Hustle, pt. 1: Jiddo

My favorite second-hand furniture dealer, Hank of Hank's Alley in Tarrytown, looked me dead in the eye a few weeks ago and gruffed, "Honey, you got hustle."

The occasion was no more significant than a wander through the Alley, which resulted in my sorta baffling decision to buy this pair of salt and pepper shakers.

But Hank knows me well for selling my finds at rates that slowly add to my family's travel fund and give him plenty of room for profitable resale.

I accepted Hank's Rat Pack era observation appropriately, I thought, with a pouty smile and cartoonish eyelash flutter.

"Uh, I meant that as a compliment, Honey."

I waved my hand dismissively. "I take it as one, Hank. I come from a long line of hustlers."





I don't feel any hustle today. None. I need to get past my terror of eBay and Etsy and post these wares (and I don't mean the suitcases; I mean everything in these suitcases).

But um, I don't wanna. Maybe if I tell a story about my ancestors, veterans of the hustle, I'll motivate.

Jiddo

Yousef Moun-aye-er (an alternative transliteration of the Arabic name that captures the sound a bit better than the Frenchy looking "Monier"; roughly translated, the name means "Human Lighthouse") was raised in Qatana, an Ottoman garrison and dust-dry village some 20 miles west of Damascus. Talk about a dead-end existence. Yousef, a Catholic, was built like a Grizzly, which made him a target for threats and abuse from the local Muslim forces. Aged 12, Yousef and a few Christian friends decided to take what I like to call "One Big Risk" and run away to make their fortunes in "Amreeka."

Their journey--which crossed the Mediterranean Sea, France, and the Atlantic ocean--took years. They stowed away on an ocean liner, and when discovered, cleaned and hauled stuff around the ship for their food.

What no one told these boys, however, is that "Amreeka" is a big place, two continents actually. Their ship docked smack between both.

Yousef decided to head north to his Land of Freedom. His friends decided to stay in Spanish-speaking countries. As the joke goes, had Yousef stayed with his friends, we'd probably be millionaires and presidents of Central American countries.

Instead, teenage Yousef crossed into this country illegally, working for a traveling Mexican circus. I used to pretend that this meant he was a performer. My dad had to convince me that his dad had not swung from the flying trapeze as the circus paraded across the U.S. border.

Yousef had been behind the parade, sweeping up the animals' droppings. Especially memorable were the elephants.

In a fit of racist, disillusioned pique, thirteen-year-old me once shot back at my dad, "So, we didn't come through Ellis Island or anything? I'm the granddaughter of a towelhead wetback?"

My dad stared me down so that I held my breath. Then he released a rueful little chuckle. "Yes, I guess your Jiddo was a towelhead wetback. And he had hustle."

 

That's my daddy on Jiddo's lap, giving the world the reverse finger.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier

We're Playing With Broken Glass!

My husband--the Mountain Man, The Prince of the Forest--is the best ally this Happy Badger could desire.

That's my thesis. Here's some proof.

One hot June night, an apartment building that I pass by on my way to a local grocery store had this unusual, broke-down chair on the trash pile. At a glance, I could see that it was older than my octogenarian father.

I had to have it. But I didn't want to fix it to be a chair again.

I tore the thing to pieces that night, only keeping the chair back intact.

Then, I put the Mountain Man to work. Out came his favorite saw horses, which we found in the basement when we bought the place 13 years ago. He tidily sawed the legs off so that only the back above the seat line remained.

My goal: make this old chair back into a mirror and jewelry rack. Can you see what I saw in it?







Months passed. I looked up mirror-cutting on wikiHow, then I debated with myself. Should I pay Jimmy Donovan, our fine local glass cutter to cut two smaller mirrors out of a cracked wardrobe mirror I found in Pleasantville? (gosh, I just love Pleasantville's trash....) Should I take a shot at cutting a mirror by myself? More to the point, could I somehow convince The Man to do it for me?

Turns out the cliche is true: You just don't know until you ask. He was totally game.

