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Two Days, 1,200 Miles, One Citation, and Six Heywood Wakefield Chairs – Dining Room Transformation Mission Accomplished!

03 Thursday Sep 2015

Posted by opidells in Pickin' and a Grinnin' - Chad's Rants from the Road

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amish, antiques, auctions, collecting, heywood wakefield, starburst, travel

A lot has happened since my last blog, and this weekend provided the solitude for reflecting on what to include in this update.  We were heading to Pennsylvania for a turn-and-burn pickup of some more 50’s artifacts in the form of Jill’s favorite sexy blondes (Heywood Wakefield furniture) .  I would have plenty of time to ponder changes in the preceding months and how that affected Opidell’s, our home and me.  I needed the hum of the road to lull me to my Zen place, allowing me to sort out such things like the death of the Big Suburban, Jill’s obsession with mid-mod, and the addition of our new-found family friends Heywood and Wakefield.  Lots of things to sort out and lots of miles in which to do it.

We left Lexington at twelve bells, right on time (for once) and aimed the mini-Suburban east, small box trailer in tow.  You see, faithful readers, tragedy has recently descended upon the Walker Hacienda.  The Big Suburban, which has been battling a lifelong illness, due to a less than optimal performing 2007 engine, has taken ill.  The ’07 model has been reported as problematic across internet forums, and although it has performed countless times in the past, the constant addition of oil with no much as a spot on the driveway finally took its toll.  In case you are wondering, the Big ‘Bourbon is resting peacefully in the garage out of the weather.  A constant oil IV is keeping him comfortable, and a battery trickle charger is keeping its spirits up.  I treated him to a full detail last weekend while the weather was warm, but unfortunately, it’s just a matter of time.  On mechanic’s orders, he’s not being driven other than a few miles at a time in hopes of returning his oil pressure back to tolerable levels.  Likely he will be escorted to a dealer retirement home to live out his days in the care of a certified mechanic.  Time will tell.  I have spent 170,000 miles and countless hours with the big beast.  He drove all over this country and never bucked no matter how heavily loaded he was with furniture, hay, bricks and whatever needed to be hauled.

So the weekend traveling landed solely on the shoulders of the mini-Suburban, Jill’s Toyota Highlander. Although a bit more cramped, a little less outfitted and only two wheel drive, the little-Highlander-that-could would be tested this weekend with snowstorms, West Virginia Mountains, limited gas stations and my lead foot. Plus, she had to haul a trailer which added stress to the “There Can Only Be One” Highlander.

The lil’Toyota eased onto the interstate, Jill set the GPS and I stomped the accelerator achieving light speed almost immediately.  Our new pickin’ machine was off to a good start.  The weather forecast was cold but clear all the way to West Virginia.  Our final destination was near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, a little town just shy of Philly.  The reason for the trip was to pick-up a set of Champagne finished Heywood Wakefield dining chairs and to attend an auction that featured some Hey Wake.    Why drive all the way to Pennsylvania for chairs?  Well, just after Christmas Jill acquired a HW table and buffet set at a consignment shop near Chicago.  For you faithful readers you know Jill is partial to the wheat tinted Hey Wake, however this perfect condition original finish Champagne set caught her eye.  In turn, it spawned an entire mission to refinish our former “sittin’ room” into a formal dining room, complete with atomic dishes and blue and pink handled silverware. The only thing missing was the chairs.  So why not just ship the chairs? Yea, yea…I’m getting to that.

One of Jill’s occasional HW sources was a gentleman in Pennsylvania.  She contacted him.  They haggled.  And after many sleepless nights of pacing and self-loathing, she bought the chairs.  I would have paid twice as much for the items since it kept me from endless winter evenings in my non-heated garage refinishing chairs she already had acquired.  After the payment for the chairs were received, Jill arranged for a shipping company to fetch them for us.  Therein lies the problem.  The shipping company, after taking payment, suddenly and inexplicably went out of business.  Apparently the owner made off with funds with many people’s items stranded in transit scattered across the country.  Fortunately, Jill’s chairs were just marooned in Amish country, so that’s where we headed.

Here was the self-inflicted problem with the weekend.  We left at noon and had to arrive at 8:00pm to retrieve the chairs.  For those of you keeping score at home, that’s an eight hour trip and we had, well, eight hours to arrive.  Then we had to load, find a place to sleep and be rested for the next day.  The tomorrow would be equally hectic.  We would drive from Lancaster to New Philadelphia, Ohio to arrive at an auction beginning at 11:00 am.  Then depart that auction and drive the remaining four hours home to Lexington.  Quite the marathon weekend and it all had to be timed just right or we could lose out on the chair retrieval or miss the auction.

The lil’ Toyota eased onto the interstate, Jill set the GPS and I stomped the accelerator achieving light speed almost immediately.  Our new pickin’ machine was off to a good start.  The weather forecast was cold but clear all the way to West Virginia.  Our final destination was near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, a little town just shy of Philly.  The reason for the trip was to pick-up a set of Champagne finished Heywood Wakefield dining chairs and to attend an auction that featured some Hey Wake.    Why drive all the way to Pennsylvania for chairs?  Well, just after Christmas Jill acquired a HW table and buffet set at a consignment shop near Chicago.  For you faithful readers you know Jill is partial to the wheat tinted Hey Wake, however this perfect condition original finish Champagne set caught her eye.  In turn, it spawned an entire mission to refinish our former “sittin’ room” into a formal dining room, complete with atomic dishes and blue and pink handled silverware. The only thing missing was the chairs.  So why not just ship the chairs? Yea, yea…I’m getting to that.

One of Jill’s occasional HW sources was a gentleman in Pennsylvania.  She contacted him.  They haggled.  And after many sleepless nights of pacing and self-loathing, she bought the chairs.  I would have paid twice as much for the items since it kept me from endless winter evenings in my non-heated garage refinishing chairs she already had acquired.  After the payment for the chairs were received, Jill arranged for a shipping company to fetch them for us.  Therein lies the problem.  The shipping company, after taking payment, suddenly and inexplicably went out of business.  Apparently the owner made off with funds with many people’s items stranded in transit scattered across the country.  Fortunately, Jill’s chairs were just marooned in Amish country, so that’s where we headed.

