Tales of Phoebe

Stories about my chronically overbooked, queen of the yes-aholics, friend "Phoebe".

 

 

(Rescued, repainted curb find)

I'm a curb comber. 

Yep - the secret to my decorating style is out. I love to grab stuff off the curb. My house is done in a style I lovingly refer to as "stuff from dead people". Almost everything I own came from either my dead relatives or someone else's via estate sales, St Vincent de Paul or the curb.

To date, I have bought exactly one couch, two wing chairs, and a variety of mattresses that were brand spanking new. Everything else - dead people.

Well - I guess some of them aren't dead. They maybe just cleared out a room.

But many of them are dead.

I don't sweat it.

So, earlier this week I was driving along my street and there on the curb was this oak pedestal table with an enormous pedestal foot and one leaf in it.

I was driving the cute little Mazda 3 and not the honkin big Odyssey van. Dammit!

I got out and looked at it - not a great table as it was, but some terrific potential if I painted it. But I didn't really have time in my schedule to go to John's office and get the van. And, honestly, my house is getting too full and I don't even know where I could stash the thing until I could get to refinishing or painting it.

I said my goodbyes and drove off.

But it nagged.

Now the only person I know who has more "projects" sitting around her house optimistically awaiting their facelifts is my friend "Phoebe" (not her real name, obviously - she has requested anonymity which I will surely honor).

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