First, we had to free the mirror from the frame. Usually, I grouse about non-trash "Trash" that I see weekly, but the people who threw this mirror out deserve praise. They had done multiple repairs before giving up, leaving eras of hot glue to cut through. I was glad I needed to salvage only two 12" x 5" pieces from this long mirror because I broke it in two more spots before I managed to pull off the last piece of framing.

I did, in fact, use the carbide steel glass cutter, just like the pros use, only I did it badly. My fantasies of making a stained-glass window are officially on hold.

I busted up still more usable mirror until I got one decent piece. Then, I handed the task over to The Man.

Even with my husband's strong and steady hand, we made one serious mistake. (Don't worry--it doesn't involve blood or releasing my fingernails from their fleshy moorings.) We used a square dowel instead of a round one to crack off the scored pieces. Ugh. No kidding, don't make the same mistake. Turns out that square dowels under the glass make lots of curved, triangularish shards on the scored edge.

Finally, we had two mirrors of the right size, more or less, but horribly jagged. The chair back offered no grooves to hide these edges.

Just as despair was setting in, The Man proved his noble, princely nature again by pulling out an electrical grinder and an extension cord and confidently declaring, "Let's take this project outside!"

As I directed a steady stream of water on the edge of the whirring grinder, I asked, "Isn't this how people die of electrocution?"



 

My Man laughed like the experimenting kid he used to be: "No. We're grounded anyway. C'mon, how can you not have fun? We're playing with broken glass!"

 

Wordsworth said it best: "The Child is father of the Man."

 

And, to my enormous relief, the grinding sort of worked. With the help of our handy hot-glue gun, we attached the pieces to the chair back/mirror frame. The goo disguises the rough edges pretty well.

 

Next time, I'll probably leave this work to the pros, like Jimmy Donovan,

but I'm really proud of our teamwork.

 

The Final Touches!

 

I added five brass screw-in hooks that I picked up when Christ Church cast off a bunch of stuff from their basement, plus two brass knobs that I claimed from an otherwise unredeemable curbed dresser in Sleepy Hollow village.

 

 

 

And then, since he's your ally, too, the Prince performed another good deed. He talked me out of painting the frame hot pink.

 

Bedhead and Jammies: the only way to Craft...

 

 

 

Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier



Let There Be Light...Shades

Visiting my family in Sacramento this summer, I tried to explain to my parents the most recent shift in my Careen....I know I should say career, but I aim for honesty.

My dad--bemused, bewildered, and baffled--summed it up like this: "So, I sent you to become a professor of literature at Columbia, and now you're a second-hand clothing and junk dealer?"

My mom, who was always less worried about my abandoned academic lifestyle, responded only to the issue of the piled-up hell that I've turned my basement and "children's playroom" into: "Honey, I think you have a problem."

They may be right.

This weekend, I realized something that I had not noticed over the past year.

My home is overrun with light shades.

I acknowledge that I have been picking them up all year from curbs and from sales, but as the wise ones say, "Seeing is a choice."

And this is what I now see...

 They've claimed a laundry basket.

 

 They're lounging all over the basement...

 

Bums, just sitting around on my chairs.

 

 

They appear to be breeding...and tiny mutants are showing up.

 

 Some are wily and cannot be contained.

 

 One has even snuck into my closet...

and it appears to be guarding a vintage Shirley Temple doll.

 

What should I do with these hollow, aimless jellyfish? I open the floor for discussion....

 

 

Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier

 

 

 

 

4 ways to spend $50 this weekend...and do some good!

Hmmmm, yes, the holidays are coming....
Although the reactions of family and friends would make a memorable post here at The Happy Badger, I've decided not to give them curb finds as Christmas gifts. I could, however, set up a whole holiday shop with the ornaments and artificial wreaths and trees I’m seeing on garbage piles.

Do you wanna save a buck and still do good with your gifts this season? I’ve got four solid ways to get the most for your moola.

1.   St. Barnabas Church Clothing Sale. Irvington, New York, Route 9.

NOTE THE HOURS. These volunteers will do what it takes to get you the goods. Respect!

 

Hello, biggest and best sale I’ve seen in years! Why have I missed you before? And who makes those tasty peanut butter & chocolate bars you sell in the snack booth by your well-stocked Xmas boutique?