Here was the self-inflicted problem with the weekend.  We left at noon and had to arrive at 8:00 pm to retrieve the chairs.  For those of you keeping score at home, that’s an eight hour trip and we had, well, eight hours to arrive.  Then we had to load, find a place to sleep and be rested for the next day.  The tomorrow would be equally hectic.  We would drive from Lancaster to New Philadelphia, Ohio to arrive at an auction beginning at 11:00 am.  Then depart that auction and drive the remaining four hours home to Lexington.  Quite the marathon weekend and it all had to be timed just right or we could lose out on the chair retrieval or miss the auction.

Back at the helm of the Highlander, she was trudging along.  The steep hills after Charleston, West Virginia gave the ol’gal some trouble.  She handled it, but not without returning to the previous gear time and time again trying to fight the trailer and gravity.  Even with the overdrive off, her constant shifting bucking against my need for a constant high reading on the speedometer caused Jill to look from her reading material to consult the going-ons.   Then the sleet came.  Little hard pellets of precipitation belted the windshield.  It slowed traffic although the track was still fast.  I kept up my speed with a cautious grip on the steering wheel.  Jill buried her head in more reading material, like an ostrich in the sand.  I could hear her mind above the pellets on the glass: “Go to your happy place.  Go to your happy place. Not much longer on the road.  He knows what he’s doing.  Go to your happy place.”

As we crested the mountain overlooking Cumberland, Maryland, my co-pilot yelled, “Look at that traffic.  Take the exit!”  Evasive maneuvers landed me on a parallel track to the off-ramp, much to the surprise of the cars trailing me.  The upcoming hillside was littered with all manners of blinking lights, signaling an accident.  Thanks to my co-pilots sharp eyes and a reckless regard for my fellow motorists, we took the exit and detoured around traffic.  Problem was, with every additional fuel stop and unscheduled route change, our arrival was becoming delayed.  Time to make up some, well, time.

Now back on the interstate, I decided to do some time traveling.  I eased the gas pedal closer to the floor as the speedometer climbed.  In case you are wondering, I’ll tell you a little trick.  In Kentucky, the speed limit on most interstates is seventy miles-per-hour.  Here’s the fun part.  If you are going ten miles-per-hour or less over the speed limit on a limited access highway, interstates (or pretty much any “limited highway” with on and off ramps) then there’s no points off your license if you get a ticket.  The general consensus of law enforcement is that there’s no reason to pull over a motorist for a “no-points” speed violation.  Other than the fine, there’s basically no incentive to issue a citation.  So, I set my cruise control at 80.  The first problem with the above-mentioned scenario is that the speed limit in Maryland is 65. The second problem is that, when you are towing a trailer with a smaller vehicle it can “push” you down the mountain.

Needless to say, I saw the cop too late.  I passed him, trying to drive casual, even singing “la-la-la” as I rocketed by. He was already pulling out, lights blazing the night sky.  Fortunately from the passenger seat I could hear a lecture series while I searched for inappropriate place to stop.  The dissertation continued until the no-nonsense officer leaned in, sternly requesting “license and registration.”  I had both presented before the last “shun” syllable left his lips.  It had been years since I had been pulled over, but, like riding a bike, you never forget. Since I was well practiced in receiving moving citations, it was like seeing an old friend I haven’t seen in a while.  Some things are nice if for no other reason than being familiar.

“You know how fast you were going?”

Ah, it was coming back to me.    “No sir.”

“83 in a 65.”

Shit, I’m out of practice.  “Oh!”

“Where you heading?”

“Huh?” He was on my 50% deaf, left ear side.

“Where you headin’?”

“Oh, up to Lititz,” Ha, ha, I said “tit” to a cop, “To buy some furniture.” Figured I would attempt to garner some pity from a fellow man.

“From Kentucky going to Lititz to buy furniture?”

I could almost hear him thinking… “Good Lord Son, we will give you police escort out of Maryland you poor bastard.”

“Stay right here, I’ll be back.”  He left.  The sermon was now replaced with a staring contest, of which I was losing.

“How much will this cost dummy?”  My supportive and understanding bride questioned.  My mind took over:  tell her less than the damn chairs you’re driving eight hours each direction to get!  No, don’t say that.  Just sit there and look dumb.  Good job…that came easy. I was contemplating my retort when the officer returned.

“All right son, I’m just giving you a warning.  Just keep your speed under control.”

WHAT!  REALLY!  “Oh, thank you sir.  I really appreciate that.”

“Ok, drive safe.”  He began to walk off when my overzealous co-pilot interjected.

“We are from Kentucky!”

What the hell is she doing?  We’re free damnit!

“The speed limit there is 70.” She belted out.

The trooper was halfway to his car when he heard the conversation aimed at him, turned on his heels and stopped in an inquisitive, “you talking to me punk” stance.  I motioned him off and waved and rejoined traffic, into obscurity.    The biggest shit-eating grin creeped up on my face.  Jill just shook her head and giggled.

“You are so lucky it’s ridiculous.”

Despite the additional fuel stops, back road detours and run-in with the law, we arrived in Lancaster just a few minutes after eight.  Immediately we noticed slow moving flashing boxes jamming every corner of the highway.  Amish.  We were in Amish-land.  In virtual harmony we looked at each other and mused aloud, “Is this guy Amish?  What if this guy IS Amish?

“Hell Jill, I can’t talk to him.  What would I say?  I mean, I curse sometimes…is he going to smite me?  I know, I know…I’ll ask who won the annual Abe Lincoln look-alike contest.  That should be a good conversation starter.”  Jill rolled her eyes at my angst.  Being in the presence of anyone so convinced of their purpose in life is intimidating. I’m too much a pluralist and a genuine smart-ass not to have questions, legitimate on not.

