When Life throws stuff at you instead of politely handing it to you, it’s time to move your hands. The more the hands move, the less time the mind has to lurk in a dark place.

I found these beautifully ugly old chairs in an antique store. (I think “antique,” in this case, is a euphemism for “junk.”) They reminded me of the chairs that had been abandoned in the back yard of our shotgun house when I was a child. Those chairs were ugly, too, but Mama painted them a forest green to give them a second chance at life.

Sometimes we all need a second chance at life. Or a third. Or a millionth. I was encouraged, rather than daunted, when I purchased these chairs. My bereaved mind would get a break from itself.

First, Norm soaked the bolts over night and removed them for me.

Next, I stripped the chairs of their paint with a commercial paint stripper. It took three tries to completely remove the six layers of paint on them (from oldest to newest): black, pink, light green, dark green, yellow, white.

Then I sanded them by hand with 220-grit sandpaper.

I’m not afraid of power tools, so used a 100-grit paper with an electric sander to smooth the metal as much as humanly possible.

I rinsed off all of the grit with plain water then began coating the surfaces with Rustoleum spray primer.

Finally, I put the finishing touch of paint – Rustoleum glossy almond.

Here is what they look like today. My rusty brain didn’t think at all – my hands took charge.

I didn’t even have to whistle while I worked. ♥