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.
.
.
I’m seriously beginning to wonder if he’s going to live out there.
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.
.
.
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?
.
.
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?
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.
.
.
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.
My girlfriend was in the market for furniture and asked me to go with her to the new Jordan’s that opened at the Maine Mall.
.
.
Holy mackerel Batman!
Clearly it’s been a long time since I shopped for a sofa, because this was a totally immersive experience.
Yes, that picture is of the one store… not the mall itself. Huge doesn’t begin to describe it. We walked and walked and walked and thought we’d never find the end.
Some of the furniture was…
.
.
Different.
Let’s go with that.
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.
Wait…
What?
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Is this the hamster night light option?
Or disco lighting for when your urge to do the Hustle is too strong to ignore?
Either way, I’ll pass.
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The home office section had a few quirky pieces as well.
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They were actually selling these vintage typewriters.
Price? $450.
And yes, I’ll be checking the husband’s barn for one as soon as I’m done posting.
So it was an interesting place. But the weirdest thing of all?
.
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This:
.
Yes.
It’s been long time since I went furniture shopping.
The first settlement in America looked something like this.
And I have to admit the buildings were larger than I thought they’d be.
This was the church.
And I swear it’s bigger than the one in my town today.
I loved the thatched roofs on the cottages.
And we enjoyed poking around inside them.
Some of them were simple.
Some a little more grand.
Check out the armor on top of the cupboard.
Nothing like some weaponry over the dining room table to get the gastric juices flowing.
Speaking of that…. there was an armory.
And it doesn’t matter how many times I see these, I still can’t imagine having to wear them into battle. I mean damn, they make my underwire bra look positively comfortable in comparison.
Needless to say the husband was loving all the old tools and farm implements.
Yes dear….
Rusty metal…. I see it.
The last building we checked out was a communal kitchen.
And you know what I found… right?
Wandering at will….
Hoping something would fall off the table.
There were also fake cocktails, which is a rude tease to those of us who happened to be thirsty.
Crossing back over to the DeWitt side of the museum, things got a bit more formal.
And a trifle bizarre.
I think a little 18th Century photoshopping was in order here.
Okay then.
I saw the portrait of the gentleman on the left and thought, “What’s with the hair?”
And apparently I wasn’t the only one who asked.
It was an extensive gallery.
And according to George…. will be even more extensive soon.
Another sad statement of the times.
This couple struck me as a little odd.
Is it me or does the wife’s right arm look a wee bit…. off? As in, did the creepy husband chop it off and line it back up for the portrait?
We’ll never know.
At the far end of the gallery there was a video that was oddly mesmerizing.
And then on the way out there was a chair, which I forgot to photograph.
But George didn’t like it.
Chairs that were no good for sitting.
Excellent.
Through with the museum, we realized we’d not only skipped lunch but were now ready for dinner.
When I asked the husband what he was in the mood for, he said anything… so I picked a well reviewed barbecue restaurant in Williamsburg.
And the husband didn’t like it from the minute we stepped through the door.
Why?
Who knows.
They brought us yummy cornbread to munch while we looked at the menu.
Which he also didn’t like.
Pulled pork sundae? Come on… what’s wrong with that!
I managed to talk him into staying for appetizers.
So he had a chili he didn’t like either.
I went with some spicy steamed shrimp.
And while the rest of the customers were enjoying large platters of succulent looking food, he told me to pick another place because all they had on the menu was barbecue.
Gee. Who woulda thunk it?
People always think I’m the picky one, but when it comes to eating out my husband will drive you to drink.
Which in my case isn’t necessarily a negative…. but still.
The second restaurant that night was Italian.
Everyone raved about Sal’s, so I figured, why not?
He couldn’t complain about the menu being small.
It went on for multiple pages.
The garlic knots were perfect.
(Okay, I ate 4. Don’t judge.)
The salads were fresh and tasty.
My veal Marsala was tender, perfectly cooked and filled with wine soaked mushrooms.
He certainly couldn’t complain his chicken parmigiana was a small portion.
Good God, it was huge.
But you know what? He didn’t like this place either.
And heck, I’m the one who should have been complaining….there were no cocktails!
There are two distinct collections in what used to be the lunatic asylum building… The Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum and the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum.
It’s a bit fluid when you enter…
And since it was the Christmas season I wasn’t surprised to see one of these.
Please note there’s a chicken instead of an angel on the top. I’m not sure what that means, other than there might be a secret cult of barnyard fowl practicing nearby. Which lead me to Google image search ‘religious chicken’ and then I was off….
Yes….
I’m easily distracted… but you have to admit,
This architect had a sense of humor.
And now back to your regularly scheduled program:
The story behind it was interesting.
Me like.
Though I doubt I’ll be making my own or buying the book.
And opposite the festive tree?
Implements of death….
Because nothing says holiday cheer like various ways to kill each another.
But even I have to admit they were beautiful specimens.
And if you look closely, you can see the scowling face on the bottom of the grip.
I read the DeWitt has the largest collection of southern furniture in the world…
And I believe it.
There were rows and rows of unique examples.
There were also some fabulous fashions of the day.
And yes…
Shoes!
And if that wasn’t wonderful enough… there was 300 year old fabric.
And a vintage runway.
Those little harlots.
Did you see how much ankle she was showing?
Shameless!
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 