He wasn’t Amish, fortunately for both of us.  Our Heywood Wakefield Pennsylvania-connection was a pleasant fellow with a huge shop.  I remembered him from his eBay postings; he always posed his pet Collie with the pieces offered for sale.  We soon found out the business mascot and friend had passed away last year.  As a dog owner myself, I felt sad for his former master.  That pup was an iconic fixture in the mid-mod collecting community, more famous than I could ever hope to be.      Then the snow came.  The sky had been laboring to produce solid precipitation the majority of the journey, as we skirted in and out along the storm’s edge.  But now the havens opened and rained down huge fluffy flakes Forrest Gump would surely describe as “big ole fat snow.”

We headed toward our lodging.    Along the way we passed a hotel that had been built to resemble a steamboat, several music venues and an amateur wrestling arena.  Lancaster had obviously embraced the simple culture influence of its Amish neighbors.  On the edge of town, one sign summed up the duality of the town:  “Amish Stuff for Sale.  Lots of people sell stuff, but this stuff is Amish.”  Funny.

Our lodging for the evening was reserved at the Cork Factory Hotel.  The Cork was a good example of reuse of an old dilapidated property and turning it into something cool and viable. Revitalization at its finest.  The entry was nice.  The lobby was nice.

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Comfy haven for four hours of sleep…

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Cork Factory Hotel

But upon exiting the elevator onto the third floor, we both became oddly dizzy.  I can only assume that the hotel did not utilize its Amish craftsmen neighbors since the entire place was out of plum.  The floors were woozy, the walls crooked as a politician and signs were completely cattywhompus.  The combination of all the odd angles caused us both to grab the walls like we were on day three of a four day bender.    We dropped our bags inside and headed to the restaurant downstairs.  It was a nice place with good food.  Jill had a hanger steak and I went for the chicken with plum Marsala.  The setup was cozy and the staff was helpful without being intrusive.  I wish I could write more concerning the meal, but after nine plus hours on the road running full out, things sort of ran together.  The first beer was good.  So was the second. But ahhh, the third beer.  The third beer was truly divine.

We returned to the room and opened the window.  The heat had been set at a tropical 75, so the open window provided a nice cool breeze.  The air was crisp and still with only the faint murmur of millions of tiny snowflakes passing through it and landing softly on the ground below.  I looked at the clock.  It was nearing midnight.  Now for those of you keeping score at home, we had five hours to drive in the morning to New Philadelphia, Ohio.  In order to arrive in enough time to preview the items, we would need to leave at 5:00 am to arrive by 11:00 am. The unexpected variable to the trip was the snow.  The forecast predicted it would continue throughout the am hours until the mid-morning.  We calculated and debated. Then it was agreed…we would set the alarms for 4:15 am in order to be on the road by 5:00 am at the absolute latest.  That would allow for a little over four hours sleep.  Ugh.

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The snow began to fall…

We crawled into comfortable the bed.  The rustic sounds of old creaking timbers from the room overhead became downright annoying with such limited time to sleep.  I cursed the fate of our upstairs neighbor as I finally entered a heavy slumber.    Four a.m. came much too early, as it typically does. I continued the previous evening’s cursing of our upstairs neighbor.  I cursed Jill.  I cursed Heywood and Wakefield and I cursed myself.  I scurried to the bathroom to stare in the mirror and beg Mr. Hyde to return his body to the good doctor.  After banging around the room until the cursing subsided, I donned my clothes, awoke Jill and headed toward the truck.  We departed on time again!  Two-for-two; our personal best.

It was still snowing.  Heavy snow.  The kind of snow that ruins visibility streaking the black of night. The eyes cannot focus past the big fluffy particles just over the hood.  It looks like the bridge on the U.S.S. Enterprise after entering warp speed. Promise came in the form of a pair of golden arches just over the horizon.  We would refuel with some much needed greasy treats and caffeine.  But the promise was short-lived as that particular McDonalds was the slowest on the planet.  It was truly amazing the complete ambivalence exhibited by its employees who casually took our orders then went about whatever mundane business in which they were previously engaged, finally to remember that people were staring at them for some reason.  Only then would they return to see what was taking so long.  I wondered if they hired Amish to work the drive thru.  That would be the only explanation as to the aversion for electronic devices or speedy food.

After two corrections in our meal, we left bizarre-o McDonalds, middle finger extended at full mast.    Thanks to our time-challenged friends, we left the pit-stop behind the pace car.  In this case, the pace car was a slow moving snow plow that blocked both lanes of the highway.  We took the left position while a UPS truck was on the high side.  I wondered if a relative of a McDonald’s employee worked the snowplow as well.    After battling the elements the majority of the trip, we burst thru the clouds about half-past-nine.  Smooth sailing from here on out.  I floored the pedal, confident we would not cross paths with the Maryland trooper as we were taking an alternate route thru Ohio.

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High-tailing it through the snow!

We arrived in New Philly with approximately half-an-hour to spare, plenty of time for Jill to inspect the furniture while I reveled in my groundbreaking time.  That poor Highlander will never be the same.    The auction went smooth.  The house, a beautiful ranch style home on a corner lot, sold first.  I wandered around outside while Jill put on her game face.  I was just happy to stretch my legs for a bit.  I wandered around the neighborhood for a spell.  New Philly may have not invented mid-century modern, but it had a great collection of it.  Nearly every other house was a striking atomic ranch, all retro, all unique and all preserved.  I would love to take a tour inside some of these old museums of shag carpet, wall clocks and ugly lamps.    Even though the auctioneer was inside, he left his remote mic on, which relayed outside.  It was like listening to a basketball game on the radio.  He was the play-by-play guy and I sat huddled in the cold listening for Jill’s bid number.

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The house sells for around $115K

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There was a real cool bar with knotty pine walls in the basement. Good times were surely had here!

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The living room was classic mid century, ugly lamps, fiberglass drapes and all!

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This HW buffet sold for around $200. A good price, but Jill already had one, so she passed.

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There were two of these corner cabinets, each selling for around $600. Too much for us!

