I found this stool in my parent's shop when we were going through all their old junk one day. It was my Pa Pa's and it had been sitting out there for years just getting dirty and falling apart. I asked my Mama if I could have it and she told me no. Then I asked her if I could take it and refinish it for her. After thinking on it for a while, she reluctantly gave it to me. I know she didn't want to give it away. I could feel it. She made up some lame excuse of how she didn't have room for it in her house even if I brought it back to life so I should just keep it. After I brought it home with me, I started scheming. What if I refinished it such a way that if I gave it back to her, she wouldn't want to part with it again?
After lots of brainstorming, the idea hit me when I was looking at woven stool seats. What if I brought the memory of my Pa Pa into the stool?
My Pa Pa worked for Mobil for years. The Flying Red Horse (we NEVER call it Pegasus) has been kinda like a family trade mark for us. Whenever we see it, we shout out every time "Look! There's the Flying Red Horse!" and then we stare in awe, while paying our own kind of homage to it. Remember our staycation in Dallas over the summer? We all had to have our picture taken with it.
I did some digging on ebay and found some really cool patches. I chose my favorite one, bought some canvas belts and got to work.
I really love the way it turned out. I thought about painting the wood red, but decided against it. My parents both value antique wood in its natural state so I thought my mom would rather me keep the wood its original color. I did recondition it though. The wood had really dried out over the years.
I wrapped this baby up and crossed my fingers that she wasn't going to kill me* for taking the original seat off!
*and I'm crossing my fingers now that she's not going to kill me for putting these Christmas morning pictures up on the blog! But the story just isn't the same without them. So, if you don't hear from me in a few days, send a search party out for me ;)
As soon as she opened it, the tears started rolling. From both of us. And I'm not a crier. As soon as my grandma figured out what it was, she started crying too.
I think we know from that smile that she loved it. Even my Daddy said I did a good job on it. And that means a lot, because it's hard to impress that guy. And you know what's funny? She said that she would've liked the wood painted!