I fell in love yesterday

Yesterday Tom and I went antiquing.

We headed to Sewickley. Tom said he knew of some shoppes there. Turns out he didn’t. We drove past the only place that had stuff spilling out of it’s doors, the word Antiques plastered across its front, but because it wasn’t in Sewickley and it wasn’t the place he was thinking about and it was on the other side of the road and he would have had to slow the car down to turn around, we didn’t stop, we continued to Sewickley.


We walked up one side of the main street Sewickley and down the other. No antique stores. We did, however, find a quaint outdoor cafe to get a bite of lunch. We also found Ideas Vintage Market.

I walked in and was transported to France. The furniture was works of art. A turquoise distressed rocker that I am sure has, or will soon, rock someone’s baby to sleep. French white dressers, benches, and tables. A secretary, distressed in light grey and white, with the softest pink painted inside the glass doors. I couldn’t get enough. I walked slowly by each piece, caressing them, admiring them, imaging the home it would live in.

I was smitten.

I have, in the past, painted furniture; Jena’s bedroom set bought from a WVU grad, small flea market tables, benches, adirondack chairs, even brooms. It was fun and a great way to buy cheap pieces and turn them into something fresh. Give them a new personality. But these pieces, I so tenderly touched at Ideas, were more than just refreshed, these pieces were transformed.

I realized I was holding my breath. I was awestruck.

Judith, the owner, came over and introduced herself. She explained that she opened the shop yesterday and that she paints the pieces herself. Furthermore, the row of big, white, tables in the center of the room were there for the furniture painting classes she is going to teach on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

“CLASSES? I can come learn how to paint pieces like this?”


My mind was going a mile a minute. I could paint our bedroom furniture. The secretary in the living room. My rocker. The lamp. I could find some cheap end tables on Craig’s List, recreate them, and save myself the price of brand new, french white, distressed, Arhaus, Restoration Hardware, or Pottery Barn pieces selling for $900.

Tom overheard us. Slowly he approached. I noticed he wasn’t fondling any of the furniture as he passed by it.

“Is there anything you won’t paint?” he asked Judith. I knew where this was going. He is from the tribe that doesn’t believe in painting wood. Wood is wood and should look like wood, is his motto; unless it is bad or ugly wood, or my furniture-which he doesn’t like anyway.

Judith had his number. She showed him the pieces that she hadn’t painted, either because of the detail in the wood, the grain, or an inlay. She had some of his tribal blood in her too. He was soothed. Temporarily.

We left the store with Judith’s number so I could text her pictures of pieces I wanted to get her opinion on and with plans to attend a class. I jabbered all the way home about the money we could save given my creative license.

I spent the better part of today scouring Craig’s List for end tables. I had found a pair yesterday for $425 at a place in the Strip that I was considering, until I found Ideas Vintage Market. Now I was on a mission to rehab something. For really cheap.

As I was scouring, I was also texting Judith with pictures of the bedroom furniture. I didn’t dare send pictures of the secretary, Tom had made it quite clear on the way home that his grandmothers piece was OFF LIMITS.

“Okay. Okay.”

I excitedly told him Judith LOVED our bedroom furniture. Since it was a family piece from his mom I knew he would be pleased. Judith texted that maybe we just wanted an antique lace linen to throw over them, but what color was I thinking. I excitedly shared all this with Tom.

“PATRICIA, PLEASE find SOMETHING TO DO,” he admonished from his place on the couch.

Have you ever been so insulted and cracked up at the same time? Had he just said that? Like he was a 1950’s executive, home from a long days work, enjoying his martini but having to move one more ceramic knic-nac his bored housewife made at ceramics class in order to put his drink down.

“OHHH. You didn’t just say that.”

A couple of days ago Heidi told me she thinks I should get a dog. She said I needed something to take care of since I am still having empty-nest-postpartum-wedding- depression symptoms. I told her I really didn’t want a dog, and how funny she should say that because Landon thought I should get a fish.