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But she did score two bookcases that we later realized weren’t even HW, but they looked the part and were worth the $60 she paid for them.

“An-a-forty-five…no fifty…now fifty five…now sixty.  Anymore?  All in, all done?  Sold to number seventy-three.  Seventy three.”  That’s Jill’s number!  She won.  Atta girl, show then New Philly boys who’s boss.    After winning the few select items she wanted, Jill paid and I loaded.  Total time at the auction was about an hour, yet another record for the weekend.  The precious chairs were carefully stacked, two by two, in the back of the Highlander while the bookcases and chairs were arranged in the covered trailer.  I wrapped them, but not especially well since they would undergo a refinishing before being allowed to consort with the other Hey Wake pieces.

Our post-auction feast is traditionally Mexican food, and this outing was no different.  The El San Jose would be our spot to dine, tell tales, and gather ourselves before heading south.  They knew we were coming as their sign read, “Fiesta Time.”  Damn right fiesta time, San Jose.   I don’t know, it made me laugh and that’s all that matters.    Queso dip, a Margarita for Jill and a Dos Equis for me, we toasted our successful trip.  We made our deadlines, miraculously, and arrived at all our destinations in one piece.  Jill was getting better at navigating.  She was also becoming more in tune to my ridiculous pilot to co-pilot requests.  I was constantly having her look-up obscure things that pop in my head.  But she tolerated it with grace, at least most of the time.

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Fiesta Time!!!

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Poor headless Burro!

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The artwork was breath taking 🙂

We headed south.  We made a quick stop in Columbus to Jill could browse Flower Child, her favorite shop in that city.  We would also swing in our favorite wine shop, across the bridge from Cincinnati and barely into Kentucky, and select a bottle for the debriefing at home.  Total mileage for the trip was just over 1,200 miles.  Total time behind the wheel would top seventeen hours.  And total sleep in the past twenty-four hours was under four hours.  But I would change that soon.

Back at home, our driveway was still covered with snow, a result of the winter storm we were barely missed on Friday.  I quickly went to work.  I unloaded our suitcases, tossed leftover Mexi in the fridge, opened the wine and unloaded Jill’s coveted chairs.  She placed them around her matching Champagne colored table, the missing pieces that completed her formal dining room renovation.

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Mission accomplished! The dining room is complete!

It looked lovely.  She promised me a hero’s breakfast in the morning, to be served on her new table and presented on her atomic plates.  I puffed my chest and sipped my beverage to a mission accomplished.  To the victor go the spoils…but not until after I get some sleep.  Good night world. Mr. Heywood and Mr. Wakefield, she’s yours tonight boys.

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A much-deserved Hero’s Breakfast, and cup of coffee, for my efforts.

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Heywood Wakefield Office Transformation

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Posted by opidells in Uncategorized, Using Vintage in the Home

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1950's, antiques, antiques yard sales, auctions, fiberglass curtains, heywood wakefield, office

I spend a lot of time in my home office.  Here, I sell vintage items online, research auctions and estate sales, pay bills and file papers, print shipping labels and package shipments, and obsessively search Craigslist ads for dish patterns I collect, a 1950’s GE ‘Wonder Kitchen’, and used Heywood Wakefield blonde modern furniture.

Here are a few pictures of what the office looked like.  I took these pics right before demolishing the cabinets, thus the sparseness…

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1990’s Pre-Fab cabinets and counter tops…yuck!

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This old shelf was great to store shipping supplies and the counter top was a nice place to prep shipments, but it had to go. I transferred it to the basement laundry room where I fold clothes on it and store large bulky blankets in the shelves.

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Yes, we had a chalkboard wall, which my toddler nieces loved, as you can see, but it created a lot of dust and never, ever seemed clean, no matter what I washed it with. (Yes, that is Chaddy Daddy’s autographed picture of Unknown Hinson on the back of the office door.  This pic made my niece cry, so it had to go too :)).

So, with Chaddy Daddy’s help, the demolition began.  We removed the pre-fab cabinets, skimmed the walls, painted, and had the tile professionally cleaned.  Thank you Stanley Steemer!  Next, we moved in the Heywood Wakefield furniture….

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My new / old desk was won at an auction in Warsaw, KY. It is a knee hole desk in Wheat with the original glass covering the top, so this beauty was pristine despite her age.  The china hutch that was once in the sitting room now serves as a cabinet for files and holds office supplies.

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The two lower left hand drawers are really one large filing cabinet.

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…and the top drawer extends the length of the entire desk and can hold it all!

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She’s happy to be my secretary. She even looks like she’s smiling 🙂

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This Hey-Wake side table is space-age cool! I hide my laptop in its cubby for storage and charging.

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The little Hey-Wake record cabinet holds magazines and books, just like it did when it was in our sitting room.

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I found these “new old stock” fiberglass children’s curtains on eBay and fell in love with them. They matched the wall paint well and made me happy. Plus, I figured the nieces would like them as well with the adorable baby animals – monkeys fishing, duckies boating, and lots of others hanging out of an ark!

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sitting room

This is the old sitting room currently in transition back to a formal Heywood Wakefield dining room. The china hutch and record cabinet have been moved to the office for new purpose.



Columbus, Ohio Pickin’ Trip Part Three – Andre the Giant and Auction Time!

12 Friday Apr 2013

Posted by opidells in Pickin' and a Grinnin' - Chad's Rants from the Road

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andre the giant, antiques, auction, heywood wakefield, picking, sunday

Part Three

My prayers of completely bypassing winter for warmer days of Spring went unanswered. The whiteness illuminating from the reflecting snow outside crept into our room far too early considering our diligent tour of as many of the city’s sights, sounds and tastes as palatable in a single evening. We slowly began gathering our things, resembling a pair of zombies searching for their morning “Brrraaaaiiinnnnsssss.” Grunts and moans were all we used to communicate while the antidote for our sickness in the form of thin hotel room coffee brewed atop the cabinet. Showered, shaved and ready to meet the world, although we were not fully awake, the cold Ohio air would soon remedy that.

