Well, in the end, we did not rip up carpet. Will (rightly) pointed out that if you are going to paint the walls and the ceiling of a room (and we are) and are also going to rip up the carpet (most definitely to that as well), you might as well use the carpet for a drop cloth. So instead of ripping up our drop cloth, we started painting. I'd love to show you pictures but as it is beadboard we are painting, we didn't get very far. I'm going to take a leaf out of Lola's books (still favorites around here) and say that painting beadboard is NOT my favorite or my best. Instead, we'll take a little tour of the only room in the house that looks remotely done-ish. Evie's room.
Because we have lived most of our adult lives together in what New Yorkers would call "Pre-war" dwellings, plus a few immediately post war houses, our furniture is proportioned for bungalow-esque rooms. Small, square, symmetrical. Add to the mix that large chunks of our furniture did not make it during this last move - the chairs simply died, as did the small buffet table. The loveseat, well I can't actually remember where the loveseat went but it's not here - and we are a bit sparse around here. Hence the anniversary armchair. Briton is getting a new bed, when we get around to building it and we are on the hunt for one for ourselves. There are no chairs in the dining room or the sun room (so two tables to eat at but no chairs to sit in, it's a problem) and one of the seats in the den is a camping chair. But Evelyn, lucky girl that she is, had all the furniture she needed sitting in storage just waiting for her to have a room of her own again.
I won't call it done, because it's not, not by any means. But it's inching it's way there. There is a quilt still to be made. Blue and roses, at her request. The carpet needs to be gone, as it does all over the house and she needs a nice fluffy rug. And a bed skirt. And probably less
things in her room, although I doubt that will happen because she loves it the way it is.
There is much primping of the room. When we first put her vanity together she asked me for some "pretty things" to go on top. So as I've unpacked I've found various pretty little things. An old silver brush. A tray, a purse, some little houses. She tells me all about it as she tidies up in the morning.
"This is my art drawer. And this is for my
jewelry."
"The brush goes here mom, on the tray!"
"Eliza goes on the bed, and the puppies go in the cradle and the other dolls go in the big cradle."
There are cats, cut out of fabric and ironed on using Stiffin Stuff, on her windows and old embroidered pillowcases pinned up for curtains. The bed and the vanity that we bought for her when she was two, knowing she would love it and the dresser, once her brother's, that I painted to match. There are words from a favorite song on her wall.
"Witches can be right.
Giants can be good.
You decide what's Right.
You decide what's Good."
A good lesson for a fairytale loving girl, I think.
She loves it. And I love that she loves it. And that one room is, at least partially, done.
Now, back to the beadboard I go.