Why is everybody so nice and well-behaved here?? I just
saw a pair of new Tod's men's driving shoes (retail $425) for $15!
 

St. Barnabas clearly believes in moving the goodies. Everything—everything—is already 50% off. The sale continues until Sunday evening, and they are still putting out clothes every night.  Westchester Friends: Get in the car now, and read the rest of this later!

I stuffed a massive boutique bag with new or like-new shoes, clothes, and accessories for my Man, my friends, and my kids for less than $50.

I've said it before, but I love flipping through the racks at thrift shops and church sales: the exercise soothes the Hunter-Gatherer part of my brain.

I made a tiny church volunteer nervous with my giggles when I found a girl's size 6 purple velvet pants embroidered with tiny white Eiffel Towers--still with $50 retail tag--for $2 and then paired it with this absurdly cute Oilily beret for 50 cents.

Yep, I'll never lose my little one in a crowd when she wears that ensemble.

See where the lady in khakis is standing? Those $15 Tod's shoes are right in front of her. And there's a huge men's section behind her, and to the right of the scarves is a rack of fab vintage coats and dresses, and beside that is a cute shoe boutique. This sale just goes on and on...

Know what I left behind for you? This gorgeous,  flawless size 12-14 Tadashi strapless maxi dress with butterflies on sheer silk. Cost: $25—about $300 less than retail. 

Ok, here it comes: “But, Badger, where would I wear this?”

This wise Badger replies only, “At that price, you should wear it to vacuum the house.”

 

2. Sandy Hook Promise. Survivors of unimaginable grief, the parents of Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT, have never wavered in their quest for justice and for protection from gun violence for the rest of America's school children. 

Their online store makes supporting their efforts remarkably easy. I donated $26 to the cause and received a limited edition OPI nailpolish as a thank you gift. I wore it for Halloween, but it'll look winter festive with alternating red nails, no?








3.    Eton. I worry (do you?) that the US is overdue for a weather disaster. This year, I’m giving a loved one, and myself, the gift of preparedness with Eton’s hand crank and solar chargers for phone and tablet. An emergency crank radio might sound like the least hip gift ever, but Eton manages to make it look good.

FRX3--American Red Cross. Love this thing!

Eton is doing good things with my dollars, too: their website’s front page states that until November 27, they’ll donate 25% of every webstore purchase, plus $140,000 of products, to disaster relief in the Philippines.

I’ve given to Red Cross to help in the Philippines, too, but it’s nice to see Eton put my money where its mouth is.

So, browse their site; you’ll be surprised by what you can get for as little as $15.
(Disclosure time! Yes: I bought something from them. NO: not getting paid by them for this. HELP: can you tell me how I could get paid for this review…?  

4.      The W@tercooler: Holiday Pop-Up Shop, Friday 11/15, 5-9 pm. And now for the shameless self-promotion portion of this post. This Third Friday (aka today) Rivertown locals, including this Happy Badger, will take over The W@tercooler to offer you fine, hand-made awesomeness for body and soul. 

I’ll be selling high-end clothes for thrift shop prices, along with my own upcycled game board magnet sets, weirdly adorable bookmarks, and funky date night wallets made from vintage audio cassettes. 

Depending on the item, I will donate 20-100% of sales to The Howson Children's Fund, which supports two local girls who lost their mother to domestic violence. And, I do ship!

 

     Like what you see (the wallets, not the toenails...)? These are also available at Whimsies on Broadway in Tarrytown!

 

These pretties are on sale at A Nu Toy Store in Tarrytown, 

and I'll have loads more with me at The W@tercooler.

 

So, climb those stairs next to Mr. Nick’s Pizza on Broadway, hang out at Jenifer Ross’

masterpiece of comfiness with your friends and neighbors, support local vendors, and get the

jump on your gift shopping.

 

You could do worse with your time and money…like go to The Mall. Bah-Humbug!

 

Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier

  

 

 

 

Give It Away, Give It Away, Give It Away NOW

If there were a market in second-hand, withered jack-o-lanterns, I'd get rich with this week's curb offerings.

 We've got to COMPOST in these parts, too.

As it is, the goods just keep finding me...

