Previously I’ve shared my habit of coming home with orphan furniture. I can’t help it… they cry out to me. I’m an addict that needed a fix.
Oh, Salvation Army store… always a treasure trove of misfit furniture. From across the aisle, his wingback goodness beckoned. Upon closer inspection I was delighted to find he was actually a rocker. A platform rocker has stationary legs and a curved mid-section, allowing for shallow rocking movement.
Easing into his comfy embrace, I smiled thinking of all the babes that had been rocked to sleep in his care. Or perhaps it was old men easing their aching bones and passing gas in his deep cushions. Uh, wait… let’s stick with the baby storyline.
While his frame was solid, the wide plaid suit he wore belied his age. Musty in odor, missing buttons, and literally crumbling to the touch, it no longer fit the bill.
His under-things needed attention first. Some fresh strapping gave him the support he lacked, just like a trusty pair of tighty-whities — not pretty, but it gets the job done.
My mom taught me to sew, but she never attempts a project without a pattern. I tend to be a little more cavalier with my stitches and winged a half-hazard upholstery revamp with new fabric and filling. It is amazing what some new clothes can do; a little leaner, cleaner and brighter. Besides a thorough wipe-down, I didn’t touch the wood and yet it looks so much richer in a new suit.
His dignity restored, the wingback now lives in Bug’s room. He has more rocking to do, more stories to be read, and more memories to add to his resumé.