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Breakfast was one of the best I have had in many days. Grumpiness soon began to lift, no match for freshly brewed coffee, eggs, turkey sausage and a big stack of buckwheat pancakes with organic syrup and fruit. Usually I opt out of the fruit-on-pancakes option fearing healthy food would throw off my delicate balance permanently. But the combination was wonderful. I emailed myself a note to learn how to make buckwheat pancakes. Jill, sensing our trendy surroundings, and gazing at me head first in my portable device, said, “You’re such a yuppie. You know you fit right in.” I would argue, but with coffee in one hand and an iPhone in the other, I looked like the plus sized poster boy for Apple.

Plump and happy, our final stop was on the horizon. Jill had found a sale where some elusive Heywood Wakefield pieces would be on the block. Given their rarity in these parts, we had to go wade in to see if we had even a grim chance of acquiring a couple of pieces. We were once again venturing into uncharted territory. Sunday auctions are infamous for commanding larger prices, at least in our experience. That coupled with heavy advertising, and our chances were slim.

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(We think this was Ursula from the Little mermaid as a brunette...)

(We think this was Ursula from the Little mermaid as a brunette…)

The auction was held in a large warehouse on the outskirts of town. We parked and headed in amongst trucks with trailers, trucks with campers and several box trucks lettered with their companies names. Not a good sign. Neither was the scene inside. The place was packed. I mean packed. I actually had a concern that if we were able to bid, the chances the auctioneer could see us amongst that sea of people was slim. The auction crowd filed in while I observed them, totally unaware of my secretive judgments. Townsfolk laughed and joked with each other, kidding that they didn’t even bring money to the auction today, just wanted to get out of the house. Others downplayed their interest in a particular item they happened to be examining or hovering above for the better part of an hour.

Low bid numbers lingered. High bid numbers feverishly searched for particular items they had on their checklist. I sat back an watched the floor come alive with bidders and gawkers alike. The items sat in their prospective spots, shiny and proud, awaiting their appearance on the grand auction stage. A half-hour before the auction began, the auctioneer began piping in twangy old country music thru static filled speakers. Since my location was not in some dive bar way too early reflecting on my misreable life, I did not need the accompanying soundtrack. Especially not at a packed auction house on a Sunday morning.

Sounds of Conway Twitty’s “Play Guitar Play” filled the room, along with laughter and unwinding tape measures. Note to self…bring ear plugs to the next auction. I watched as an old farmer inspected a beautiful nude painting well beyond a comfortable time period. I’m talking, closer to five minutes, inspecting only one particular area of the painting. It was a site to beyhold, though it seemed everyone was straining not to see this particular site. I recall jotting down several notes to remember to write about the experience: John Deere hat, farmer long stare, over-the-shoulder exposed boob. Think that about sums it up.

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Lingering a little too long in front of the topless art…

The auctioneer was friendly and full of energy. He started with the standard terms and conditions of the sale, buyers premium, pick-up and obligatory praises aimed at the snack bar located in the back, although nobody in the house could ignore the presence of the snack bar, especially its wafting smells. Like an explosion, the auctioneer perfectly timed the collective coffee surging with the bloodstream and his opening cry of, “Hey, Hey Mama, let’s go!!” We all jolted forward in our seats and the auction was off.

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Opening prices were high, as they usually are. Early on everyone has buying fever and many let the auction format get the best of their judgement. The “buy, buy, buy” frezy is difficult for anyone to thwart. During the show, I noticed a frail lady directly in front of me. She wore square glasses and a lacey shawl, delicate clothing to match her equally delicate disposition. I noticed she was constantly scanning the marketplace for her mate. Every few moments she would begin her laborsome task of moving her tiny frame into position to scan up the long isleway to look for her fella. Sitting directly to her left was a portly lass sporting an Ohio State crochet bonnet and matching sweatshirt. The big gal kept edging closer and closer to the frail lady, practically edging her out of her seat. Now, as a big fella myself, I can tell you this move was intentional. Just because you have extra meat on your bones does not mean you are unaware of your outcroppers. She was annexing the poor little old lady’s space like Germany annexing Poland. I immediately had distain for a person I had never even met. Here’s the most annoying part: while the little old lady turned to scan the crowd, the big gal would peer over her shoulder to see what she had written down about the previous or upcoming auction items…a definite breach of auction eddiquite and ethics. After edging the old lady for about an hour, the little old lady got up to look for her fella. The portly gal immediately gave her seat to a couple who asked if the seat was avalible. I began to say something but didn’t. Turns out, the new couple were even more annoying and, while sitting on each other’s lap, slowly edged out the portly lady until she left…never to be seen from again. Mu-ha-haaaaaa.

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There were some memorable moments at the auction. The auctioneer, when things were lagging, would sell items to the cadence of one-little two-little three-little Indian. That was odd. As was his bid-calling assistant who, as far as I can tell, was a bit shell shocked from the auction format. He would yell a hearty “Yuuuup!” at weird times, and twice when the auction was over and the auctioneer was describing the next item. The auctioneer would make a quip at his expense and the sale would continue without missing a beat. Once while auctioneering a pool stick set, the auctioneer said, “What-ya-got-thar? I can’t see on-a-counta the rack.” I leaned to Jill and said, “He’s talking about you, you know.” I giggled despite the swift elbow to the ribs. There was an Andre the Giant look-alike that helped display items.

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Andre the Giant as a Cowboy

He had a chew in the entire time, never saw him spit once. And his greasy finger-nailed hand would proudly display some of the finest antiques in all of Ohio. Then there was the flannel clad chunk that also helped hold up items. When he did, his big round belly would show and Jill would snicker every time. And lastly was the apprentice auctioneer. Described by my partner as a Mad Men stand-in, he was handsome, well groomed, well dressed and, well, out of place. As the final items crossed the block, he was called in as a sort of third-string auctioneer. Fortunately he did a nice job coming off the bench.

