Love Seat to LOVE SEAT

It was just a little pew. It's made of Douglas Fir and was originally painted in gray and tan tones. It was actually one of those fabled "front row seats" in a 1900's vintage Baptist church on the West Coast. Its original space was shared in the company of a sanctuary full of longer pew "brothers and sisters." When the church was remodeled the majority of those "family" members became fuel for parishioner's fire places. But this one was small and comparatively portable, so it was happily carted away to become a storied piece in someone's home. After all, what's a self-respecting Baptist piece of furniture to do without a historical pedigree?

But I understand there's a little bit more to this story. Word has it that IF a young couple sat on this pew up front there in the church they were indeed up front, but they were also together all by themselves--sort of an unofficial "in the church" place for love birds to be all alone up front. It worked; it was a well-used church "Love Seat." So, when this little pew was eventually transported to someone's home it went from being an unofficial Love Seat to becoming the homeowner's official "LOVE SEAT." Kind of fun, huh. (The leather and padding has been graciously added!)

An 1880s Love Starved Beauty

This is a gracious Arts & Crafts Era Victorian Lady (Burled Walnut). She will get some special attention in the near future. Pieces like these are far more than heirlooms; they are genuine antiques. She has earned her keep many times over. Her very presence commands respect and all the admiring inquiries she so readily deserves. Like so many other crafted pieces from this era she justifies every once of TLC she can get.

Removing Moisture (or heat) "Rings" From A Lacquered Top

It's frustrating when you put a glass or coffee cup down on a finished surface and later you observe it left a cloudy circle in the finish. It's a cloudy unmistakable ring where the glass or cup of coffee sat on your shiny table top, side board, coffee table, etc. Ugh. Here's a "miraculous" little tip I learned years ago that can make these unwanted signatures go away.

Next time you are at WalMart, your pharmacy, or perhaps a Home Depot (or some similar place) ask for a little bottle containing Spirits of Camphor. (The Camphor is going to soften the lacquered surface of your furniture. The idea here is that you can release the trapped moisture in the lacquer by softening it just enough to allow the moisture to dissolve in the camphor, adhere to the cloth, and escape. You want to apply just enough Camphor to soften the surface--but not so much that you remove it.) So, take your little acquisition home and patiently perform the following little exercise.

1. Get a small piece of cotton cloth. A little piece cut from, for example, an old undershirt will work just fine. You want just enough cloth so you can hold it in your hand and fold it twice--two thicknesses of the cloth--around and between your index and third finger.
2. Standing over the ring you want to remove, pretend your index finger, with the little cloth you have wrapped around it, is a little biplane with pontoons for water landings. The cloth is it's landing gear (the pontoons). Make a practice pass over the table and the ring with your covered finger--do this as if you're a pilot inspecting an anticipated landing site, the ring, in preparation for your next fly-over. You're going to land on one edge of that ring, slide along its curvature for a little distance, and then lift from it again.
   
3. With your next "air approach" drop down so you finger (pontoon) touches on the curvature of the ring. Slide across the ring as far as you can, staying on the ring's curvature with your cloth "pontoon," then quickly lift again from the ring...a probably short but smooth "touch and glide distance..." and then back up (maybe an inch or two slide depending on the size of your ring). Try this several times until you've got a feel for it--a smooth "in-down-slide across- then up and away" movement. Practice it several times.
4. Now when you think you've got the moves, take the lid from your Spirits of Camphor and wet the "pontoon" of your little make believe biplane. The cloth should be wet enough--but not dripping--so you can make a clean damp sweep across the ring's edge. Do this repeatedly landing on one part of the ring, applying just a little pressure, and then back up (8-10 slides without re-wetting). Do this rapidly and repeatedly watching as the ring begins to fade. Be patient and methodical. Continue landing, sliding, and up until that part of the ring completely disappears.
5. Continue this effort gradually moving around the ring until it's all GONE.

What should you expect? Where you removed the ring may take a slightly flatter sheen than the surrounding area. That's not unusual, especially in an older lacquered surface. But that shiny patina is generally a lot less noticeable than the ring you just removed. In newer surfaces, and when the Camphor has completely evaporated, you can often briskly buff the sheen back up with a soft cotton cloth.

