Do I Have To? Shorten Window Blinds

It's March and time for another installment of "Do I Have To?" the whiners way to get un-fun stuff done. Since I've started this monthly feature, I've painted some trim, organized a part of the basement, and pulled up carpet staples. This time, the chore is:

Shortening window blinds.

Everybody all together now: YAWN.

If the world were perfect, all of us would have the cash for custom-made window shades and blinds.

But my kitchen window blinds are pre-made and purchased at the home-improvement big box store. At least they can be cut to the width you want in the store while you wait. But they usually only come in one length: super long.

The ones in question at my house were in the kitchen window over the sink, and 60 inches long. That's a lot of extra length for my 38 inch window openings, and whether the blinds were open or closed, there was a lot of bunchy gathers on the window, all the time.

Not having blinds was out of the question in this window, which faces due west and heats the kitchen up like one of Dante's levels of hell in the summer. (A separate blog post would be about how much I hate these leaky, horrible casement windows, but lets just tackle one thing at a time, shall we?)

So here's a step-by-step how-to for shortening blinds.

1.

You'll need a pair of household utility scissors (you don't want the nice sewing scissors for this job), a glue gun, and a tape measure. If you need to protect your floors from some light do-it-yourself action, you'll also need a drop cloth, like I have here. The largest uninterrupted floor space in my house is in the dining room, so that's where this kind of monkey business usually happens.

2.

Let the blind out to its full length. This is easier to do BEFORE you take them down, so do it first. No really, I'm not just hiding the dirty dishes.

3.

Take 'em down. Mine are held to the mounting brackets by a wing nut on each side, and this is fairly typical of stick or bamboo blinds. Make sure you have a handy spot to stash the hardware while you're doing the job. 

4.

Lay the blinds down on your work space upside down, or with the backside facing up. Here you'll notice a system of cords and rings that are attached to the back of the shade, and run through the pulleys at the top of the shade to pull them up. The last ring on the cords leaves about 8 inches of shade at the bottom.

5.

Make sure the pull cords in the front of the shade are pulled up and out of the way during this entire process. These you do NOT want to cut.

6.

Here's a close up of the cord system. It consists of a braided strand with loops that go through each metal ring on the back of the blind, and the cord that is pulled to draw the blind up. You can see how heat and UV exposure is already causing the blind backing to crack and deteriorate.

7.

Measure your window, and then the blind. My window opening is 38 inches long, and that's how long I want the FINISHED blind to be. Cut the cord system there.

8.

The nearest metal ring loops above my chosen finish length are at about 33 inches down the length of the blind. The draw cord (the plain brown cord on the left in this photo above) now must be knotted to this loop.

9.

Make a knot, without pulling the cord tighter or making it loose. I wish I'd paid more attention in Girl Scouts. This is just a simple double overhand. Do this on either side of the blind. (My blind only had two sets of draw cords on the back. Wider blinds will have three or four. Repeat this step across the whole blind.) The looped braid should still have its loop in the metal ring. You can cut off excess, leaving about one inch ends.

10.

Flip the blind over to the front so you can see the sticks and slats. You want to give yourself a generous amount of extra for the cutting and hemming process, so add at least four inches, like I did here. I'm cutting the threads of the blind between the slats nearest to 42 inches for my 38 inch finished length.

11.

Start unraveling the vertical threads that weave the blind together, and remove slats and sticks for a few inches, until you have some length of threads, like this:

12.

Tie knots on each vertical row, to prevent further unraveling. At this point the blind should be 1 to 2 inches longer than your finished length.

14.

Now, trim the ends off the knots, and any backing that was left hanging down. The backing was really shedding lots of fibers, so I was glad I put down the drop cloth.

15.

Flip the blind back over to the back side again. Find the nearest "fold" in the slats and sticks to your finished measurement, and be generous with the hot glue gun. Please be careful. It took me a few mishaps, swearing swears I didn't even know I knew, to understand that a "high temperature" glue gun, by golly, is really $%^# hot.

Fold it over and press firmly. Sometimes a few strings of glue will pop out the front, but once it cools they are easy to strip off.

16.

Rehang. This looks much smoother and less bulky. The blind on the left looks a little shortened, but that's because of the crank-handle at the bottom of the window getting in the way.

Next month I hope to do an outdoor "Do I Have To?" Then again, it is the Midwest. It's best not to bet on the weather here. See you in April for the next installment!

