Tag Archives: furniture

Chairs are a beautiful thing.

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And we’re so in love with ours right now I fear they’ll be occupying blog space for a while.

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Do you know how nice it is to actually be able to sit at our bar?

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Trust me, after weeks of standing? It’s seriously nice.

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And yes, I admit a fair amount of alcoholic beverages have been consumed in the short time we’ve owned them.

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Note to self – clear off magnetic bottle opener before guests arrive.

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Ah….

Chairs.

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Back in the Barn Mahal…

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It was recently brought to my attention that our barn was in need of comfortable seating in which to kick back after a vigorous session of drinking. And to that I say…

I’m way ahead of you.

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Okay, so it’s actually just the porch furniture we store inside every winter… but I’m thinking come spring, when it heads back outside? Two leather club chairs with a small table in between.

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Husband hung a few appropriate signs behind the (soon to be bar) the other day.

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Armpit lemon? Remind me not to over indulge in Puerto Rico.

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no sewing required  spot was found for the husband’s assorted patches.

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And a few more photos were carefully hung… while standing on a safe.

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As you can see, I have arrived … and finally been given representation in the man cave.

Yay me.

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A magnetic bottle opener was installed on the staircase.

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And a recent antique store purchase was displayed.

It’s time for Name That Crap!

What is it?

(Kerry, you be quiet. 😉)

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Ka-Ching!!

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That’s the sound my checkbook made when we drove down to the design studio to purchase the custom made bar chairs my husband had his heart set on.

We met the two very pleasant Lithuanian immigrants who own the business and found they do interesting work.

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Their furniture is starting to catch on and has been written up in numerous magazines.

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Maine restaurants and businesses have contracted large orders….

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And its only thanks to Covid that they considered a small order like ours.

These are the 30 inch swivel pub chairs my husband fell in love with.

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Made from 120 year old reclaimed barn boards and strong enough to seat an African elephant, they’re remarkably comfortable as well.

The designers explained it would take 6 weeks to make our 6 chairs because they just had to lay off most of their people due to the virus. A huge order from L.L. Bean had been cancelled, which while bad news for them… was great news for us.

They were even kind enough to let us take a sample chair home for a test run.

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We sidled it up next to the (still unfinished since the contractor seems to have taken a powder) bar and the height was perfect.

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I’m hoping to match the front facing of the bar to one of the medium shades on the chair.

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If the builder ever decides to return.

A few days later when we brought the chair back, I decided I needed some matching shelves for my liquor bottles.

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They’ll look like these. The wood will match the chairs… which pleases me, and the brackets will be made from old railroad spikes… which pleases the husband.

Two shelves on either side of the bar window for a total of four. What the hell. If you’re going to do it, do it right.

Ka-Ching!

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My husband shops in the strangest places.

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On our way home from the antique mall the other day, we stopped at a bar.

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You’re shocked, I know.

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One Paloma in…

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The husband started examining bar chairs.

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They were tall, sturdy, rustic… and swiveled.

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Two Palomas, a cup of clam chowder ….

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A Cosmo and a Cajun fried chicken sandwich later….

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The husband decided he wanted these exact chairs for his bar.

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After tracking down the restaurant’s owner we discovered they were custom made by a company an hour and a half away….

So away we went.

To be continued.

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The search continues.

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The search for appropriate height bar chairs goes on.

And on.

And on……

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After 4 more stores  we found one.

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The husband gave it  a test drive and was less than thrilled, with the design and the comfort level, but at that point we were ready to settle. Problem was that chair was the only one….  in the entire store. None in the back. None at the factory.

But this?

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This you could buy 5 times over.

Wow.

The 70’s are calling…. they want their velvet back.

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We found this chair at the next store. It was the right height, but had a tiny seat that was surely designed by the Marquis de Sade.

At the 6th store we visited that day, when we despaired of ever finding anything… we sucked it up and realized we’d have to pay a small fortune and go custom.

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Working with a salesman, we chose this.

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I won’t tell you what they cost per, but trust me….. it was enough to make you catch your breath.

