Thrifty Thelma and the Three Dollar Lamps

Do you have one of those friends who loves to get all her clothes at the thrift store so she can tell you all about it?

 You know the kind I mean, the Thrifty Thelma who can't receive a compliment on her  blouse without  assigning it a dollar amount followed by an outfit yakabout that sounds like a clip from The Price Is Right.

This blouse? It's Ann Taylor, and the tags were still on it.  It was only $5.00.

These Michael Kors shoes were $5.00 too.

 And this Kate Spade purse? Two bucks.

Wow. Just wow. 

I've never purchased an article of clothing in a thrift store in my life. I have enough trouble finding clothes to fit me in Retail Land where they have not yet begun to shrink. I'm sure enough not going to buy preshrunk clothes in a a place with neither a dressing room nor a return policy. That would be a trip to the crazy patch for me.

No, I'm not a Thelma in the fashion department. I totally get her, though. I get her because I'm a Thelma in just about every other department, especially in the home decorating department. I don't know what it is, folks, but I get a serious thrill (I mean a serious thrill...) out of finding stuff for my house on the cheap and then yakking it abroad to anyone who will listen.

But then, you knew that, didn't you?

 Very soon, I'm going to be finished with the Great Living Room Adventure that I've been working on for months, and I'll give you a tour. When I do, you can be certain that it's going to sound like an episode of The Price Is Right. 

Coffee table...$20.00.

Some sconces... $5.00 for the pair

Table lamps...

Three bucks.

About the cost of a pumpkin latte.
(Thrifty Thelma always throws in the comparison cost. It makes it even thriftier. )

I paid a latte apiece for the matching lamps in my living room,
and today, I'm going to yak about them.

I didn't buy them because they were pretty.  I bought them because they resembled the lamps living  in my head. Of course, the lamps in my head didn't have rusted lamp parts and a body coming apart in several places.

 And they didn't have a harp almost as tall as the lamp itself. 

What in the world is up with that harp?

But they were tall and skinny. I was looking for tall and skinny. And they weren't metal. I wasn't looking for metal.  I was looking for a modified baluster style.

And they worked.

That part's kind of important too.

So they got cleaned up, and the brass parts got polished and Rub n Buffed.  Gorilla wood glue fixed all the loose parts, and I bought new harps. (Which technically adds five bucks to each lamp, if you're keeping track.)

 I painted them with poor man's Annie Sloan in a shade  that I call taupelicious.  It's a combination of 423 different taupe rejects from my very large stash of taupe reject testers.

Because it's nearly impossible to find the perfect taupe for a project, that's why.

It's hard I tell you.

It's so hard that I have nearly broken up with taupe three times this year. When I finally created a shade that worked, I made a paint chip and took it to the paint store.  

It looks really pretty white washed with some soft white.

At least it looks pretty to me.

Kind of a latte color, don't you think?

 I could very easily sand it down in parts to distress it if I have a mind to. 

I don't really have a mind to.

The shade was actually the biggest pain.  Every lamp shade that I tried came up a bit short. Literally.  They were all ten inches in length, and they tended to make the lamp look like a gawky preteen.

See?

Longer shades were all too chiffony or pleated for the lamp in my head. 

I finally found these simple barrel shades at Target of all places for $22.00.  Lucky me, I happened to have a fifty dollar gift card to Target in my stash of unused gift cards.

So in Debbie Land, that means these shades were free.

They're a soft white, which is what I wanted, 

and they stay white even with the light on, which was important to me, too. 

I like them. 

Yes, I know it's plain. Plain happens to be exactly what I was going for here. I like to call it simple instead. Soft, restful, and simple. Those are the watchwords for the new living room.

And taupe. Don't forget taupe.

So in the end, the lamps ended up costing me about eight bucks each. Even if you add in the cost of a shade, which I didn't,  that's still only thirty dollars for the lamp and shade. Not  too shabby for a lamp that is so very much like the one living in my head, is it?

No, I don't think so either.

And that's all I have for today. I think it has stopped raining enough for Mr. Backhoe Man to begin the terrible, horrible, very bad, no good lawn destruction, and I need to go upstairs and put on the big girl pants...

... which I can assure you would never come from a thrift store. 

What about you? 

What will you buy from the thrift store?

What won't you buy?

And yes, dear Farm Sister. You do not need to answer this question. I know the answer fully well. Shhh.

.

Finally, The Kitchen Reveal

There's an old country saying that, with apologies to the grammar mavens, 

goes something like this:

I ain't what I ought to be

I ain't what I'm gonna be

But praise the Lord...

I ain't what I was.

