Refinishing Woes

So this summer I bought a piece of junk. Or treasure. Or antique. However you want to put it. It was rough. It needed an overhaul, but it was awesome! 

I'm afraid I was a little optimistic when I bought the piece. 

It's a bakers table. Right there, the name had me. It has possum belly drawers. I mean, just the descriptors had me swooning. People kneaded bread on this table. Bread that nourished their families. I love thinking about the story of a piece like this. It had worn places in the top, knicks and cuts. Character. Character from years of use. My use was much less nostalgic, I needed something to put our TV on. So I bought the piece. Thinking, quick strip, quick sand, quick paint, done. HA. Big 'ole HA! 

I tried to strip the piece, It was goopy, it was gunky, it was a dead end. Then I found a peek of the finish under some of the alligator skin-like paint. It was beautiful and I was all in-even though I didn't know what that all meant. 

Because you see, I've never refinished furniture. I've done a little paint stripping, a tiny bit of sanding, and I'm a professional with a spray paint can, but this was over my head. WAY over my head. I decided to try and sand because the paint stripper was frustrating me. I was at the point of believing I couldn't make it worse!

The sander and I could not get along. I wasn't strong enough to control the thing. 

I had a baby in a bathtub...but a sander? A sander was too much, but that's besides the point, it wasn't the tool I needed right then anyway-now I know that. So my attempt to love and restore this piece was cut short. I walked away annoyed, overwhelmed, and a little torked. 

The bakers table sat on the deck for two weeks. A punishment of sorts. Finally, I hauled it in the basement to a corner and walked away. I thought "Maybe it's a fall project." then I thought "Maybe it's a Winter project." 

It turned out to be a Winter project, but not for me. Jerrel got a sander for Christmas, he'd been itching to use. One night he was talking about it and I casually said, "Um...you know honey...if you are really wanting to try out your sander...likeiknowyouwantto...that baker's table is downstairs. It's not too big, just might be the perfect project to perfect your sanding skills."

Hook. Line. Sinker. Now my basement looks like this. 

But my baker's table is looking gorgeous! Four days of work so far. See here's the thing about marrying a man that is particular. A "I complete the mission." kind of person. My kitchen sink is always clean, his closet is like a show room, and his projects? His projects aren't done until they are DONE.

I accidentally locked the basement door one time I came up from checking on the progress. Later I heard knockings. "Jessica, can I please come up? Please, don't lock me down there again."

Nope, a deals and deal. Finish the table then you can come up.

Just kidding. I let him up and fed him supper. Today we picked out stain as he is JUST about to that step and I can't wait. I know that table is just going to come to life again.

Blessings!

P.S. The sander works marvelous!