The auctioneer’s had two O’s in his name. As a huge James Bond fan, I automatically gave a lot of favor to anyone with double-o status. It was a fun auction. Jill won some, and lost some. Most importantly she won the main couple of items she wanted, which included her coveted Heywood Wakefield night stands, now a welcome addition to our bedroom. I loaded while Jill paid, our standard end-of-auction arrangement. Afterwards we headed to a local Mexican restaurant, another post-auction tradition. Jill had a glass of wine and I had a beer. No margaritas due to some oddball local blue-law that said those two alcohol drinks were ok, but hard liquor, like the kind found in a Margarita, were bad. I’m sure the Lord would be pleased that little town took such a hard stance. We enjoyed the momentary downtime as we prepared to head south again.

“I had a good weekend,” I toasted. “Me too,” Jill returned. “This has been a pretty lucky weekend.” “What do you mean,” she asked. “Well, you were lucky to win the original auction items. Afterall, that’s why we came up in the first place.” “True.” “And we were lucky to find the first ever February Garage Sale.” “Don’t know if that was luck so much. That was just bizarre.” “And how about the room? That was lucky.” “More for you! Since it was right in the middle of the cheerleader invasion of 2013.” “Well then, you have to admit the luck we found in this place. Probably it’s the luckiest ever!” “That’s true,” she said. “I did get some furniture I’ve been wanting for a long time. You’re right, we did get lucky.” “Hmmmm. That’s not what I was talking about. I meant here…here. We are lucky to find this place. Afterall, this is the first Mexican restaurant ever that has delivered our food without the plate being hot. ‘Hot plate.'” She giggled. And I’m serious. It’s the Mexican restauant Holy Grail. It’s called Fiesta Tropicana in Lancaster, directly across from Carnival Foods. Good food, good prices and no hot plate. (Feel free to use that catch phrase fellas. I got plenty more!)

Columbus Ohio Pickin’ Trip Part One – Heywood Wakefield Hell and February Yard Sales

30 Saturday Mar 2013

Posted by opidells in Pickin' and a Grinnin' - Chad's Rants from the Road

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Tags

adventures from the road, garage sales, heywood wakefield, opidells, picking, VINTAGE, yard sales

Part One

Once again, we headed northward to claim our stake. Or stake our claim. I can’t remember which way that one is supposed to go and since idioms aren’t my strong suit, I’ll say it both ways just to be safe. Anyway, we pointed the nose of the old truck down the interstate to do some claiming and staking, though not necessarily in that order.  Columbus, Ohio, would be home base as we branched out different directions, allowing the road to carry us wherever it deemed fit. Our reason for the trip was to pick-up a Heywood Wakefield China hutch Jill purchased at an on-line auction somewhere between here and there. I am not being intentionally elusive, I truly don’t remember the name of the little town. This time we had a small covered trailer in tow since it was raining, and since rain was forecasted for the entire weekend. We took all back roads out of Lexington for the duration northward.

We arrived at our first stop…a sleepy little town complete with a Main Street, a pair of barely used stoplights on opposite ends of the town, and a genuine small town feel to the whole place, despite the dreary misting rain. Inside we found a combination retail shop / on-line auction house / karoke bar / coffee shop / chili emporium. I’m not sure which business was most successful, but on that cold day the chili was by far the leader, in pungent smells if nothing else. Jill settled up while I began loading our wares into the Suburban and trailer. When I returned, Jill and the shop owner were waste deep in serious negotiation. I kept my head down…never look a negotiating woman in the eyes…and kept loading. In my mind I imagined Jill saying, “Now listen. When he comes in, lets pretend to be talking about price or something of the sorts. That way he will keep loading and I don’t have to go out into the rain.” I know that wasn’t true, but what husband hasn’t plotted his own wife’s demise while on the heavy end of a lifting assignment.

"Should I kill her for this?"

“Should I kill her for this?”

Turns out, Jill was negotiating. She ended up purchasing a Heywood Wakefield dining table with chairs that had not hit the online auction website. The ensemble was in rough shape, or I like to call it, ready-to-be-refinished shape, but the price was reflective. With a little elbow grease, there might be life left to breathe into this formerly cool Mid-Mod piece.

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Everything was loaded, strapped down, tied down, roped down and taped down, so we went thru the final (otherwise known as other) stoplight leaving town and back onto the backroads. The rain was still drizzling. Jill had 40’s music humming from the XM Radio, occassionally stealing glances of approval back at her hardware, then appreciative doe-eyed glances at me as if to say “thanks for letting me do this.” Oh my Jill…I can’t say no to her, and she can’t say no to Heywood Wakefield. It is a love-affair of undrstanding that I’m sure will continue for many years to come.

On the road of life, detours are what makes the trip, well, a trip. Back-road pickin’ is no exception to this sentiment. As we blasted down the highway, now to a Jill-selected Patsy Cline soundtrack, I briefly gazed from my intent highway stare to catch, out of the corner of my eye, a “Garage Sale” sign. Garage sale? At the time it was late February with a hefty blanket of snow on the ground. I had to pull an abrupt emergency 180 to investigate. Jill offered encouragement at my abrupt three-point turn disguised as curses coming from her window pressed cheeks. I got our rig under control and prepared to land in front of a busted up old gas station looking shack, barely off the main highway. I parked and we pondered. Was the sign for real? Afterall, there were remenants of gas station signage and I know the fuel stop had long gone. As curiosity began to peak my interest, I tried to ignore the faint wail of imagined banjo music I heard rustling thru the trees.

February Garage Sale?

February Garage Sale?

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We entered the establishment to a hero’s welcome. “Hi y’all doin?” The propietor sported high hanging overalls, flanel shirt and Sherpa style hat. Don’t know what a Sherpa hat is, don’t worry. Neither did I…I had to look it up. Think Eddie in Christmas Vacation. “Shitter’s full!” Anyway, the rest of his gang rounded out the brother Daryl and other brother Daryl ensymble, although quite a bit taller. The oldest brother, I’m guessing at about 35, said it was his birthday. We wished him a Happy Birthday, chatted for a bit, then commenced to peering thru their “garage sale.”

