hard to get a clear pic. from that position in the bathroom. 

And another . . . 

So - what do you think of our thirfty powder room remodel?! We LOVE it, and every time I'm in there, I'm amazed that Brad and I accompished everything on our own (with, of course, a bit of physical labor courtesy of my mom, some plumbing advice from Amanda's plumber bro, and lots of discussions with Lowe's employees). Soon enough I'll estimate the costs - you'll be impressed, I swear - but right now I'm still recovering from all the cleaning of last week and this weekend . . . yawn. 

If you want something done . . . Part 2

For our front living room window and window seat (as well as some throw pillows, I hope), I months ago chose this Ralph Lauren fabric that I mentioned here. This week, decorator's fabrics are on sale 40% off at JoAnn's, and even though starting Friday they will be 50%, Brad and I scoffed up the 1.2 yards that were left at our JoAnn's (he would probably prefer I call it my JoAnn's . . . ) just in case it was gone by then. 

Oh, and b/c I accidentially took down the old blind and caulked the holes when we began working on the bookcase/window seat redo three weeks ago (oops). So, we've had a bare window by day, and by night, Brad's been taping up a white sheet with duct tape (who doesn't love silver and white?!) so that all those neighbors who are (un-)interested in our lives can't see in. 

Anyway, we decided on a valance and a wooden mini-blind for the window b/c: full drapes will crowd the space too much since there's a window seat and will be pillows there as well; and a custom-made blind (the pull down kind) which is what we both prefer is simply too darn expensive. 

I decided to make the valance myself. How hard could this be? I ask. Brad grimmaces. I'll look for directions online, I say. 

(5 min. passes) 

(Did I mention I don't own a sewing machine?) 

I can't find any no-sew valances that are the kind of thing I want, so I'm just gonna do what I think makes sense, I say. Brad grimmaces (again). I can do this! I say. Just you wait and see! 

(2-2.5 hrs. pass) 

Valance looks lovely; appears to be the correct length; appears to be the correct width. Brad is over-joyed (he has been watching zombies in French, ocassionally glancing my way with some skepticism). We agree to hang the rod and put it up tomorrow (which is today), since it's 10 p.m. 

(19 hrs. pass) 

I hang the rod. We put up the valance. He cheers. I grimmace. Step back. Grimmace again. 

I don't like it laying flat like that. I changed my mind. I want it ruffly, I say. 

He looks at me, then at the valance. Steps closer. Are you supposed to be able to see the seams? he asks. Yes, I say, when fabric is not super heavy you can see the hems through it. Then I look closer. Sunlight streams in through the valance. 

It seems that the brilliant seamstress - failing to realize that you would, in fact, be able to see the fabric folded under for the hems when the sun shines through - did not think to cut the jagged line out of the edge of the fabric or even up the length of said fabric across the width of the valance. 

And, now it's not wide enough, b/c I like it ruffled. So it needs to be twice as long, which of course can't happen unless you would buy twice the length of fabric (which would be ridiculously expensive to do). 

And so: the stitch witchery needs to be ripped out, the fabric edges need to be trimmed, and I need to figure out how you make two valances for one window without it looking idiotic. And then I need to remake it (I'd say sew, but that's not true) and make a sister/brother for it, too. But I face this task with no fear . . . just a little bit of trembling. 

Poison Control Center (a.k.a. If you want something done right, don't ask me)

Don't be alarmed: no one was harmed in the making of this post - or in the ruining of the lamp that inspired it. My hands did look like this, though: 

And then - after Brad called Poison Control to make sure that I was not going to be poisoned by the black paint that would not come off my hands despite 7 minutes of washing and scrubbing with a rough sponge - they looked like this: 

Like that shine? It's Crisco vegetable oil. 

Yes, they are glistening with vegetable oil. Which actually worked pretty well. After the second try. 

Anyway, age-old wisdom tells us that anything worth doing is worth doing right. My house/craft/cleaning motto, by contrast, is more like, "Anything worth doing is worth doing now." Herein we find numerous problems, not the least of which is my undertaking projects without sufficient preparation, know-how, time, and/or interest. 

See, for example, Thursday evening, which can be summed up by the following equation: 

   1 cheap spray paint primer 
+ 1 dirty lamp 
+ 10 minutes before dinner 
+ 1 over-eager spray painter (me) 
+ 1 impatient spray painter (me)     
DISASTER 

After spraying the crap primer on probably too thick (it costs $1 for a reason), I sprayed the dries-in-10-minutes black Krylon on too thick, and it started dripping. I then had the bright idea to wipe it off. In the stationary tub with my hands. You've already seen how I faired in that deal; well, the other guy got it worse: 

I like to think this lamp isn't ruined. But I also like to think that I've never massaged vegetable oil into my hands (and the base of a lamp) at the suggestion of Poison Control. 

$23 + 20 minutes of shopping =

8 second-hand picture frames that will be painted and variously distressed to look super rockin'. 

What a score! (Only six of the eight are pictured.)

I'd call this a thrift store success. We went in specifically looking for cheap-but-cool frames to make-over. Not a half hour later, we left with an armload of said c-b-c frames and still had enough money to buy groceries. (That's actually just a rhetorical flourish; the groceries were already in a trunk.) 

If you've recently done any shopping for picture frames, you know how dang pricey they can be. I usually look at Target, JoAnn Fabrics, and Pottery Barn (though I never buy any from the latter), and depending on the size of the frame and the store, you're talking $10-$80. 

I recently saw ones very similar to the small oval ones at JoAnn's on sale for $10, down from $20, during their Daffodil Days sale. That was $10 a piece; we paid $2.12 for the pair. (And, I just have to say it: they had a pink tag and pink tags were 1/2 off, so they should have only been $1.06 total. But the girl didn't ring it up right, and Brad insisted I not "make a scene." Would it not have been reasonable simply to inquire about the sale price . . . ?) 

I've already got plans for the little oval ones and the bigger green one in the middle. In addition to the painting/distressing, most of the pictures will be removed and replaced. Unfortunately, I cannot say that no animals will be harmed in the process - that rooster's gettin' the ax.