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I was fumbling through the old menus at Janet Jarvits' cookbook store over on Hill Street in Pasadena and discovered a few that I thought would be worth saving.  In fact, they seemed nice enough to frame, so I did.  Here are the pictures.  The first frame of each series shows the whole framed piece, and then the detail shots follow.

As the dates on them reveal, these menus are from the period 1830 through 1910.  They were produced for individual guests at private dinners, each handwritten by a servant of the house.  On the reverse of each is written the name of the guest.  The guests likely took them home as remembrances of the party.  It goes without saying that this sort of thing was an indulgence for the wealthy classes.  As to design, you might note that the first set of cards contains the same menu on different stock--apparently each guest had a different picture on his or her menu.  Also see the detail on the last set of cards-- simply exquisite.  In olden times the rich did not call out for pizza.

Michael McGrorty

Well, here you go.  Remember that drop-leaf table I was working on?  It's finished now, literally and figuratively.  As refinish jobs go, it isn't that bad, though I know every little flaw and mistake in the thing now--if you sew or do other such work you know exactly what I mean.  You're never completely happy with the result.  But it's history now, and I can move on to something else.  A bit over four months of time, but probably only about ten hours of actual work.  Compare the original here in the first two shots to the refurbished model:

Now all I need is some old chairs to refinish and put around the table.

Michael McGrorty

Today was rather warm here; a good day for nothing else but staining newly finished wood.  I made up a dose of my favorite hot-weather drink (thirds of water, iced tea and sour lemonade) and kept it handy as I continued to work on the table I am rehabilitating. 

The stain I chose is Minwax Sedona Red, but I used it on the light side so as not to get too harsh a tone.  As is it gives a pretty fair accounting of itself.  Tomorrow or the next day I will put on a coat of polyurethane, rub that and then do another.  This should turn out all right.  Here are some views:

By the way, they don't call it stain for nothing--my knees are now Sedona Red.  Perhaps I should do the whole leg and see if I like the effect.

Michael McGrorty

Somebody help me out here.  I found this in my garage on an old moving blanket.  I think it is Arctophila flagrans or A. harveyi; any other ideas out there?

Michael McGrorty

For the past few days I've been laboring at that rather antique table I got from the thrift store.  I am about halfway done with stripping off the old finish, and boy that stuff is on there tight.  It takes three applications of remover plus two sandings to get down to the oak, and the underside is worse yet.  Of course, this is a perfect job for me.  I get time to think in the silence of the garage while doing something useful with my hands. 

This is how the wood looks completely stripped. You can see there is a glow to it, even without finish applied.  Certainly it looks better than when covered with the original thick varnish.  The closest description of the old finish I can think of would be to compare it to the dulled wax on a kitchen floor.  I'm going to test a few new finishes on the bottom before deciding which to use.

This is a oak piece whose legs would have been better if made of ash or maple.  The oak is the same as the table top and didn't finish as well.  Oak has too much of a visible grain to lathe-turn without showing flaws.  But it is what I have to work with, and I wouldn't want to change the original furnishings. 

Tomorrow brings another episode of the same.  Quite a lot of fun.

Link to original table posting: 

http://librarydust.typepad.com/library_dust/2007/03/hidden_failure.html

M. McGrorty

There are people who will tell you that there is nothing worth buying at the thrift store.  Those folks are just plain wrong, as evidenced by today's discovery, which is an item I had never even thought existed, much less stumbled across anywhere else. 

The box advises that the Throwaway Dog's Dung Bag is "Great for the busy dog owner with an active lifestyle."  I am the owner of two terriers, and my lifestyle, like theirs, is pretty active.  I showed them the box and asked if they thought this would be a help to their lifestyle; their reply took me an hour to clean off the hall carpet.  Just in case you are wondering, this item is covered under U.S. Patent 6,494,168B2.  You can look it up.

Michael McGrorty

Today I found a nice old walnut drop-leaf table at the junk store, ready to be refinished.  It is missing its extra center leaf, but I would never have used it anyhow.  This will make for a good summer project.  The table is 50 x 70 inches; with the leaves down it is two feet wide.  First, take a look at these pictures--you might be able to see the bubble gum on the bottom of the table in some of them.

Now, think of me taking those pictures and stumbling upon a crumpled bit of paper, stuck behind one of the table legs where it meets the underside.  It was a report card for a poor soul named Jesse, whose teacher in Algebra 1A had given him the following grades on March 4th of 2002:

Current Homework:  D-.  Current Quiz:  F.  Current Overall Grade:  F.  Current Citizenship Grade:  S.

Boxes are also checked for the following:  "Your child is not completing homework regularly."  "Your child has low test scores."  "Your child did not turn in the 20 point Olympic Math Project."  "Your child is in danger of failing this quarter."

Below this is a line for Parent/Guardian signature, which is of course blank, because Jesse, whatever else he might be failing in, is no fool.  He knows exactly what will happen when this news reaches his folks, and is determined to delay the event as long as possible.  We may imagine the scene:  He's at the dinner table, squirming uncomfortably as his siblings display their own report cards; when the moment comes for him, he shoves the damning paper against the table leg and says, 'I didn't get one.  Maybe next week.'  Poor Jesse.  Next week always comes.  By the way, wherever you are, Jesse, I failed junior high Algebra, too.  They told me that if I didn't pass it, I'd never go to college or amount to anything.  One out of two is fifty percent, right?  I got that much from math, anyway.

I'll let you know how the refinishing is coming along.

Michael McGrorty