After more than 30 years in the same house, a great friend from my private school teaching days is moving. She's staying in the neighborhood, but whether the destination is near or far, the process of sorting and packing is the same kind of torture.

I'm a low-level believer in the spirit of things; I honor the memories they contain. If I did not, I certainly would not pick up some of the things I find on the curb: heavy old steamer trunks and battered suitcases, vintage but incomplete children's toys, ice skates...have you seen me skate? Adds new meaning to the title "Ice Follies": "And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, Tall Awkward Women...on ice!"

Anyway...

This friend is, I think, a high-level believer in the spirit of things. I feel pain watching her eyes silently reflect each item's story--the hands that gave now grown or gone--before she sighs and gently lays it in a box for me to take away. At times, I feel like the Attic and Basement Kevorkian, a term I mean playfully, though my hubby (probably rightly) finds it utterly appalling.

I do believe I'm doing my friend a service. I hope someone will do the same for me when it's time to say goodbye to this home.

That said, she has A LOT of stuff, more than I can fit into my own basement, which already looks like the spare parts warehouse for the set of Sanford and Son.

No joke: on humid NY days, my hair looks just like Lamont's.

Each of the four loads I have collected so far have been dispersed between my favorite places to Take the Excess:

Some went to The Cherry Door,

 

 some went to Goodwill

A couple walkers ended up at Tarrytown's Neighborhood House. I needed crutches after 9/11, and they gave me some for free. Good to know that someone else won't have to pay for an essential item.



 

Why have a minivan if I don't stuff it so full of things that  complete strangers give me startled or dismayed looks when I open the back?

 

I have kept two things for my home: a bookcase my friend painted long ago

 

and a lamp from her children's bedroom

 

Some things can never be turned into Trash.


Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier

End Game: DIY Magnet Sets

Most moms I know have lost many a game piece over the course of their children’s lives. Instead of losing your mind trying to find lost pieces that are hiding under your furniture, try repurposing what’s left of the set.

I strongly recommend doing this project when the kids are out of the house, or you WILL have to deal with Someone Small’s tantrum while you are holding a hot hot-glue gun.

This is not a hard craft, but if you don’t want to make them yourself, well…you can always get some from me and help send my kids to England and Sweden next summer!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For this project you will need the following:

Game board pieces
Small magnets (sold at Michael’s or Home Depot)
A hot-glue gun (ditto, and also for the rest of these items)
Mod Podge
Small foam (or regular) paint brush
Cardboard box (opened up), plastic kitchen bag, or lots of wax paper—for final acrylic spray coats
ALSO USEFUL: a safety razor blade or sharp scissors, magnetized drying racks, Clear Acrylic Sealing Spray…and a well-ventilated space

 

Ugh, here come those darned directions….

1.      Line up your game pieces, flipped over so the sharper edge of the machine-die stamp faces up.

2.      Plug in the hot-glue gun. While you wait for that tell-tale smell of skin-scorching danger, prepare the magnets. If you buy strong magnet blocks, wipe them off first because I promise you this: they’re filthy.

If you’re looking to make decorative magnets (aka, too weak to hold up a photo on the fridge), buy magnetic tape or magnetic sheets with adhesive on the back. These sets are always available at Michael’s or at AC Moore’s—bring your 20% coupon because you know that everything's 20% overpriced anyway.
Trim magnetic roll or sheet with scissors or safety razor blade to fit just within the edges of the game pieces.
DOUBLE BONUS! No glue-gun, just peel and stick. Now, Jump 2 Steps Ahead!

3.      Blob some hot glue on to the back of a magnet, then squish it on to the prepared game piece. Always try to center the magnet, but for goodness’ sake, it hardly matters.

4.      When all of the pieces are glued and cool, flip them over. (Did you unplug that hot-glue gun? DO IT NOW before you unintentionally brand yourself!)

5.      Slather a coat or two of Mod Podge on the front and edges of each game piece. It’s easy to hold the little magnets when you do this part, but beware of setting these pieces too close to each other.

 

I’ve had two (and once, three!) freshly Podged pieces leap off magnetized trays and cling to each other in ways that would infuriate a school dance chaperone, fouling up both magnets and glue. Darned magnets these days, no respect….

