September 30, 2011

A Swing, a Miss, & a Homerun

Like every other parent since the dawn of time, when we had our daughter seven months ago, we made several naive declarations - I will never hold my daughter's back side up to my nose to check for a dirty diaper, I will never ride in the backseat with my child - and almost immediately ate our words. Almost everything we said we would NEVER do has been done...on many an occasion. I say almost, because we are still holding on to a modicum of self-respect. 1. We will NEVER drive a mini van. 2. We will NOT fill our house with cheap plastic kid stuff.

Number 1 has been easy to hold strong on. There are lots and lots of cars out there, and most of them will transport a child, no problem. However, the no cheap plastic kid stuff has proven to be slightly more difficult. Plastic and kids seem to have become synonymous these days. So when it came time to find a high chair we had to get a little creative. I quickly became obsessed with the idea of a turquoise high chair and I began a lengthy search for a vintage wood high chair that I could paint. A trip to my favorite consignment shops, boutiques, and second hand stores still left me empty handed. I almost gave up, thinking that wood high chairs must no longer exist.

Then I happened upon this picture on pinterest via Drew B. Photography. Oh. My. Lands. It was exactly what I wanted. My quest for that elusive turquoise high chair  continued.

Finally, in desperation I turned to the KSL classifieds ( a local, better, version of Craig's list) and found a sturdy, vintage wood high chair for 25 smackers. The couple we bought it from used it for their only son twenty five years ago, put it in storage and hadn't thought about it since, and it is in perfect condition! (Their son must not have been as adventurous an eater as our little H!)

Here it is before, in the kitchen (which is still in progress so ignore the crazy splotchy walls and the cereal on the floor - I can't be expected to clean when under construction). The finish on the chair was still in pristine condition so I sanded it to rough it up so the primer would have something to stick to.

After one coat of Rustoleum grey spray primer. 

A hit and a miss. (I don't know why I am busting out the baseball analogies today. I am not really a sports fan. Just a word nerd.) This is after one coat of Valspar's Exotic Sea spray paint. The second the first drops of paint hit the high chair, I knew I had made a huge mistake. The color was all wrong. Too bright. Too blue. A cool color, but not at all what I wanted.

After two coats of Krylon's Blue Ocean Breeze. Yes. Yes. Yes. This is the one. The home-run (sorry, I had to follow through on the sports lingo)!

A humble little note from the Editor (yep, that's me) about spray paint (and no, I am not being paid for this or any other of my many opinions, which is sad really, as I have a lot of them): 

While the color of Valspar's Exotic Sea wasn't right for this project, their spray paint, in my opinion, is far superior to Krylon. It went on like a dream and coated really well. The Krylon on the other hand is thin and runny and has a tendency to run if you are not really careful.  

A word to those buying spray paint at Michael's Craft: They are now locking up their multitude of spray paint, you know, in case any crafty hoodlums try to spray the display case. I am guessing that their paint doesn't turn over very often, because the two cans of Krylon I bought there (and then promptly returned) were extremely old and defective. I figure that most people won't go to the trouble of having the case unlocked (lazy crafters) and instead head to Smith's Marketplace (like I did) where your access to the trouble causing spray paint is not regulated (they also have a really wide selection.)

I also learned that not every store sells the same colors of the same brand. So while the Home Depot on 21st may carry the color Satin Jade, the Home Depot on 72nd may not. So you may want to call and ask about a specific color first before you drive all over town in search of Blue Ocean Breeze (or the perfect color of your choosing). 

Go forth and spray paint (legally of course). 

September 2, 2011

I Got It Covered

When I was little, my mother tried to give me sewing lessons. I scoffed at her, oh yes, I did scoff at her. I was more interested in hiding in my little room in the attic, cutting out pictures from Architectural Digest to create my dream house from bits and pieces of the glossy magazine. Sewing was for boring people.

Fast forward twenty + years and look at me now! I sew. Or I try to sew. In fact, almost every time I start a project I end up calling my mom to ask three hundred questions. "How do you thread this thing?" "Why is my bottom thread going all wonky?" "Was I a mistake?" (Oh wait, that's for another post.) My mother is too nice to do it to my face, but I'm sure she's the one laughing now. Boring people indeed.

It only took me six months (or is it eight? who's counting?), but I finally finished my very first quilt. Alright, if you must know, I got my mom to help me with the actual quilting part (thanks Mom), but the rest of it I did myself. Honest.

When I bought all the material to make H's bedding and pillows for her room I never intended to make a quilt. But then the fabric store got the better of me and I came home with way more material than I would ever need (big surprise). So a quilt was born. Not actually born (thank goodness, I still haven't recovered from H's traumatic delivery) but stitched together with love. Um, no, that's blood. Sometimes the needle and I don't see eye to eye. I didn't mean that as a pun. We really don't get along.

A closeup of the birdies in the top left hand corner. 

I love rick rack. Especially when it is really BIG rick rack.
 Everything good in life should be extra large.

The back side is almost as cute as the front.

I love how the new quilt coordinates with the birdies who live above the crib...

and the bedding that I made.

Now H will have something to remind her of me in the terrible event that I die before she is grown-that's irrational fear #34. I won't tell you how long the list is.


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