Rip Van Kitchen ~ Before

I should have been ashamed to yak about it,
but I introduced Rip Van Kitchen back in THIS POST,
 right after I stripped the terra cotta plaid wallpaper 
and extra large '80s fruit border. 

Then, I painted it yellow.  

We still had the yukky vinyl floors and the oakish cabinets with their shiny brass hinges and (not knobs, but) handles. Why each drawer had two of them, I do not know.  That vanilla colored counter was laminate and in about the same shape as the floor. Unfortunately, you can't throw rugs over a counter.

Pathetic. 

But I had a plan in my head,
and it looked something like this:

My version of a farmhouse kitchen.

Dove white paint for the cabinets,
and beadboard for the soffits.

We wanted a few glass doors so we had someone with a router
 cut the center out of two of them.

Glass panes were $5.00 each and installed at the glass shop. 

You can't really see it in these pictures,
but  the inside is backed with beadboard.
I filled  it with mostly white dishes.
~ Plus a little pop of red.

Hidden hinges weren't in the budget for this phase of the project,
but we used white ones to make it as seamless as possible.

Black knobs are new, but the pulls  are the old ones painted oil rubbed bronze.
One  pull per drawer, thankyouverymuch. 

Stop looking at the baseboard. We haven't finished the shoe molding yet. 

We did replace the old off white outlets and switches with new white ones.
That was such a little thing, but it made a big difference.
I don't know why I didn't do it sooner.

As you can see, a backsplash wasn't in the budget yet either.

We did get a (solid surface) countertop, though...
Which necessitated a new sink...
Which just begged for a new faucet. 

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly...

Please notice how the counter picks up the color of the new floor. I stressed over that. 

And I guess I'll mention the new dishwasher.
I did not want to buy a new one, but you can blame Cascade for just so long.

~ So says the husband...

It's the reason that a built- in microwave 

will have to be part of the next project as well. 

I'm not complaining.

It  just gives me something to look forward to. 

 I'll just rest my wearies at the bar and sit a spell. 

I have to sit there, of course,

 because it's the only place to sit right now. 

I can't bring that old table and chairs 

into this new kitchen without a face lift, can I?

No, I don't think so either.  

 And so, the project continues for another day.

'Cause it's the song that doesn't end...

It just goes on and on my friend... 

*****

By the way, those windows were washed inside and out with so much vinegar, the place smelled like a salad bar. It's just a glare. Felt the need to mention that in case the Duchess reads this. 

Finishing What I Started

So here's something that you might not have noticed about me.

But then again, maybe you have... 

I'm the world's worst finisher. 

It's true. It seems that no matter what I do, I have the tendency to leave some little detail unfinished. I like to call it my signature style. My family just calls it my annoying little habit.

Take this closet for example.

This is the closet that I was painting the day I got the terrible horrible very bad no good news. If you look closely, you will note that the wall color is blue.

The wall color of the adjacent (master) bedroom, however?   It's green.  It. has been green since the turn of the century. The other closets in the room were painted white, but this little space was never given a paint job.  

It was never given a purpose either.

I have come to realize in my vintage years that closets are a lot like people. If they don't have a purpose, they can become a hot mess. Oh, it might look like an orderly mess, but it's a mess nonetheless.

This little nook was taking on jobs that it just wasn't called to handle. For one thing, it was housing dishes. Now folks, this closet is off a bedroom on the second story of the house. Does that sound like a logical place to store dishes? Why no, it doesn't. Yet there they are.

No matter how much a little bedroom nook might want to be a dish cupboard, that's just not what it was designed to be.

So I pulled every single thing out of that confused little closet and  either purged it or moved it. Then, I gave it a clean shade of Heirloom white. 

Better already...

Then, I painted every thing I was bringing into the space the same clean white.  I just think it looks less junky that way.

Then, I gave it a purpose much better suited to it.

You see, my ironing board hangs from the back of that door.  Sorry  Donna Reed, but I like to iron as needed, and I like to do so in the bedroom where the clothes are.  I also like to mend in the bedroom. Unfortunately, my sewing supplies have always lived downstairs.

Near the kitchen. 

You know, where the dishes are supposed to be. 

Isn't this a much better set up?  

No, it's not a whole sewing room, but I'm not a whole seamstress, either. It works for me. I wish I had done it years ago.

Drawers for supplies and fabric. 

A space for everything

Some hooks for mending.

And just for fun, some framed pages of Sew Beautiful magazine.
Miss Whimsy happened to be a model in that issue when she was a baby.

I have a few more finishing touches to go but as you might expect, 

I'm still not finished.

