In my past blogs, I have always talked about the women that have inspired me. This particular post is more of an ode to the creative men that have influenced me . My father and his father have always had a knack for skilled carpentry. My Dad can look at the skeleton of a farm house and turn it into something really special. His father, obviously taught him. My Grandfather gave me a taste of woodworking at a young age. I have fond memories of building toys, painting nutcrackers, birdhouses, and wooden signs with him. I remember sitting up on a stool at his workbench in his basement workshop listening to stories about World War II and how he first met my Grandmother while Bing Crosby was playing in the background. When I came home for Christmas one year, my Papa showed me pictures of these refinished dressers, rocking chairs, and chests that he had picked up at the junk yard. He would breath life into the old tattered pieces of furniture. They would glow when he was done with them! I told him over and over again how much I wanted to learn how to do what he did. A few years later, my Grandfather died of leukemia. His passing was very difficult for me as I was closer to him than most. It is my biggest regret that I lost the opportunity to learn his techniques, not for passing on the trade, but the bonding experience. I’ve since begged boyfriends, exes, and guy friends to teach me how to do it, but no one has ever really taken the time. Fatigued with desperation, I finally picked up a book appropriately named Furniture Makeovers by Barb Blair. I have just completed my first furniture makeover. I found a simple, easy one for a first time: a good ol’ Goodwill stool. I learned how to strip, prime, paint, and finish. My Grandfather was a traditionalist when it came to refurbishing wooden pieces, I decided to go a different route. I know he might not approve of my bold colors, but I know he would definitely be proud of the quality of the work.