The Humble Beginning
So we’re adulting with all of our might inside a quaint little apartment in burbtown USA. Aka racial homogeneity land (the worst). Aka Neo Pleasantville pre disruption from Witherspoon.
Insert an unhealthy dose of HGTV and our renovation confidence meter instantly peaked and exploded, and we’re ready to flip (probably flop) the “worst house in the best neighborhood.” Totally rational. With this must HGTV watching under our belts, we’re practically a property investment firm at this point.
Scene change and get a close-up view of me (Austin) using a drill to screw something into the apartment wall. With overwhelming landlord approval I might add. Attempt #1. Screw head stripped. Does this thing go backwards? I think so. Attempt #2. Commence trigger-pull at full blast. Screw #2 will most definitely respond to more power, not alignment or pulsing (thank you pubescent testosterone levels providing mental clarity). Screw immediately bypasses the drywall and permanently inserts into stud until The New Jerusalem. Attempt #3. After sleeping off my frustration at the negligent wall, naively proceed to hang 10 oz picture frame with screw #3 into drywall only (I knocked on the wall to make sure vertical wood pieces are in there somewhere so I think we’re gravy). Hang picture. Fast forward to me adjusting picture to visually level it out. Picture exceeds gravity and dies in a pile of regret on the floor.
Okay. So that was 3% hyperbole, but you figuratively get the picture. My drill wielding skills were that of a toddler (generous estimate), and my angry submasculine grunts provided free entertainment for Babe (Liz). A reno (used quite softly here) hiatus was my strategic next move. Boo will take it from here.
Boo Champions all the Furniture
Darlin’ decides (dramatically understated) she’s going to refinish a few pieces of furniture. Thrifts a dingy radio cabinet, snags an old & unused pie table from the Whimsy of Singsonger Lane (my mom), and inherits a bright orange loveseat from her spitfire great-grandmother (Liz is not like her at all). Each item receives a complete makeover on our sizeable one-human porch. Was it messy? Nah. It was functional. Blue paint makes the wood deck look better anyway.
Check out our (I did zero) first ever piece of refinished furniture! The perfect little coffee bar. Proud of that gal. Couldn’t have done it with me.
The Radio Cabinet to Coffee Bar
After almost 5 years of brewing craft coffee on this repurposed radio cabinet, it needed a touch-up. Bae (she adores this nickname) takes the antique to the wood shop (garage) and dominates it with our orbital sander. Then a can of paint thinner. And more sanding. Insert beautiful shade of blue I didn’t know existed. Psst… don’t tell my wife I called it “blue.”
The Pie Table
The pie table? Here she is. In all of her periwinkle pomp. Well, I think it’s periwinkle, but in my decades of being a bloke I’ve discovered that dudes have a knack for being colordumb. We’ll call it a lovely shade of purp.
The Painted Loveseat
The bright orange granny-pwning-noobs loveseat? ElizaBae painted it. With actual paint. Unfurrow your brow and give one of these bad boys a shot. Side note for all you XYs out there: green no longer exists. All popular usages of green are now called “blue.” Well, kelly and forest still exist, but our color palette doesn’t allow for such bold expressions of masculinity and earth-tree.
Smooth Landing
Moral of the story. Binge watch Home & Garden shows until your do-crap zeal exceeds your fear of breaking things, and have at it.
Now it’s 6 years later. We accidentally slow-flipped our first home, completely redid our second home’s kitchen ourselves, handcrafted a ton of furniture and fearfully broke a lot of stuff along the way. Keep an eye out for more unembellished posts about our journey to sucking less at renovating familial appurtenances (way-to land the plane in a literary desert, Austin).
