Gotta love a project

So, one of my love languages is furniture.  My husband knows this and he keeps me well supplied in  antique/old furniture.  I can't resist a good deal or a fun project.  I've done it all....stripped, refinished, painted, reupholstered, etc.

My latest adventure began when Joel brought this little gem home.  He works a part time job at Lowe's and someone just left it.  He rescued it and brought it home for me to love.  I looks a little sad and was in too bad of shape to be refinished with stain so I decided to paint it. Admittedly, this pained me a little because it is a good piece of Thomasville furniture and it somehow seems wrong to paint "good" furniture.  But, this couldn't be salvaged to stain.

Joel sanded most of the original finish off and glued/nailed the interior to get it structurally sound.

I started with the drawers.  Painted them a pale blue.  Gianna helped me steel wool them after the paint coat to make them nice and smooth.  She is such a great helper.

Then the body got two coats of the blue paint.  This picture was taken in between coats.

After two coats of paint I brushed on a layer of walnut colored stain, gently rubbing off the excess, but leaving stain in the nooks and crannies.  Once the stain dried I added a layer of polyurethane as a sealer.  Final touch was some new hardware and, presto, one gussied up piece of furniture!


Good find + $20 materials = Fun project.

The Greatest of Their Generation?

I used to admire other cultures for the way they valued their elderly.  I often lamented that Americans didn't seem to share this esteem and regard for the folks who lived well into the years. Then I began working at an assisted living facility and my entire perspective changed.

The beauty of such an experience is that you gain exposure to a large cross section of people and personalities in a short amount of time.  As the years go on you can literally interact with hundreds of people.  Many people earn your respect and you put them into the category of seniors who should be admired for their wisdom.  They are the people who make you believe that other cultures get it right.
Others, however, quickly shatter your naivete and make you realize that there is nothing inherently noble about old age; no reason to presume that acumen or enlightenment go hand in hand with the years.

I've come to the conclusion that age is much like alcohol; it aides in revealing your true character.  If you were a kind, generous, thoughtful soul in your youth, most likely you'll be all of those things to a greater degree in your old age.  But for every wise and wonderful character who lives to a ripe old age, there is a jerk who just happened to still be sticking around.   The folks who were selfish, narcissistic, rude in their youth will grow to be all the more so in their longevity.

It's a fascinating study of the human psyche, really; how some seniors maintain their dignity, independence and positive outlook in spite of the challenges that come with advanced age.  Others seem to believe that by living to a ripe old age they've earned the right to do nothing for themselves, to demand that you treat them with respect, even when they show no respect for you or themselves for that matter.  The people who are vile and emotionally decrepit are not due any sort of esteem as a result of the clicking of the calendar.  They have not earned a position of respect simply because they have lived a long time.  But some are worthy of reverence, due deference.  Some are wise and sage and deserve to be placed on a pedestal, set aside so that we can learn from their valuable experiences.  Cherish and value these folks.  Sit with them, listen to their stories.  Appreciate them, learn from them, and live in such a way that some day you will be someone worthy of admiration.

Home sweet home.

 33708 Washington Dr. - Forever Home

This morning my parents drove out of the driveway for their last time as they begin the newest leg of this journey we call life.  Over four decades ago my grand parents purchased this house, nestled in the quiet community of Yucaipa, CA.  It's funny to think about how attached we can become to a house; how it becomes a home.  How, in some ways, the home itself becomes a member of the family.  It's a subtle evolution, unfolding over the years. It begins with simple acts of daily life, then the acts add up and become a sum of memories that we draw upon for the remainder of our days.

My uncles and mom lived there when they graduated from high school, as did I.  We all walked to Valley Elementary and Yucaipa Jr. High from this home.  We all had sleepovers and parties there.  In the late 80's my parents and I moved in to live with my grandmother in a mutually beneficial living situation that helped shape who I am as a person.  Living in a multi-generational household is a wonderful experience, albeit challenging at times.  My grandmother would sit in the living room and watch me dance.  She sat with me at the kitchen table while I did my homework.  The holidays came and went, with them visits from the Brennans, Aunt Mildred and Uncle Jim, various family and family friends; it was never quiet and there was always enough food to feed three armies, but the foundation of family was solidified in that kitchen.  I'd spend the night at the grandparents only to be awakened at 5 am by grandpa to go to breakfast, or even earlier by Uncle Jamie to go body surfing at Doheny Beach.

