Striking Gold!

I love garage sales! I just wanted to say that loudly and freely to the world. I remember when I was younger I would have just died of embarrassment, if anyone saw me at a sale. I’d duck down to the floorboards of the car, while my mom was shopping. Now, on the other hand…I will hold up traffic to get to those treasures. I have even trained my girls to look for those beautiful signs. I have really pushed that yard sales and thrift shops are good places to save money. I think it has worked, because since they were about the age of two they’ve called Goodwill “The Treasure Store”. And still beg to stop.

Anyway…Memorial and Labor Day weekends are great yard sale weekends in our area. I have done a post about it in the past. This last holiday weekend I was pickier than usual. I normally collect lots of goods, but considering last year I sold almost everything we owned I proceeded with caution. I tried to find furniture items mostly. Things I would definitely use or could upcycle and sell. One sale we pulled up in the drive and I saw stars!

Many people have bucket lists of things they want to do over their life time. Well…I have one for garage sales.

I have looked years and years for these vintage lawn chairs. I know there are reproductions, but there’s nothing like the real thing. When I spotted them I had to contain my excitement. If the lady selling knew how badly I wanted them she might not come down on the price. I’m not much of a negotiator, but something got into me that day. There were only two chairs (I wish there had been more) and she wanted $10 a piece for them (which is an extremely good price). I felt like I couldn’t justify spending $20 for lawn chairs that I didn’t need. However…I could possibly justify $15. I was playing psychological games with myself…Dave Ramsey would be harassing me if he were there. I looked causally at the lady, knowing this is the second day of her sale. And she still had lots to sell. So…I blurted out “WILL YOU TAKE $15 FOR BOTH”! She paused and sighed and said, “yes”. Now they are mine and I love them.

I’m going to sand them down and paint them bright red. I’m hoping to do it today, but that depends on the rain. As soon as I’m done I’ll post these beauties.

Chicken Coop Remodel Part 2

The chicken coop make-over took about two weeks. Working at part-time speed. And let me tell you... I was more than glad when it was over. Dad was too. I think if I added or changed one more thing he would have disowned me.

First thing I have to say about my father is that nothing he uses goes to waste. He tore down a fence someone was getting rid of and has recycled every bit of it. From the recycled fence he added slats to the doors and completely covered the back side.

I painted the inside and out. My mother thought red would be a great color for the inside. Needless to say...we found out later chickens are frightened by the color red (which I will tell you about that in another post). The outside color of the coop matches the color of our house.

Dad pulled the chicken wire off and I spray painted it black.You wouldn't believe what a difference a small change like this made. 

I bought a 9x5 roll linoleum flooring, for easy cleaning.  Dad attached it with  washers and screws for easy removal.

After painting, we cut a large branch and hung it from the ceiling for the birds to roost.

I added old wood crates for their beds (until we build nesting boxes). Dad attached a shutter for easy entry. And lastly to complete, I added a farm house picture. 

So there you have it!


Have a restful night.

Chicken Coop Remoldel Part 1

The girls and I have wanted chickens for years.Thanks to the Fraley family and my extremely handy father, we were able to get them this year.

The Fraley's gave us a great chicken coop they weren't using anymore.

Before

Dad and I gave the coop some TLC...

Part two tomorrow...

Long Sabbatical...

   

Hello Readers. I think it has been forever since we've talked. Hope all of you are doing well. The girls and I have been through great changes over the last year.