Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits

I thought I would share another piece of furniture that is sharing space in the dining room with our new dining room furniture.  

This piece came from my childhood home, which we recently bought (more on that later).  In that house, it sat in our very tiny vestibule as soon as you entered.  It became a haven for keys, mail and various other random things thrown down there.  You can tell this by how much the main part is dinged up.  While my parents were cleaning out the house, they discovered they really did not have room for this, but my Mom did not want to get rid of it. I generously offered to store it for her. Aren't I so sweet?*

I seem to recall my Dad telling me this was an old barber shop piece. The little knob below the mirror, opens up a folding down type storage area. There is a drawer underneath the main part and then a cupboard at the bottom. I would envision this in an old time barbershop with a strap to sharpen the razors hanging on the side.

The title comes from another little Dad-ism.  My Dad always had a unique knock. When we asked him about it, he said it was based on the singsong phrase, "Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits."  I always thought that this was based on old time barber shop prices. Apparently, it is recently based in music and is a common riff at the end of a musical performance for comedic relief.  I later found out my Dad was a drummer. It all started coming together then.

Also, two bits is equal to a quarter.

I need a shave!

The more you know.
   




*I may not give it back :)

Can I Interest You in a Little Fine Dining or at Least the Furniture to Do So?

Remember back in May when I informed you I lost my dining room set when B took my offhand comment super seriously? Well, just as I thought we would never have a place to store our once a year dishes and platters, it was B to the rescue once again.

As this set is so amazing, I have almost forgiven B for forcing me to relocate things into our way too small kitchen.  Almost.  This is Jacobian furniture which, from what I understand from GTS*, is the form furniture took during the Renaissance in England. Yes, our furniture is THAT old. Or based on ideas that old. Whatever.

This picture doesn't do the size justice, but B informed me that he didn't want to take a straight
on picture because then he would be in it through the mirror. So camera shy, that one.

This is our buffet. B may or may not have broke it immediately upon trying to move it.
It has super heavy drawers and is awesome.

This is the china cabinet.  It is also awesome and now holds all of our glasses.  It also is a haven for cats trying to escape dogs.  

You can see the carved detail in the chair and buffet. This is my favorite shot.
Good job B!

Closer shot of the cabinet.

Up close to the buffet.

This set is ever way huger than it looks because there is a leaf. And by a leaf I mean the top of the table lifts up and goes between two extenders. The whole top of the table is a leaf. One day I am going to make B do that again and put all of the chairs we got with it to show you just how regal this set really looks.

I actually like the table with all 6 chairs around it, but it makes it kind of crowded and one chair may or may not be in the midst of repair as well.  

We got this set for a very reasonable price.  Thereafter, my friend whom I stole the trash chair from got a very similar site at an even better price. I might hate her now. The jury is still out on that one.

Also, you will notice the glass on top of every piece. The set did not come like that. B brilliantly stole the idea from our neighbor. With three cats with three sets of back claws and the never ending desire to launch off of our furniture with said claws, the furniture is grateful for B's idea, as am I.

It's the little things.

   




*Google That Shit, or in this case, Googling That Shit

I Chair You to Say This Doesn't Look Better

It has been forever since we got the chair that came with out house upholstered, but I am finally getting around to the grand unveiling.

Thankfully, I got my local photographer a/k/a B on the job. He took many wonderful photos of all of the furniture I am supposed to catch you up on here.  You can thank him for the next couple of posts.

Let's start with The Chair. Remember The Chair? The one the former owners left behind that was all chewed up and ugly? The one I said had good bones?  Here is a picture of it in its original state to refresh your recollection:

Good lines. All chewed up.

Look at it now in its magnificent glory:

Good lines. Gorgeous fabric. So pretty.

The people that upholstered it, fell in love with as did I.  I think this was a wise piece to keep. Now, you can even sit in it without thinking your ribs will be cut by an arm.

Ooohh...

Ahhh....

Posting these pictures makes me excited to get the other New Chair going. I will have to get B on that!

 

Does the Shrieking Sound Alarm You? It Should.

It was a normal day at the office. I was busy impressing a client with some antiquated legal jargon when I heard the distinct sound of the office fire alarm.  I very calmly said "Client, I will have to call you back. The office is on fire."  

I then picked up my cell phone, my car keys and my purse and walked right out of the office.  You know who did not follow me? Oh, everyone else.  They all insisted it was a false alarm.  No one called to say it was a false alarm.  No one turned off the shrieking sounds.  So I headed out the door.  When questioned at the front door if I was "really" going, I replied:

"I am not burning in this hell hole, bitches. Peace out!"

I am so professional.  

The real question is, did they forget the great fire of March 2011. I sure didn't. One electrical fire, one freezing my ass off in the parking lot while waiting to see if we were ever getting back in was enough.  So what did I do?

Went outside in the rain with an umbrella freezing my ass off while waiting to see if we would ever get back in.

Despite the five police cars and one huge fire engine, it turns out it was a false alarm. Someone allegedly sprayed something at the sensor. What? I don't even know where the sensors are and aren't they only supposed to sense SMOKE? So confusing. I suspect it was the place that employs the hackysackers.  It just has to be.

In other news, an attorney stayed behind because she wanted to finish a brief.  I told her I would put that on her gravestone.  "Will burn for work."

Then I called my client back.