This is a post about retro furniture…well way retro furniture…that sort that falls under antiques in most people’s books.
I have a spool bed. It looks like this except…it is missing a spindle. It is missing a spindle because I wiggled it like a loose tooth until it broke when I was a child. We don’t currently use this bed. Most members of this family don’t see why anyone would use this headboard. It is scratched. It has paint flecks. It only fits a “3/4″ bed. But, it is the bed I spent most of my childhood in. It is the bed that I would lay down with my babies in at night. It has a story every time I look at it.
I have a rococo camel back couch. It is stripped down to duckcloth and a little padding. It needs to be reupholstered again. It lived in my mother’s living room my entire life before it came to live at my house. As a child, it was covered in blue velvet with buttons. It has a flower carving that attaches to the top of the sofa. I ran my fingers over it a million times, fidgeting as a child. I also polished it once a week. The right side of it, when you sit on it…that is where Santa left my presents each Christmas. It has lived in my garage, waiting for me to love it again.
There is a slab of marble from a table in my mother’s living room. The table that supported it broke at some point. The legs were spindly and not helped by being hit by vacuum cleaners, run under, over, and through by dogs, cats and yes, me. My mom put it on one of those plaster pedestals that some folks use for coffee tables or end tables when the legs to the table couldn’t be repaired.
There is a pair of chairs… a ladies and gentleman’s chair. They look rather like the ones in that picture. They were my great-grandmother’s. They came to my parent’s living room when she passed away. I sat in them many an hour talking with my parents, my friends, my mother’s friends. They have lived in my garage since the chairs moved here.
Then there are the empire mahogany pieces…two sideboards, a gentleman’s dresser, a dining room table. These also came to live with us after my great-grandmother passed away. One sideboard lives in the dining room with the table. One sideboard lives in the Florida room. The gentleman’s dresser lives in the Florida room. They have seen some random use.
There is a secretary…black painted wood. It is newer…though not “new.” It is also incredibly simple. Three drawers, the flip out desk, interesting cubbies where I found old receipts, love notes, etc. Above that are shelves with glass doors. “Lawyers shelves” my mother called them. I kept my Aunt Caroline’s dog collection in there.
I have a dresser. Flame wood veneer. Missing pieces of veneer. Huge mirror. Then the dark cherry four post bed. Cracked headboard, doesn’t fit any normal American mattress.
I have an armoire. Refinished in 100 degree heat with blood, sweat, chemical burns and tears by a daddy who loved me. Oak. Heavy as sin.
Then there are incidental pieces, a washstand, an oval side table. There are even two pieces I don’t love…my great grandmother’s dressing table, with the broken drawer, and the broken marble top. A yellow gentleman’s chair.
The problem is…we need to load a truck and move. My furniture is big.
Ok, not really celebrating but we are indeed in California. The cookbook I tucked in my suitcase, the Pocket Cook Book, by Elizabeth Woody 1942, has some California recipes. Ok, it has recipes that use the word California in them. I thought that would be a good way to get ready for the 