Anyway, this little experience is fun...and just a little surprising.

Ready to Be ReUnited

Not a lot to do today. Given Left's impatience to be reunited with Right...there's no loafing goin on in this shop! Clean-up, mostly clean-up has been the name of today's tune. For example, removing a little latex rubber here and there from Left's light, or thickening the poly coat where the weather is most likely to assault the door most fiercely. Now Left can growl (in French of course) right back at it!

Parlez vous Francais? That's it.

Excitement... French Door Style

"That little teeny weeny piece of glass is ready!" were the words that ignited the afternoon. From that point on you were in a friendly dither. Was that French you were prattling? I suspect what I heard translated into something like, "Bless my mullions and styles, it's a great March day for Frenchman." And of course you were right. We soon had the glass in hand prepped to place in the leaded frame. That wasn't a big deal, but cleaning the chase of gluey gunk from the mullion was a bit of a challenge.

But the work really started when we'd replaced the old glue with sealant of our own and set the leaded frame in it within the mullion. The next few hours were tricky. There's a designed relief that runs around the perimeter of the light frame. It permits the trim to slip beneath it. In that way the trim and mullion appear as one piece. So it's difficult to remove the trim initially, but triply challenging to replace it with the new glue line in place. Ugh. Patience and perseverance win the day, plus a healthy supply of super pressure, including some well placed percussive jabs with a mallet, and all without breaking the oak trim or any of the glass pieces cased in the leaded frame!

You laid there still throughout this ordeal. But when we were done you would have jumped into the air, if you had the legs. With the best red oak Frenchisms I believe I heard you say, "Yes, mere hours from seeing Right!" Your absolutely correct. Just a few tidying details.

Are you beautiful or what?

Yes, you've got it. Good looks, a commanding presence, and a "come here and touch me" patina. Today was a good day for you to get out in the sunshine and soak up a little of it's brilliance--and it gave me a chance to give you a good look.

The picture you posed for this morning doesn't do you justice. The camera snappin it (and the bloke capturing it) will never be mistaken for professionals. But their work does communicate to a watching world "it's a finished product." (Ya gotta dodge the shadow of those branches!)

So now you can travel home in style, be reunited with your pedestal base and your chairs, and they're all going to be ogling you. Yup, you and I know that's exactly what we set out to do.

Mission accomplished!
;

Right Is A Success But The Left is Left

Talkin, talkin, talkin. Ya, you've made it clear: Left hates to be separated from the Right. He's there--at Tim and Jenny's--awaiting Left's soon arrival. OK, Left, so calm down and don't get your lower hinge stuck in a jamb!

"So, what are we waiting for," you ask? OK. You probably weren't paying too much attention at the time--probably one of those sedation issues associated with surgery. Right. You probably had about the same challenges structurally as Right. Pullin you apart and finding as I did with Right that you were similarly dismembered discovered pretty much the same stuff. Your center mullion was split into two separate pieces and impregnated with gunky stuff and bad glue, too. A lot of careful cleaning and sanding and proper, careful aligning and gluing "put this Humpty Dumpty together again." The light frame (mullion) was then reunited with the door frame and the sanding of the larger door frame with the mullion in place finally could begin in earnest.

But there was a hitch. I missed telling ya in passing. Carefully pulling the light out of the mullion frame was a different story with you than with Right. I'm going to guess your leaded light was installed right after a mid-week lunch when the craftsman was half asleep. He probably used HALF the tube of latex rubber cement to glue the light in place in the mullion. Ugh. What a mess! And I'm supposed to carefully remove your light! Yup, thanks but no thanks. I worked sweating bullets trying to get your light out...carefully, oh so carefully. Round and round the perimeter. Tug a little here; cut a little there; tug a little more here. Then---SNAP! The unwanted happened. One of the cut-glass leaded-in panes had broken. I hate that!!! But then of course I know you do too.

Finally, with much more persuading the light came free, but the one broken lead glass pane was oh so painfully obvious. Off to the Glass Shop for measurements, estimates, and fabrication....and...and...waiting.

In the meantime the sanding is done. The gluing is done. The staining and matching is done. Oh, you handsome French guy you! Just like Right.

So we're waiting on the little teency piece of cut glass to fit back into your light. Then we can replace it in the mullion, frame it, and do the all the LAST MINUTE THINGS.

