With my cherry-wood dropleaf table? OH yes.
A cheaper way to go about doing this might be to get some aluminium chairs like these--
--spray them with clear lacquer, hand-blow a bit of black glitter on them, and spray them with a clear, high-gloss coat of that crap you put on lawn furniture. What is that stuff called, again?
I've repainted Grandma's plant stands with them pieces of furniture with it so far, and plan on doing her old lawn furniture and a log for Elvis with it, too. And Dad did the interior of the birdbath. I'll have to ask him how it went. It looks great, it dries to waterproof (important for Elvis, who poops indiscriminately with regard to the topography), it comes in all sorts of colors, and it takes like an hour to do.
Or you could just skip the glitter and go with the high-gloss coat.
In other news, I went to visit my table the other day and was astonished to find that I could live without it.
It was lovely, it was charming, it was a wonderful size and shape and color. But I could live without it.
It really threw me. So much so that it was something of a cause for concern: wanting that table had given me something to work toward, a reason d'etre, even, and now, lacking that, I am back to seething in my own malcontent and buying little baubles.
Well, enough of that. I have made my resolution for the year, and I will live in its shade. In the meantime, I had a dream the other night that I decided it was time to clean out all my jewellery-making supplies, make what jewellery I wanted, and organize the rest of the materials and put them away. (Right now they're all sitting in white plastic baskets atop the gentleman's chest in my room, which my mother and I call the bead chest, since the entire thing is packed with beading stuff.)
In addition, I have a dangerously bulging file in my filing cabinet labelled "Neat Stuff to Make into a Scrapbook Someday," and yesterday I bought (on the advice of God, through a best-of-three coin toss) a self-adhesive photo album. It will be the first of several, I suspect, but it saves me hours of gluing and explaining, and I will be able to store the book in the file drawer.
I won't (or can't) explain it, but it's one of the things I need to do to move on--to become that grave, silly, wise, funny, kind, beautiful woman I need to be to be ready to handle Oregon. There are things I can do to get ready that do not cost enormous quantities of money.
The self-adhesive album is the first unnecessary thing I've bought in a while that I feel has been money well spent.
That and that new Neutrogena foundation. That's good stuff.