6.      Let the Mod Podge dry for the recommended time, whatever that is.
You could quit right there. The pieces will be nice-looking and usable. Only thing is, the Mod Podge tends to feel slightly tacky for a long time, like waaaay longer than the official drying time. So, yeah, they can stick to each other and play tug-of-war with each other’s Podge layers… and someone always loses that game.

 

7.      Want to go that last step? Line up your new game magnets on an open cardboard box (or flattened kitchen garbage bag, or wax paper sheets). Spray Acrylic Sealer on the non-magnet side of each and every one.

If you have more than ten pieces to spray, expect to get as high as those glue-sniffers you tried so hard to ignore in high school. Even in a well-ventilated room with all windows wide open, my ears rang for ten minutes after I was done.

 

That’s it!  If you want to give them as gifts and you have kids, hide them now. Otherwise, before you know it, you’ll be looking for that lost game piece magnet under every item of furniture and kitchen appliance.

 

Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier

 

DIY: Party Dress Chair

I have not been making hay while the sun shines. This glorious autumn, I have, in fact, been napping while the sun shines.

Yesterday's cold snap woke me back up. The days of outdoor sanding and spray paint are at an end this year in the Northeast. Time to move indoors and finish what I started....

One August evening, I had a real win-win kind of night. After a great date with my hubby, I dropped off our kids' favorite teen-aged babysitter at her home and returned to my home with several fascinating items from her neighbor's curb.

One was a single straight-back chair. Intriguing lines, but with a hideous yellow-toned glaze and seriously chipped veneer seat panels.

First things first: strip off the seat and apply paint remover to the glaze. GLOVES and GLASSES, Friends, are essential. One drop of paint stripper will burn a hole right through your heaviest pair of jeans in about a minute. It will eat your skin for an afternoon snack.

I envisioned a kitcheny 50s turquoise blue for the frame. Ikea's been doing a lot of this lately, too, so I figured it would be available for regular mortals. Not so, but I was able to buy a tube of tint in the right color and then add it to a base paint. Again, Wallauer's employees rock!




After paint-stripper and thorough sanding. Mixing the color tint into the base paint--super easy. (Note the FrankenGrill in the background, glaring at me with accusing eyes.)

Two coats of paint and a different camera angle, showing even more of the chaos that is my back patio.



On to the seat cover. I was feeling the goofiness of this chair now, so I decided to echo that in a polka dot pattern. Since polka dots were cool a few years ago for clothing, but not for upholstery, I plowed through a few Goodwill stores. Two girl's size 16 party dresses looked right.

To get a sense of what potential buyers might like, I posted this pic with this caption:
 "Two girl's dresses. One must die to make a seat cover. Choose."

Friends got emotional about this imperative, and we had a lively discussion of market tastes and 80s kitsch going for a while. But, really, there was no choice in my mind. The pink had to die to make the chair live.

Last night, I finally got to work.

The materials: 1. Vintage (pronounce it this way: "Old") cotton batting, 2. Staple gun, 3. (not shown) Fabric shears.

 

 

 Our victim: The party dress. Relax, it won't feel a thing...

First off, the built-in white cotton underskirt. It made an excellent base to contain and reshape the seat's old batting.

Treat the fabric like a gift box and get wrapping! Tuck your fingers in...or else.

 

 Ready for layer two.

 

 I checked the dots to make sure that they lined up evenly on both sides of the chair. No tape measures for me, but I think I did OK. Symmetry counts, so if you want to try this, pull the fabric evenly for each staple and switch from side to side of the seat.

 

 A staple here...

 

A fold there....

An unexpected staple to my stomach.... KIDDING! But, please, don't imitate my style. I am just glad that this move didn't go terribly wrong.Probably that stool was the worst work surface ever. Anyway, I trimmed off the excess fabric with the fancy shears, shot in a bunch more staples for fun, and here it is!

What a cutie. Don't you want this in your daughter's room? In yours?? Fine with me!

In the end, I know I made the right choice between the two party dresses. The other dress had dots that were too small.

Now, I wonder if I can convince someone to wear what's left of the dress as a top with a tiny peplum look...

 

 

Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier