Over the river and through the woods.....

Ta-da! I am officially renaming myself the Goddess of Glaze. Mrs. Glaze. Glaze-abulous. I know you are impressed by my crafting skills. It took me all of 5 hours to finish my project, and I would say that I did it in record time considering the following:
1. I had completely no idea what I was doing.
2. Glaze is the consistency of maple syrup left out in the car all day.
3. David's hobby room is not well ventilated- the dizziness, heat rash, and hair glued to the sides of my head in my peripheral vision did nothing to adhere me from my goal- French furniture or bust.
Upon Big D's arrival home from work, I proudly showed him to the hobby room and waiting patiently for the little gasp of shock, followed soon by admiration for what I had single handidly managed to accomplish. "It looks a little thick." Yes, this was his response to which I curtly set up a mathematical equation, so that he could understand all the variables one needs to consider. A + B, minus F for error probability, plus C for fume inhalation, divided by E for equal portions of paint thinner and diet coke (for energy, of course) = you'd better like it or...... well, nothing; because that stuff is dried onto that dresser like cheese whiz at a Super Bowl party. I decided it would grow on him if we could only move into the guest room, upstairs. David ruled out the 15 steps of thigh-burning, Richard Simmon's loving stairs and decided that out the garage, up the drive-way, around the house, up the gigantor steps, down the hall and into the bedroom was the best bet for ensuring safety. After one try to simply move it off of the paper I had layed down on the floor, David realized he would have to create a mathematical equation of his own. We pulled all the drawers out and carried them up the stairs. David is right- those stairs are steep.
With empty dresser is tow, we baby step our way out of the garage and stop at the bottom of the driveway. If you have been to my house, you know what daunting task lays before us. (Cue the Rocky music)

With gnats swarming, craving the smell of my paint thinner, diet coke combination, we shuffle-step up the driveway. And I don't mean the cool shuffle-step performed by Janet Jackson at her Rhythm Nation concert. Upon reaching the gigantor steps, I was feeling strong and confident. I was tough. I banged my shin on the step going up. I was going down fast. As David hustled me in the house, limping and cursing German made furniture of pure walnut, I was ready to call it a day. David reminded me to keep my voice down as I might alarm our new neighbors who live at the end of the culdasac, across from us. I stopped short on that note, but regained my fury after realizing that our weeds are higher than the former porta-potty that once graced our drive. We were invisible. They liked us then. They will like us know. Once in the guest room, David exclaimed the greeting I had so desired earlier in the night, "I think it is growing on me!" Great, I thought. I'm glad you like it. Limping away, I realized this: paint thinner would be a good substitute for nail polish remover, should I ever run out.