This Old Chair


This chair was bought, well used, during the Yuppie years. Painted in diversity smurf blue, it ( and its mate ) went for a good price. It is a great chair. So great that it earned container-worthy status. I think it was a hearty giggle, no doubt from one of my many amazing live blague posts over dinner, when we heard the snap. Somewhere in the masterful bent wooden slats, a failure occurred. We kept pretending that it wasn’t broken, but in our heart we knew the truth. That is when the saw came out in Southwest France.


It was a simple screw job to remove the brokeback. One chewed screw thought otherwise. Enter the saw.

Now our chair is a stool. A wonderful stool that sits outside the kitchen supporting barn cats, small puddles and my crazy blague posts.


Things that are broken continue to be valuable if they were built with quality. This stool is extremely sturdy. I love sitting on it because there is not a moment in my mind that I worry that this former chair won’t support me. It is solid.

The maker of this furniture had seven boys and six girls. Only five boys survived. I’m guessing, in the 1820’s, this is the sort of move you made to lay down sturdy peeps. And I must say, word to that mutha.

K. It’s tub-time now. Our sturdy peeps are approaching their descend to leave us alone – er – go to bed. Tosca, who is semi-broken with her facial paralysis, has led yet another day of support for the family and our customers. She has also polished off Z’s amazing burger ( boo! for us! Yeah! for canines! )


Z and Tossy have a deal. All in the name of quality.

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