One thing you may not know about me is that I detest working with tools. Yet, oftentimes I must. A carpenter I am not. Too exact and always trouble; nothing ever goes smoothly. It turns into the snowball effect and I just can't stand it. Frustrating is not the term I'd like to use. (Oh, and forgot to mention the time I hit my thumbnail three times in a row with a hammer.) When I go to the hardware stores, I am asking for this little thingy that goes into that kind of thingy that looks like this (my hands trying to draw a shape)...
Anyway. This is an old Adirondack-style smoking table with traces of haint blue paint (keeps ghosts at bay.) Itinerants used to make this sort of thing in exchange for food, etc. The little cabins held the smoker's tools of the trade. At some point, someone painted the roof of said cabin and put a transfer of a robin on it. I've never seen one painted so. I have two left from my antiquing days. They are all different in design, but basically always have a little cabin on top.
This one needed a few repairs and thankfully, I didn't wish I had a shotgun to blow it to bits like I did with curtain rods last week. The previous owners put some kind of heavy duty wall bolt thingys in the wall to hold up curtain rods. They could have held up a ton of bricks instead of curtains. Working on a ladder, high over my head, it took me one and a half hours to remove four (??!!) screws. I kid you not. Breathe deep. I left the job with four more to remove.
Whatever. This is going to the booth today. I love folk art, but the mighty dollar is calling my name.