Soon I hope--and I know you do too.

Just around the bend...

OK. You're reminding me...as if I needed to be reminded...that your oak veneers, top and skirt, are laminated to a Masonite-type foundation. It's really not a big deal except for the fact that when the finish edge is removed in the stripping and/or sanding process any "looks like grain" goes bye-bye, too.

Looking across your "skinned" top are a lot of "feathers" in the wood grain. They're typically produced in a muscular sanding effort. The combination of feathers and foundation material make for some cooperative investments--by you and me. A little TLC in the final coat (a little creative tickling here and there) along with the buffing process usually does the trick...and walla!

Opening and shutting the table top is a pleasant surprise. My compliments! You've got a "top-O-the-line" mechanism that makes removing and inserting the leaf comparatively easy--you purr like a kitten. I'd like to see that design in every top I work on, certainly wishful thinking on my part...but I can dream a little.

The perimeter's edge is sealed and finished. It makes a visually comfortable transition from the top to the skirt both in form and color. That's a good thing given the near boo boo we experienced earlier in the staining process.

The top has a first coat of polyurethane. Those "feathers" have flattened, for the most part. If we work together we can smooth the bulk of the resistors with the top coat effort tomorrow. Tonight is about curing in a warm shop. We're rounding the bend toward completion.

Tim & Jenny's French Connection

Strong, tall, solid oak, and French. Right and Left Sentries, a team forbidding intruders and weather. But there you both stood in a cold garage with warped pride, tired and so weather weary.

I "heard" you start talking to me from the bed of my truck en route to the shop. "Are we done; is this the end," you asked. "No," I promised, "A new beginning." I can assume you heard me; you said nothing more until we arrived.

Tradition knows you guys work together--one door. But, yes, I separated you to different rooms for just this short time. Hey, stop complaining! It's alright, and you agreed; a temporary and purposeful inconvenience for you two, but all for the best of outcomes.

Right volunteered first. So there you lay heavy across those shop horses. Yes, no door has ever deserved the horizontal more. Tired but determined (and destined) to stand again proudly facing new challenges.

My initial effort focused on your center mullions. Wow, those beautiful lights! The leaded cut- glass you each share provokes, I'm sure, inspiration and conversation from anyone who approaches you. Yes, you deserve to do some boasting. But that glass panel once carefully removed provide opportunity for closer inspection of your handsome central frame....ahaa, badly broken into halves--separate pieces! An insult I'm sure.

But someone had made a feeble attempt to fill the widening crack provoked by weather's hot and cold, wet and then dry, over and over again. Gooey glue and filler of some kind placed in the crack preventing the realignment, as it were, of your soul. Good intentions here, for sure, but ugh....lots of gunk...and, I suspect, a blow to any self-respecting French guys!

Jim & Kathi's Pedestal Dining Table

We carried you into the shop last Saturday morning. I know you must have felt a little awkward in that moment...introductions and all that stuff. You had no legs; your pedestal got left behind with the chairs that grace your skirt! So it was your handsome round top, including your generous 24 inch leaf.

Yah, I understand. No self-respecting middle aged dining table want's to be out and about without make-up! That was hastily brought for you in a plastic bag. Jim explained how your finished surfaces had been skinned, your naked wood exposed, in preparation for an extensive facial. (Yes, I know it was a cold morning's drive to the shop...sorry about that; from a warm basement, a project shelved, hastily carried up and outside, but kindly transported here for completion.)

I concede; you weren't in your best form. But hey, don't be bashful! It's OK. FYI, last month we proudly and compassionately resurrected a vintage early 1900's rocking chair. It's handsome features had been repeatedly painted through many years before it fell into disuse. In fact it escaped a house fire once! Nevertheless, eventually pulled apart and stuffed into an apple box it waited 40 years! It suffered some indignities, too, but hubba, hubba, you should see it now. So take heart!

What's that you say? OK, you're right. We almost made a boo booh. That bag of cosmetic stain we carried in was way too dark for your delicate features. So although you're covered with tape and newsprint now (--you don't want that over spray where the sun's gonna shine! --) you're already fetching your share of compliments!

I know you've got a lot more to say, but let's save our shared experiences for next time.