So just when we were ready to pluck down a massive down payment to get the ball rolling, we were told that due to the pandemic….. the wait time on production was 12 plus weeks.

We’d have to wait 3 months to sit at our bar? Damn.

I didn’t like it…. but I liked the swivel, large seated, comfortable, attractive option so I was willing.

Husband on the other hand, was not.

The search continues.

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Shopping is not for the faint hearted.

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Our search for 30 inch tall bar chairs has begun.

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And it’s not going well.

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24 inch counter height chairs abound.

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But apparently no one else (builds a two story barn with a farmer’s porch for storage, decides they rather have a spectacular man cave, spends endless months and thousands of dollars making it attractive, contracts out construction of a full bar and) needs taller than normal chairs.

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11 furniture stores later?

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Liquid sustenance at our local pub, and the husband came home with these instead.

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I’m seriously beginning to wonder if he’s going to live out there.

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Going, going… gone.

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Now that the man cave/ barn Mahal is starting to shape up? The husband wanted things out. My things that is.

Our old loveseat has been stored in there for years, and I was sad to see it go because it’s wicked comfortable and matched the walls quite well.

I voted for keeping it as you can never have too many comfy kick back with a beer or cocktail places to sit, but was instantly over ruled.

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The first person turned out to be the in-law of the man who stained our barn, so goodbye loveseat.

The next thing he made me get rid of was the driftwood tree. He’s been squawking about it’s removal for months now and no matter how much I tried to convince him it would be a unique addition to the barn decor?

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The minute I listed it? Three women were fighting over it. Guess I should have sold it instead.

So two of the things I wanted to keep were gone…. and guess what was added?

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A turkey foot that flips you off.

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This was a retaliation gift for the plaque I made the previous owner of the pool table after my husband beat him badly at the first game. They insisted the foot and plaque accompany the table…. so we’re now the proud owners of a petrified foot.

What do you want to bet we’re the only house on our block with one of those?

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The circle of life.

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As you already know, my husband is the king of free. He can’t pass up anything, no matter how useless…. as long as he doesn’t have to pay for it.

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This has driven me nuts for years and I have never, ever! felt the need to join him in his obsession.

Until last week.

When I saw this on our local Facebook page:

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Pre-Covid our plan was to replace all the flooring in our home. (Post Covid? Holy crap, I don’t want strange people in my house!) Along with that plan would have come long overdue new furniture, to include coffee tables. So since the plan went out the window with the plague, I thought why not? This looks good… and it might be a nice interim fix.

I should have known.

When the husband lifted it out of the truck? It jiggled…. and never even made it into the house. What an utter piece of junk! Fake wood, loose glass and legs so unsteady dropping a napkin on it would probably cause it to collapse.

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Out it went, in front of our house.

How bad was it?

The damn thing was there for a week and though lots of people looked, no one wanted it.

Next stop?

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The recycle center.

Where I left it…. and my desire to ever pick up anything marked free again.

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Products no one needs but you know someone will buy.

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This first one is sure to be a favorite on Valentines Day.

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Because nothing says I love you like petrified beef.

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Good God, do these things still even exist?

Please, for the love of all that’s holy… no.

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For when you really want to throw down like Hamlet.

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This.

This is really what’s wrong with America. We’re too damn lazy to sit up.

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Pfft. I call foul.

Everyone knows Alfred Von Wigglebottom wouldn’t be caught dead on anything less than Danish Modern.

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I love my town.

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And their wacky Facebook Group postings.

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Cat damage and springs that poke your butt?

Hurry up people, these won’t last long!

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A noisy big yellow machine. I shall follow this thread and report back. Who knows… maybe it’s the Beatles’ long lost submarine.

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Christ. Don’t tell my husband!

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You may not know what it feels like to fall off the turnip truck, but in my town… apparently you can fall off the potato one.

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This is a running gag because certain parts of our town lose power quite easily. Flatulent rodents will probably strike here next, stay tuned

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Sadly, I know of no retail chicken establishments.

Wonder if I could talk them into a few clever and highly motivated red squirrels instead?

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