Fix It Up Friday 02.26.10

I have a confession - at heart, I haven't changed much from my first-grader self. Deep inside (and occasionally not so deep and rather apparent to random bystanders), I am still the little girl who didn't want anyone using her crayons because then they wouldn't have that pristine, pointy look. I want everything sharp and crisp. Lined up in neat rows if at all possible. Which is why I had a feeling of stark terror when I put a scratch in my own table. For those of you who missed our wild, swinging newlywed days, let me tell you that the search for furniture was akin to the quest for the holy grail - but no one ate monkey brains. We went to store after store for weekends on end to find just the right thing at just the right price. When the decision was finally made and the furniture came home with us, I thought nothing looked more fabulous. Our little furniture family grew and grew, but I loved each piece uniquely. And in one swift move I SCRATCHED it. Marked it for life.

See, it's awful. And here's the culprit.

I broke out my old standby, the Old English. But this was no ordinary scratch and it just laughed. There was only one thing to do. It was time for the big guns.

A little coloring, a little Kleenex buffing and VIOLA.

I'll always have know what I did to my little wooden friend, but at least now we can both hold our heads up. Any improvement at the very least, no?

** NOTE: All Sharpie usage was accomplished during nap time, lest the mini-OCD-me think that coloring the furniture with Sharpies was really the way we solve our problems around here. That would downplay the important role of chocolate in problem solving.