 Numerous memories and life changing experiences took place in this beautiful backyard:  My parents were married here.  My wedding reception was here.  Mom and John has a fabulous party here to celebrate their marriage.  The neighbors and family spent many a 4th of July sitting on the slope in the yard watching the fireworks show from the Yucaipa Regional Park.  I played Frisbee with my Uncle Jamie here.  I got rides on the family ATV here with Uncle Jon at the helm.  We played fetch with Scooter and Peaches and Bosco and Maggie and Copper.  Thanksgiving dinners on the deck.  Aunt Mildred and Uncle Jim's 50th anniversary party.  I remember the days of looking out over the valley to the sight of endless orange groves, their smudge pots glistening in the sharpness of a winter night.  And later the smell of the blossoms from those groves that signaled the coming of spring.

             

Countless hours spent swimming with Amber; spraying Sun-In in our hair and laying on the deck to get tan.  Night swimming with Becky after we spent the day choreographing to musicals in the living room. Independence Day brought grandpa setting up fireworks down by the pool, then getting chased around the deck by them when they went spinning off into oblivion.   Summer afternoons lounging, my daughter learning to swim, the dogs taking a lap; hours upon hours of my childhood spent swimming until exhaustion all the while gaining a ravenous appetite that could only be quenched by peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (the most perfect of post-pool meals).  

Learning how to drive in the big, gold tuna boat that was my grandmother's Ford Maverick.  Turning 16 and getting one the best presents I've ever received to this day, the beautiful emerald green VW Bug that mom parked behind my bedroom window so I'd be surprised.  Trick or treating to the Martins and Rodgers and DeJagers houses.  The pre-Halloween ritual of setting up  dozens of ceramic pumpkins in the front window to illuminate the way for the neighborhood kids.  Getting the mail became a chore every fall as you'd walk across the grass that was filled with pecans, bruising your feet along the way.  Then the gang of black birds would descend upon the yard, gathering up their little shelled bombs, dropping them onto the driveway in the hopes of cracking them open for a treat.  Springtimes were spent watching my dad work on cars in the garage as he listened to Vin Scully on the radio, running lunch out to him like a dutiful daughter. 

Bringing Gianna home from the hospital, placing her in the arms of our family matriarch is one of the greatest memories I will ever have.  The following six years filled with her laughter and tears and directions aimed at Papa as she taught him how to dance.  My girl dragging a chair up to the kitchen sink, standing on tip toe to be tall enough to help her Dede make a cake.  Year after year, life after life filled the rooms of our house as our hearts were filled by the comfort of home.  

In this home I learned from the greats how to be a woman, a wife, a mother, sharing and cherishing all that life sends our way; weddings, births, deaths and everything in between.  The memories are abundant and I embrace each and every one because this house, this home helped define who I am.  It was the rock, the one constant throughout all of life's ups and downs.  And although it is no longer the address of OUR family, it will continue to be a foundation, the heart and soul of family; the frame that will encompass the memories for the folks who move in this weekend.  May it give them as much security and pleasure as it has given us these last 42 years.  It may be made of wood and plaster and stucco but 33708 Washington Dr. lives and breathes as plainly as any of the other loves of my life.  

Thanks for the memories. On that note, Dede and Papa, hurry up and get here to we can start making a new volume of memories.

There is nothing new under the sun.

*SPOILER ALERT - I DISCUSS A FEW PLOT POINTS IN THIS BLOG*

My daughter and I went to see the movie Maleficent today.  We had both really been looking forward to it since we saw a preview for it last year.  I'm consider myself a cinephile and this seems to be yet another trait that Gianna has inherited.  I had high hopes going in; I've always adored the story of Sleeping Beauty and I think that the original animated Disney version is still the most beautiful film they've ever released.

How excited was I when I saw the first pics of Jolie as the title character?  Kudos to costume and make-up...they got her spot on.  I thought the way they handled the pet Raven as a man who can transform was interesting and well done.  I appreciated the nod to the original movie with the dialogue in the christening scene.  Loved the way King Stephan had the iron workers create a metal version of the tangle of thorns.  It was beautifully shot and well acted, but that is where my praise must end. The treatment, by the screenwriter in particular, made me frustrated and angry.

