Once upon a time there was a mystical trek back to the Mother Land of mountains, microbrews, and mi familia! And since you guys have been so awesome on not jumping the wagon after blogging silence, lacking of photo documentation, succumbing to Navy-induced breakdowns, and not having any lemons in my fridge....here's a little treat. A teaser, mind you. I don't kiss on the first date.
So while back in Oregon, I had the honor of spending 4 days on the back deck of my parents' house telling Martha Stewart to kiss my ass. And kiss it she did. I think she learned how in prison.
The canvas was my maternal grandparents' bedroom furniture. I was finally claiming it after many years of it being inherited to me, but I never had the need for all that furniture. Enter adulthood. And with that...and a move from Virginia to California...the lacking of bedroom furniture...I'm collecting my claim.
First order of business, laying down some plastic. But it didn't really help. The deck ended up with some black freckles. Woops. Time to resurface!
Please hold all fashion questions until the end of the tour. Thanks.
Camera hostage!
Middle Sister would have helped but she just got done with her own painting project and I completely understand the burnout that occurs. I almost picked up a cute little shelf at Goodwill yesterday, but it was green, and I wasn't about to start another painting project. Minus my toenails. Furniture painting quota for the year is filled.
Oh ya!
Really??? You, Baby Sister, had to take a picture of my butt? Literally. And in the background, I think it's time to recycle that trash bag box. It looks a little weathered. Or are we saving it for a yard sale?
I'm leaving the teaser at this. This is the "before." Can you wait for the "after?" I hope so. Because I'm finally getting around to blogging about the back-log. So hold on to your hard hat, y'all. We're coming back up to speed.
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