The man in my life likes to work with his brain, not his hands. I'm all for shattering gender stereotypes, but at times this still strikes me as odd. I'm the tinkerer in the house. I don't know much, but I like to try things. I call Dad (and Mom, who's no slouch with a paintbrush) for advice and Google the rest.
My husband doesn't understand why I went to all the trouble, but I think I've completed a project that would make my family proud. "Sand with the grain" proved to be pretty useful after all.
I didn't know a thing about buying or refinishing furniture, but I thought that $45 seemed worth the gamble. I brought it home. The pedestal was painted, and the top had water damage. It looked like someone had been storing paint cans on it, but I assumed it was nothing a little sanding wouldn't fix. Maybe I could paint it black to cover all the damage.
After months of work (and delay), I moved this into the foyer today.
You can see that it is a perfect fit.
I stalled on the project for months when I reached a challenging part. The amazing Holly from Storywood Designs advised me how to get over the hump and finish the table if I ever got done sanding it. She told me that the tabletop and feet were walnut and that I'd chosen a gem. What beginner's luck. There would be no paint on this table.
With Holly's advice and a few more phone calls to Dad, I finished the transformation last night--just in time to hold our ornament tree for the fragile ornaments I do not trust to hang on the Christmas tree.
I mentioned before that I don't think pride is always a bad thing. I hope not, because I'm awfully proud of my new table. I only wish that I'd been more interested in this type of work when I was young and had a teacher on hand. As it is, I will keep calling Dad and proving that women can be handy too. Maybe Santa will make me my very own workshop for Christmas?