The whole garage sale consisted of the room in which the five of us stood. Looking around was quite literally looking around. That is to say, we had just enough room to spin in a circle to check out their goods, then sideways shuffle to get to another section of the tiny room. Then like a scene right out of Indiana Jones, I found a hidden door. “This included in the garage sale?” I asked. “Well, I ain’t thought bout it. Ain’t much it there…just some old stuff we ain’t cleaned out in a long time. Roofs collapsed in a spot in there…mostly old stuff from an antique shop that used to be in there.” Jills ears perked up like a Jack rabbit on Easter. “Mind if we take a look? I asked. “Naw, sure…s’long as you don’t sue me for falling in no holes.” I agreed and opened the door.

Now we were pickin’! And a grinnin I might add. We tried to contain our excitement lest we ruin our poker faces. Jill got in her head down rumage stance while I tried not to get in the way. My job, as usual, was to keep the propiteor semi-entertained so Jill could work uninterrupted. I stumbled upon some cool old decanters at the front of the shop with all the brothers peering at me. “Hmph, it must be your birthday,” I snorted. “Why there ain’t a drop of liquor left in any of these old bottles!” They thought that was halarious, and amongst the back-slappin I believe I was accepted as one of their own. We chatted a spell while Jill made her final selections. Among the best of the lot was an antique globe, a really cool roll down map and a few of the decanters came with us as well. All in all a pretty good truck, as Huck Finn would say.

Awesome Globe!

Awesome Globe!

We paid the gent and said our final goodbyes to the fellows before loading our finds and heading back out on the highway. It’s funny to look back and think about what transpired. Our initial feeling was that of fear…fear of being bound and killed, or worse. But ultimately these were good old boys, just like me. Hell, maybe they had the same initial fear when I said I was from Kentucky. In this world it seems like we are being told more and more to keep up our guard. Now I’m not saying to be nieve. Not at all…just more accepting of things the way they are. Forget what the news yells at us nightly. This counrty is still chocked full of good people. Good people just like our new friends we were fortunate to cross paths with, on some random highway in some random town. While we were seeing scenes from a bad 80’s horror flick, they were just hanging out selling some stuff and celebrating a birthday. There were some good deals, good items, and above all good people…real good people…at the February Garage Sale.

 

Heywood Wakefield China Hutch and a Growing Vintage Dish Problem…

21 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by opidells in Using Vintage in the Home

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1950's, cups and saucers, dinner plates, flatware, heywood wakefield, spoons, VINTAGE

So in a past post, I wrote about how Chaddy Daddy and I acquired some awesome, well-loved vintage Heywood Wakefield pieces, one being a china hutch.  Currently, Chaddy Daddy is refinishing the Mr. & Mrs. Dresser for me as part of the on-going Heywood Wakefield Bedroom Makeover, which is still a work in progress.  In the meantime, I set up the china hutch in our sitting room and FILLED it with all my lovely retro dishes.  Take a look!

Heywood Wakefield China Hutch

Heywood Wakefield China Hutch







Heywood Wakefield Bedroom Makeover Part Two…

02 Saturday Mar 2013

Posted by opidells in Using Vintage in the Home

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auction, bedroom makeover, heywood wakefield

So the Heywood Wakefield bedroom makeover is slowly but surely coming along.  The room is painted a lovely shade called Polar Gray, which is a soothing soft, icy bluish gray color in semi-gloss just perfect for peaceful slumber.  The bed will arrive Monday, March 4rth and I’m so excited I can’t stand it.  Anyhow, I have collected the rest of the Heywood Wakefield bedroom pieces from the Encore line in wheat finish, including a high boy chest of drawers in excellent original finish, a Mr. and Mrs. dresser in very poor condition, and two extremely hard to find nightstands that were recently refinished by the eBay seller from which I bought them.

The High Boy Chest of Drawers

The High Boy

The High Boy

So after ordering the bed, I scoured online auction sites within a tri-state area for upcoming sales of Heywood Wakefield furniture.  I found one up north that had the High Boy, a set of end tables, a Chair, and a full sized bed.  As well, I found an online auction with a Heywood Wakefield buffet and a table with four chairs.  The pick up point for this auction was only 30 minutes from the other day-of auction, so I placed my bids and crossed my fingers.  I ended up winning the buffet and dining table set and so Chaddy Daddy and I made a weekend trip out of the deal.  It was the first week in February 2013 and, of course, a snow storm had to hit….

Karmatic Snow Storm

Karmatic Snow Storm

The highways were so bad that only one lane was really navigable and we slid several times.  I began wondering if Heywood Wakefield furniture was worth dying over…and decided we should continue on.

So the first stop was to pick up the table, chairs, and buffet.  The buffet was in good condition, but the table and chairs were very poor and will need refinished.  Loading solid wood furniture in the sloshy wet snow was undeniably no fun….

Chaddy Daddy looking not so happy to be doing my bidding in the lovely weather...

I’m pretty sure I photographically captured the moment Chaddy Daddy was either plotting my murder or his own suicide. What’s he going to do with that rope?

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The buffet barely fit in the back of the Suburban…

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These chairs will need TOTALLY refinished…summer project.

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Oh, one day you’ll look so lovely in the future dining room Chaddy Daddy has no idea I’m designing…

DSCF5808 DSCF5805 DSCF5804

So after the pickup we headed to the big city hotel and partied all night so we would be nice and exhausted for the next day’s auction…

We saw an arrest made after a brawl in front of a...clinic of some sort...

On the way, we saw an arrest made after a brawl in front of a…clinic of some sort…

We ate and drank a lot!

We ate and drank a lot!

...and Chaddy Daddy did some more skydiving...

…and Chaddy Daddy did some more skydiving…

So the next day, we got up bright and early, ate breakfast, and headed to the auction house…

DSCF5932

I was hoping the weather would deter most people from attending, but I think everyone had the same hope and came out anyway to see if they were lucky enough to be right…

The place was packed full of antiques, mostly glassware and guns, with a small assortment of antique furniture as well.  I spied the Heywood Wakefield grouping quickly, as it looked a bit out of place amongst all the old mahogany pieces.