I'm not opposed to a re-make, at least not in principle.  However, I have grown weary with the growing number of movies/shows that take a classic, well loved story, shake it up and change everything about it, just for the sake of changing it. I grow weary of the lack of creativity that destroys something beloved in the name of perspective.  Needless to say, I walked out of the movie theatre today with a bad taste in my mouth, and it wasn't from the popcorn.

While I was annoyed with the moral ambiguity that the screenwriter wove through the story, I'll save that rant for another post.  Today I'll stick with my disgust regarding how it seems to be increasingly acceptable for people to stamp their names on other people's work and destroy the dignity of a story under the guise of "re-interpretation".  This has always bugged me.  It's one of the reasons why I've never gone to see Wicked (although, I did read the book.  It was terrible; waste of time). I adore the story/movie The Wizard of Oz.  It is one of the great pieces of American art, in my never-to-be-humble opinion.  Then someone comes along, "re-interprets" the story and gives us the REAL story of the witches of Oz.  I find that annoying and offensive.  If you want to write a story, write a story.  But don't RE-WRITE someone else's story and call it your own.  That's not creative. That's intellectually lazy. And ethically wrong, if you ask me.  

Artists - be they musicians, painters, sculptors, dancers, film makers, writers, etc. - put their work out there, in the public eye, for our combined cultural experience.  And part of the experience for some is watching/listening and being inspired by the creation.  I get that.  I get seeing a movie or reading a story and being inspired by it to the point where you want to present your vision.  I'm all for that.  Peter Jackson's King Kong, Danny Elman's Alice in Wonderland, and as silly as it sounds the Ben Stiller/Owen Wilson version of Starsky and Hutch are some examples of movies that I think were re-interpreted in a way that did justice to creative inspiration while maintaining the integrity of the original stories.  The new version of Flight of the Phoenix with Giovanni Ribisi; all the versions of A Christmas Carol (Alastair Sim, George C. Scott, Patrick Stewart....heck, even the Henry Winkler version); several more examples of excellent remakes. Those movies, those writers and directors understood a very important principle: Nothing in a creative interpretation should destroy the original story. 

Maleficent isn't the story of Sleeping Beauty, told from the point of view of the mistress of all evil.  It's a completely different story.  Simply having a few of the same characters doesn't make it the same story.  This is not the story of the evil fairy who cursed the innocent princess.  This is a story of an out of control scorned woman, using Stockholm Syndrome as an excuse for her bad behavior and as justification for the murder of the king.  Okay, okay, I've tip toed into the blog I promised I'd save for later....the one about the moral ambiguity.  Sorry.

I guess my larger point is that I wish we placed a higher value on art.  No one would think it's okay to change the name on a bank account and call the money yours.  Why do we find it acceptable for artists to have their work stripped from them in the name of re-telling a story.  It's still stealing, I don't care how you slice it.  

All in all, I'm glad I saw the movie.  Even when I don't like something I'm often glad that I saw it, if for no other reason than to have a working knowledge of the material that others are discussing.  It was a fun day, Gianna liked it (she's allowed to be wrong....lol) and yes, Aunt Pam, we went to lunch afterward.  

Danielle's thoughts.....

Last week as I was driving through my neighborhood looking at some automatic sprinklers who were competing with with rain over who could dump the most water on the lawn I literally said out loud "I hate technology."  Then I paused.  I don't hate technology.  I like technology.  I like flushing toilets and Google.  I like having a phone and having running water.  But I hate it when technology thinks for me.  Seriously.  HATE IT.  I'm using the word hate about this situation.

I don't want a machine to make my decisions.   I want the freedom to assess a situation and the ability to select my response.  Auto correct, auto locking doors, timed sprinklers, auto flush toilets....all examples of things that drive me crazy.  I'm the human.  It's MY decision to make.  Maybe I want to let the water run to let it get hot.  Or maybe I want to flush before I stand up so I don't pollute the air for the person in the next stall.  Yes, my name is spelled D-a-n-e-l-l-e not Danielle.  

Our desire for convenience has begun to epitomize laziness, if you ask me (who am I kidding - I never wait for someone to ask my opinion).  I understand that these inventions are all intended to better our lives but, really, how hard is it to flush a toilet?  OR lock your own door? I will decide when it's time to water the lawn and it won't be when it is already raining.  I will decide when to indent as I write a blog.  I am capable of turning on a faucet of water and I can even turn it off.  I'm super talented.  