*****

And that's all for me. I have some Baby Cheeks and Sugar Lips to attend to before the day is done.  You see, a certain Man of the House is coming home today. He's been out of town all week enjoying the blessing of  work.  That's right folks, the recent chapter in the Life of Sir Lotsa Hair did indeed end with a new job as many of you suspected. I guess you could say that He has found a whole new purpose too, one perfectly suited to his design.

Siberian Facelift Part Two

If you've been following my Siberian lifestyle lift, 

this is the part where it should all start to make more sense.

There's actually a method to the wackadoo madness and crazy colors. You see, I'm a firm believer that bright colors stimulate creativity.

And I caught a little contagious creativity not long ago in blog land.  

Many of you have probably seen how Ange@The Blooming Hydrangea turned an unused closet in her home into an office space. If you haven't seen it, click HERE. She dubbed it The Cloffice. 

Well, here's my own version of a  re-purposed space.

I'm calling mine The Crathroom.

Part bathroom.

Part craft space.

You see, I don't have a single space around this joint to organize craft and painting supplies. Oh, I had them stored in an orderly fashion, but to a completely right brained person, storing and organizing are two very different animals.

If I have to pull things out of a bin that's stashed on a shelf in a garage or other such space, it's stored. If it is openly displayed and at my fingertips, it's organized. And if it's organized in a climate controlled environment, it's more likely to stay organized. 

My craft and painting supplies were stored,  but they were not organized. They were hidden here and there like munchkins. Every time I wanted to do a project, it was come out come out wherever you are.

Seeing all the great craft spaces in blog land whet my appetite for a fingertip space. Unfortunately, I didn't have a  room to sacrifice for the cause. (And don't even bother suggesting The Practical One's room. It already has a job; it's a shrine.)

This is the space I chose.

It's small, but doable.  There's a sink for washing out brushes and enough counter space to work on small projects.

Or even small pieces of furniture.
See?

I wanted it to function as a craft space, but not lose it's ability to morph back into bathroom if needed. Just because we haven't used that shower in 15 years doesn't mean we never will.

So...

Shoe bags were hung over a tension rod for spray paints and other supplies. Yes, I know that they don't match. This project had to be done without spending a dime, remember. Therefore, I used what I had, and what I had were two more members of the graduating class of 2011.

Three members actually. That little white shelf between them came from her college room too. Please picture it all grown up and twice its size. I'm planning to get a second one to stack on top of it next month. I have a few more things in the garage still waiting for a home.

The rest of it is just collected junque from around the home place and the power of paint. That's because I hoard my remnants and buy random, obscure things at the ReStore.

I had bought that peg board at the Restore in the spring, and we happened to have just enough of that molding to frame it.  I painted it with more of that green paint.

Yes, I know I haven't put anything on it yet.

 I haven't finished organizing the stuff in the cabinets and drawers yet either,

 but I'm showing the room anyway.

 This post is long enough so I'll save something

 for another day.  

That's where Siberia is this morning. Maybe not magazine material,

 but considering where we started...

Plus the fact  that I did it all without spending a dime,

 I'd say it's close enough to perfect for me.

By the way, did anyone notice where I'm storing the extra noodles?

*****

I'll be sharing at Inspiration Friday
'cause I know you're all inspired to go create a
Crathroom now, right?
Right?
Yeah, that's what I was afraid of.

Siberian Facelift Part One

You know how you open a blog with a big, beautiful reveal

 and immediately start ooohing and ahhhhing? 

Yeah, well, this won't be one of those times. 

This little makeover wouldn't be bloggable at all were it not for the fact that I promised to show it, and that it was done without spending a single dime.

Not a single dime, people.

Do you know how hard that is?

Keep that in mind before I open the door.  

Siberia before

And Siberia as of this morning.

Still a work in progress.

If I felt like renaming this room (and I don't), I might choose The Graduate.  That's because nearly everything used in this room is a cast off from the dorm days of The Practical One.

This shower curtain graduated in 2011. 

This part was kind of serendipitous because I had already decoupaged those cabinet pulls when I remembered that curtain.  I had been planning to fashion something together with fabric remnants, but decided to use that one instead.

Nothing like letting a hoarded napkin decide an entire room design...

I like it because not only is it free but it lets me introduce a dozen fun colors into the room. I plan to introduce them all.  I promise that there actually is a method to all this wackadoo madness...

 For shower rings, I just sprayed those old plastic blue ones with white Fusion and then gave them a coat of the same trusty lime as the cabinet pulls. 

Little wooden buttons were painted and glued to the hooks

to dress it up a little. 