They are right. I need to have something to transform.

I am going to paint some bad ass furniture.




PS I found some end table to love

I am so excited I can't sleep

I am so excited I can’t sleep


I deserve it … NO… I want it……

In celebration of my 100th post…and because I don’t have anything new ready to share with you this week…I am rerunning my first post from November 5, 2010. I can’t believe how fast time has gone by or that I have stuck with this for so long. I am impressed with myself : )

I recently bought some new furniture. Okay, I recently bought a lot of new furniture, at a rather expensive local store. Something I don’t do, I shop for bargains, get it cheap, purchase incrementally. But this day I decided I had slid off my fiancé’s leather couch for the last time. I hopped in the car, his car- a cute red convertible- something else I don’t do because I am afraid to scratch, bump or bruise it. I went by myself, another novelty, we usually we shop for major purchases together, but today he wanted to watch the masters and I wanted to shop in the spirit of endless possibilities. It worked for both of us. I stopped for a latte along the way, feeling much younger than I am as my hair flew in a million directions in the open topped car. I didn’t allow myself to think about the knots I would attempt to brush through tonight. I arrived at the store, was greeted by Sherri, a very friendly sales woman who quickly became my new best friend.

I found a great couch; over sized, on sale and I even though I picked the most expensive house couchfabric to cover it in, the price didn’t go up. This was my day! So, it only made sense to now find a matching chair, which I did, with an ottoman. Unfortunately the fabric I picked did increase the price, but I had saved so much on the couch, right? Feeling very satisfied with my purchases, the thought occurred to me-this may be a good time to consider looking for a new dining room table.

When I moved into my fiancés home in November we combined our collection of “lifetime, kid functional, great flea market finds” furniture. I guess you could call the look….ugly. It didn’t take me long to find the perfect pedestal table. And it was being discontinued, so the price was great! How blessed am I?

I returned home and tentatively shared my expedition with Tom. He didn’t quite follow my excitement, but he is smart enough and old enough to know better than to say…”You did what?” Plus we agreed I was buying, so….what could he say? Other than, “you really want to get rid of my leather couch and chair?”

As time set in I panicked, I asked myself “What have I done?” I felt guilty. It was too much. Who do I think I am? I spoke with some friends who assured me I got great deals and it is all really good furniture…as only good women friend will do…and they said, “After all, you deserve it!”

Really? I deserve it? What does that mean? I had been noticing for awhile that women say to themselves or to a friend, “You deserve it”! When I heard this spoken to me I wondered what I had done to deserve it? Had I been really, really good, worked really, really hard, done “it” right? Is that why I deserve it? What if I hadn’t overachieved, does that mean I don’t deserve it?

As I thought about this, I concluded that we tell ourselves and others “They deserve it” because it is a very clever detour around feeling our guilt of wanting and getting! I watch my women friends and clients work harder and never feel good enough or deserving. I see us care more about others and care less about ourselves. I began to get curious. What if I felt my wants, regardless of what I have done, accomplished, or achieved? Could I let myself befriend my desire, know it intimately, inside and out, like a treasured lover? Can I tolerate feeling my desire, as well as, the possibility of being disappointed?. What if I want it and can’t afford it or my partner isn’t in agreement with my wants. Do I chose to ignore my desire so I never feel my disappointment? Like the saying, “Blessed are those that expect nothing for they shall not be disappointed.” I think this is convenient… for awhile… but exhausting and soul robbing in the end.

I bought this furniture because I wanted it. Plain and simple. I want my new home to welcome me at the door with furnishing I adore and can fall into at the end of the day. I want to feel proud of the home we have created and welcome friends in to share our loved creation. I wanted it, I could make it happen, this time, and for that I feel extremely grateful. I may also deserve it, but that is not why I bought it. I trusted myself, my desire, felt it and loved it into action.

With love