Dresser is Done!

I am finally done refinishing the dresser, which has been lovingly dubbed, "Dewey's Drawers," (Rocco didn't get the joke, but I thought it was a riot). To be accurate, it was finished a few days ago, but I misplaced my last surviving pair of reading glasses (I buy them in bulk, and lose them in bulk), and couldn't write until today, when I finally found my glasses on a shelf in my closet. No, I don't do a lot of reading in the closet, don't know why they were in the closet, will never know why I find my glasses in such odd places—never by a book, or my  laptop, or anywhere that'd obvious to leave them . . . I finished it on what would have been my dad's (Dewey!) 70th birthday—June 15—without even trying! (I am so bad at dates; can hardly remember what day it is, much less if a significant event had occurred on the day). 

I know I showed the "before" pictures of Dad's Drawers in a previous blog, but I wanted to include them again, to show the mesmerizing (well, to me, anyhow) difference—after the dust cleared, the stain dried, the echo of curse words faded and the piece was back in my house, ready to be put to use. My current "unmentionables" drawer is overflowing and in dire need of new accommodations, other than my closet floor . . . 

I wish I knew more of the history of this dresser. I love knowing at least a little bit about a piece I have, if at all possible. Makes me feel closer to the one(s) who owned it, loved it, had it as part of their life on earth. I have an antique china hutch with the gorgeous curved bubbled glass panes; it belonged to my maternal grandparents, who got it from my grandfather's parents, along with other "heirloom" pieces (my grandma never did like it, my mom tells me—she said it was all just "old stuff"). I've had it in my possession since I was in college, and I can honestly say it has moved at the very least 14 times (and each time, my mom dies a little inside, afraid that each move is going to be curtains for the fragile piece). I also had a bedroom set that belonged to them, as well, a wedding gift from my grandmother's parents. Her father died just a few days before the wedding, so all the wedding preparations—food, etc. were used for a funeral instead of a wedding. I had the set for years, then gave it back to my mom, after I got married. I never got around to finishing the head and footboards for some reason now lost on me, so guess what my next refinishing project will be . . .

Anyhow, back to my "new" dresser." My dad got it after my grandma died, and then my brother, Kurt, ended up with it and his daughter used it until recently, but that's all I know about it. I don't know how old it is, what kind of wood it's made of, who made it (I can see markings along the edges of the mirror that appear to be from a carpenter's tool—I'd bet all I have that it's hand-made). Maybe one of my aunts will come forward with a little more info on it . . .  Anyhoo, it's getting late, my eyes are closing on me, my fingers are lead, and I just wanted to share these pics quickly, before heading to bed. I think it turned out pretty dang good, if I do say so myself . . . and I think my grandparents and my dad would be proud. . .

The dresser, with mirror detached . . .

Serious wear 'n' tear evident on the dresser top . . .

Front of the dresser . . .

At this point, I've had it—my fingers are cramping, my nails are getting all ragged and torn, my back aches from stooping over and am ready to take a can of kerosene and torch the whole damn thing . . .

Just kidding . . .

The mirror, sanded and ready for staining. . .

Finally, back in the house, ready to be functional again! I am so happy with the results! I debated keeping the old hardware or not. It's not real brass, is kind of dented and scratched, but the patina-ed, weathered old pulls are charming, in rustic way, and makes me think of all the hands that have grasped them . . . 

Detail of top edge of mirror—I'm guessing grooves across wood are from carpenter's tool . . .