And here's another point; many times the "helpful technology" doesn't work.  Then I get even MORE angry.  This thing that is supposed to make my life better isn't working and is not only not working but is making the situation worse because now my blood pressure is rising (I'm most likely cursing and contemplating throwing things) and I can't accomplish the intended task.  Incredibly frustrating.  

I'm too controlling and self sufficient to desire or appreciate things being done for me that I am perfectly capable of doing on my own.  I know the technology isn't going to change.  I know the cheese stands alone.  But as I go to sleep tonight I will be lulled to sleep by happy thoughts of simpler days that don't result in my needing anger management classes.

Clearing Out The Fridge Soup

I made tacos the other night.  They were delicious.  And as usual, even though I am only cooking for the three of us, I managed to make enough for about six armies.  It is nearly impossible for me to make small portions when I cook.  Normally this isn't a problem because I am making some pasta or sauce dish that holds up well for a few days of leftovers.  Tacos don't translate as well three days later.  So, since my girl and I are both fighting a cold I thought I'd use the taco fixins to make a fabulous soup.  It was perfect for the occasion....AND, this time the leftovers will get finished.

Taco Soup:

Leftover taco meat
Leftover diced tomatoes (plus a little more)
Leftover chopped red onion (plus a little more)
Leftover olives
Leftover diced jalapenos
Leftover corn

Add in:
2 cups chicken broth
2 cups beef broth
4 cloves minced garlic
1 bell pepper (color of your choice)
Some flat leaf parsley and a bit of fresh cilantro
A little chili powder and cumin
A sprinkle of salt and some fresh cracked pepper

Super yummy with a dollop of sour cream when served.  Enjoy!  We sure did.

Inconceivable.

I'm a full fledged movie buff.  Movies are such a powerful art form.  They can make us laugh or make us cry.  They can inspire us and move us to action.  I love movies.  Film is extraordinary to me because, like music, there is something out there for everyone.  No matter your taste or style preference there is a movie out there for you.  And as with most art, it is rare to find a piece that appeals to everyone.  I will submit to you, however, that I have found THE perfect movie: 

The 1987 classic The Princess Bride.

You know it.  Unless you are my good friend, Julie Ross, you've seen it; probably multiple times. It struck me tonight as we were watching it for our family movie night that Rob Reiner managed to create a film that has something for everyone.  

Romance:  Generally this is my least favorite genre of either movies or books (don't believe me? Read my previous post).  But TPB is able to present a story driven by the power of true love that seems sweet, genuine and grand.  

Comedy:  From dry, subtle humor to silly sight gags, the wit  in TPB runs the gamut leaving everyone laughing at some point.

Action: Peter Faulk as the grandfather says it all..."Sports?  Fighting, fencing, torture..."  Action fans will not be disappointed.

Star Power: Previously stated Columbo, Robin Wright, Mandy Patinkin, Chris Sarandon, Billy Crystal, Christopher Guest and Andre the Giant...literally the biggest man in Hollywood.  Stars galore stud this movie.  I didn't even mention Wallace Shaun or Carol Kane.

Beauty:  If you can, take a moment to stop watching the story unfold and look behind the actors to the fabulous scenery that sets the stage for this epic movie filmed on location in England and Ireland.  Truly beautiful.  Then take a moment to look at the fabulously detailed costumes that the actors are wearing.  I don't sew, but I've watching my mother sew and bead long enough to appreciate the time and effort that went into these stunning garments.

Whimsy:  Now take a moment to look past the beautiful scenery and well constructed garments to look at the ROUSs.  They are so cheesy and silly that you just have to love them.  I appreciate the fact that Reiner realized that this is a fairy tale and therefore a certain amount of simplicity speaks volumes.

Charm:  At the heart of this story you have a boy who's grandfather comes to read him a beloved story to comfort him while he is sick.  You hear a story of unending devotion, both by the lovers and the trio of friends whose job it is to reunite the man in black and Buttercup.

All in all I think that The Princess Bride is a masterpiece.  A marker of a great movie, to me, is the ability to watch it repeatedly while finding new things to enjoy with each viewing.  TPB hits the nail on the head.  I never get tired of this sweet, funny, fabulous movie.  Best.....movie.....ever.