The extra cabinet is from the same graduating class as the shower curtain. It was white laminate, but I think it looks better painted heirloom white to blend better with the cabinets. I used Kilz on it first.  I'm not positive that's necessary since my HW has primer in it, but I would rather be safe than sorry when painting cheap laminate.

More green for the knobs.

The ugly brass light fixture got a facelift too.

 I had originally intended to go white with it. (By the way, here's my tip of the day: Hoard burned out light bulbs to use when painting a light fixture.)  But really, I want to replace that fixture completely. That being the case, I didn't think it would hurt for it to go green as well. 

Oh no, she didn't...

Oh yes, I did. 

Wackadoo. 

It's just a cheap brass fixture, people.

Now, I'm sure you noticed that this room is stark and boring and needs some 
accessories to finish it.

Let me explain...

It's not going to get any. 

You see, the room is not only called Siberia because it's cold in there; it's called Siberia because it's extremely remote. Basically, it's the Wonka Land of the home place. Nobody ever goes in, and nobody ever comes out. It just sits there,  hidden from view, a vast wasteland.  

Emphasis on the waste part.

That's why I decided to change its function and give it a job description. Don't you think giving a space a job description just makes it perform better?

Yeah, I think so too.

Unfortunately, this post has already gotten too long so the full  lifestyle lift will have to be a post for another day. Hopefully by Monday.

Here's a little clue....

I need the Man of the Place to help me put up some final things before I'm finished, and he's still out of town.  Poor guy comes home to a honey do list every weekend. Good thing I give myself that Friday facial so he  comes home to sugar lips as well.

And that's the way it is. Friday, July 27, 2012...

A Strip Tease

It's hot here people.

I know... I know...

 It's summertime. 

It has always been this hot. 

Maybe so, but I haven't always been 50. 

It seems to be worse this year than ever. 

I'm thinking of moving to Siberia and becoming a stripper

 until this raging hormone thing is over. 

Since that's probably not a reasonable option,

 I have come up with a different plan instead. 

If you need me, I'll be in Siberia.  

Lovely, isn't it? 

Siberia is a rarely used bathroom in the most remote corner of the house.  Outside of family, no one even knows Siberia exists. That's because I keep the door closed so as to employ the ostrich method of decorating.

What you can't see can't hurt you.

The shower in this room has never been used. We have plenty of others around here. The commode is rarely used either,  and this lovely '80s vanity area? It  has been used for the past decade to store my attempt at an emergency food bank.

In fact, Siberia has become the vast wasteland of the home place, hiding all manner of my schtuff.


Teaching supplies in the shower;
teaching career in the toilet. 

Now folks, please don't think that I'm the one who gave this room a case of the blues. I didn't, at least not intentionally.   If you have read my Big Fat 80s Kitchen story, you might recall that we purchased this house for its size and location, even though it was covered top to bottom with '80s wallpaper. 

Blue and peach '80s wallpaper. 

Really, that was the color scheme of the entire house. 

You'll might also recall that I had done my stripping act all over this joint until I developed a severe case of sheetrockaphobia whilst stripping in the guest bathroom. (Which is not this bathroom.) 

 Sheetrockophobia: The unnatural fear that ugly '80s wallpaper

 has been superglued to bare sheet rock 

and will bring said sheet rock down with it upon removal. 

At that point, I threw up my hands, shut the door, and started pretending that the wallpaper didn't exist. The blue shower liner and towels were remnants of our first home so I just stuck them in there with the rest of the blues. In for a penny; in for a pound. 

But here's the thing:

Not only is this room the most remote corner of the house, it's also the coldest one. That's because it's the first one on the line of our monster air conditioning unit. When the door is closed, which it generally is, the room becomes a freezer. 

Are you following me here?

And so, with a little long distance encouragement from a very practical daughter, I have decided to spend the  rest of No Buy July as a Siberian Stripper.  

Which  is an upgrade from my usual role as Siberian husky. 


 And the best part about it? Stripping wallpaper didn't cost a dime.  In fact, repainting it didn't cost a dime either. I had a nearly full gallon of the yellow from my kitchen just waiting for a home.  

So here's the strip...

And here's the tease...
(The blue curtain will go. I'm just hiding something behind it.)

That's as far as I've gotten, but I have more plans for Siberia by the end of the month.
You see, I'm changing it from a Siberian wasteland
into something much more useful.

And I'm determined to do the entire thing without spending a dime.

Want to guess what it's going to be? 

By the way, just one bit of advice as I close this:
If you're searching google images for a picture to illustrate a blog post,
it's best not to type in the words
STRIP TEASE.

Don't ask me how I know...