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Full Sized Bed in Champagne Finish

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My High Boy

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A chair and two end-tables I had to give up on and walk away without…bummer.

So in the end, I won the High Boy by gritting my teeth and bidding up to my top dollar number.  Fortunately, my top dollar was $10 higher than my competitor’s and I won the piece by the skin of my teeth.  I also won the full sized bed at a surprisingly low price and had several people tell me later that I was lucky to have “stolen” it.  Sometimes the auction gods are in my favor…what can I say?

The Mr. & Mrs. Dresser

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The Mr. & Mrs. Dresser was a Craigslist find I came across three hours away in northern, Ohio.  The seller said  the piece was structurally sound but the finish was in poor condition.  After haggling an extra $50 off the already low price, we agreed to meet in the parking lot of the seller’s local Wal-Mart, as is standard with most  Craigslist transactions.  Although the seller’s description of the piece was honest, I forgot to ask, and he did not disclose, that the piece came from a smoking household.  By the smell of the piece, this was a chain-smoking, non-filtered Camel Reds kind of household with no windows or ventilation system as well.  We put it in the bedroom and now fear we’ll contract black lung from the very odor it emanates if we don’t hurry up and refinish it soon!

This is the top of the dresser after some sanding, which I did in the bedroom knowing I wasn't supposed to and got caught!

This is the top of the dresser after some sanding, which I did in the bedroom knowing I wasn’t supposed to and got caught!

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Dresser Front…this thing can hold a lot of clothing! It may be called Mr. & Mrs., but it might end up all Mrs.!

The Night Stands

Encore Night Stands

Encore Night Stands

I bought the nightstands off eBay from a Pennsylvania seller by the handle name jwb213.  I almost lost them at the last minute, but won them by a hair because I put in my maximum bid early and beat out a last minute bidder.

My little night stand pod!  Isn't is cute!

My little night stand pod! Isn’t it cute!

So all that’s left is the bed, which will be here Monday!  I’ll be sure to post about it as soon as we get it up and functional.  Still have to refinish the Mr. & Mrs. Dresser as well, but that’s a whole other post in itself.

Heywood Wakefield Bedroom Make Over – Post 1 of Who-Knows-How-Long-This-Will-Take…

19 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by opidells in Using Vintage in the Home

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Tags

bedroom remodel, encore, furniture, heywood wakefield, skydiving, VINTAGE, wheat finish

So I haven’t told you about my newfound love of Heywood Wakefield furniture and need to catch you up on the latest surge of using vintage in the home.  You see, Chaddy Daddy and I have been contemplating a bedroom makeover for a while since currently the Boudoir consists of a hodge-podge of mismatched, hand-me-down furniture, a “doorless” closet, and multi-colored walls due to an excess of paint samples and a case of extreme indecisiveness.  Well, during one of my early morning caffeine-induced internet browsing sessions, I stumbled upon a blog post where the writer describes how she found the perfect new bed to go with her existing vintage Heywood Wakefield furniture.  I was intrigued because, you see, the bad thing about midcentury modern, vintage, or antique beds is that its nearly impossible to find one any bigger than a full size as queen and king sized beds weren’t really manufactured until later. When I saw the picture of the bed, I fell in love with its smooth curves, honey hue, and the fact that there are loads of original vintage pieces to match.

M530 Style Master Bed  www.Heywood-Wakefield.com

M530 Style Master Bed http://www.Heywood-Wakefield.com

Isn’t she lovely???  I knew immediately that it was time to redo the love nest and this bed was destined to be the center piece!  I’m almost ashamed to post it, but below is a picture of our current bed and bedroom….

Broken Down Bed...

Broken Down Bed…

It’s seen better days by far, and if you’re wondering why it closely resembles a sway back mule, please know it’s due to Chaddy Daddy’s excessive “skydiving” a.k.a. “bed jumping”, a phenomenon where he leaps high into the air before face planting into the bed all while demanding I photograph it repeatedly in order to catch that elusive perfect point of levitation. Google it…there’s entire websites with nothing but “bed jumping” pictures considered “art” by some (insert eye roll and a heavy sigh here).

Chaddy Daddy in mid-leap donning a make-shift hotel towel cape...

Chaddy Daddy in mid-leap donning a make-shift hotel towel cape…

Levitation perfected...

Levitation perfected…

...followed by the high-impact, hard-hitting, bed-debilitating crash landing...

…followed by the high-impact, hard-hitting, bed-debilitating crash landing…

In case you couldn’t tell, the trio of pics above were taken at a hotel because “skydiving” has been banned at our house.  Yet even hotel beds aren’t safe, as Chaddy Daddy has been known to fold a bed in half, literally, while skydiving, and although I do have the photograph to prove it, I will not post it in an attempt to keep this blog as “PG” as possible since the makeshift hotel towel cape may have been the only thing he was donning at the time. (Yes, we lose our hotel security deposits often…)

Anyway, I’ve digressed.  So I ordered the Heywood-Wakefield bed in Queen Size, much to my Mother’s Horror.  She insisted I upgrade to a King Size, but Chaddy Daddy and I are accustomed to a Queen Size and there’s no use in paying for more bed when I only give him a sliver of mattress anyway :).  The bed won’t be here until the end of March, so I’ve had time to search for vintage pieces to match.  Heywood Wakefield made furniture from 1897 to 1979 with its most popular pieces made between 1940 – 1960 and was known for its beautiful art deco lines and blonde opaque finishes in Wheat and Champagne.  I am personally fond of the Encore line in the wheat finish and chose this line for the bedroom.

Example of a Heywood Wakefield Encore Chest of Drawers in Wheat Finish

Example of a Heywood Wakefield Encore Chest of Drawers in Wheat Finish

So, I am gathering pieces here and there for the bedroom remodel and can’t wait to post more about it, but you, like me, will have to be patient….

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