Target Bargains: Pillows

I made a quick run to Target last weekend. Don't get excited. It wasn't one of those fun trips. It was one of those "I need toilet paper, shampoo, and a multi-pack of little boys' socks, and how in the world did I walk out of here $75 poorer just buying routine stuff?"

Even when I'm there for the boring stuff, I'm a clearance end-cap prowler. This time I found these: 

My old sofa cushions were looking tired. They have a right to be, because they get thrown on the floor and used as footballs on a daily basis. These have some of the colors in my living room (greens, ivory, and brown) with some extra thrown in (terra cotta and sky blue). They look nice and cozy on my super dark brown sofa, which tends to suck all the light out of the living room (its only down side).

The best part? They were $5 each. No kidding.

To be honest, I'm not sure if they will stay in the living room. I'm not sure if they completely "work." But $5 is way less than most uncovered pillow inserts cost, so really I couldn't go wrong with these, even if  I end up recovering them.

And they do pick up the same colors as items I have planned for the basement recreation room for the boys:

They "go" with these retro lamps and fabric remnant as well. So if they don't stay in the living room long term, there are other options. Two pillows for $10. Now I wish I could get toilet paper, shampoo, and boys' socks for just a Hamilton. But even then it wouldn't be as much fun.

Kitchen Revamp: Part I

I can't honestly call this kitchen project a renovation. That would assume some major amounts of drywall dust and construction that really just didn't happen. It is really a kitchen spiff-up, which took mostly paint, stain, and elbow grease. It also took a lot of time, but mostly because my life is a little insane right now. 

I've decided I'm going to do this kitchen reveal in a series of smaller posts, because I don't have the attention span or stamina right now for a monster post. Also, I'm still trying to figure out a curtain for a window that's just to the left of the photo above. I'm going to work my way around the room until I've cussed that into submission. Right now it just looks stupid, and I'm trying to find a way to un-stupid it. There's no reason why we can't start the tour while I do that.

For those who are just tuning in:

My house dates from 1939, but the kitchen was redone somewhere between 1968 to mid-1970s. The owners at that time changed the layout by taking down a wall, expanding into a mudroom entry area and turning it into an eat-in, and moving the stove to the other side of the room, creating what I call a "wide galley" layout. Since the cabinets are good quality and budget was a concern, I decided to work with what I had. That involved making choices that would fit in with the 1960s-70s style of cabinets. 

What I have done since purchasing the house in June 2011: 

• Purchased new appliances (except for dishwasher)
• Refinished cabinets and cleaned hardware (All credit goes to my mother, who put HOURS into this, one door at a time)
• Replaced a yellow and hacked-to-pieces laminate counter top with a new one
• Painted
• Replaced a huge and hugely ugly ceiling fan with a vintage fixture
• Added wall art and decorative items
• Made curtains to replace tired beige tab-top panels. 

Here's a slight before below: 

Here the countertop had been replaced and the cabinets were mid-refinishing, though it's impossible to tell in this photo. The previous color of the kitchen was a medium dark blue, which was painted over switch plates, spattered onto the baseboard trim, and was finger-printed, gashed, and greasy. Ew. 

The container set on the countertop is one that I still like because of the kitschy chickens, but took up too much counter space. Ditto the stand mixer. The container set is still in use but stashed in the pantry cupboard on the left. The stand mixer went into the cabinet underneath, and just gets hauled out for the big baking marathons. 

Now, back to 1968:

The corner you see with the oven above in 1968 is where the tall pantry cabinet is in 2011 in the most recent photo, below. The stovetop is now counter space: 

(I also need to interrupt this entire post to note the tulips, which are an After-Valentine's Day gift from Mr. Man. He is a man of great discernment, takes into consideration the fact that his lady truly hates the V-Day, and follows up with flowers the day after. The fact they are a great prop for the photo shoot is just bonus.)

This particular spread of counter space is where the baking happens: 

I love this corner because three items hold great personal meaning for me: 

The lazy-susan container set is exactly like one my grandmother had. I love the Pennsylvania Dutch design, and the fact that I remember Grandma's kitchen and her fried chicken dinners every time I cook for my own boys: 

I purchased the recipe box on a whim about two years ago, feeling drawn to it but not realizing why. My Aunt Karen has the same one in brown in her own kitchen, where I spent a large portion of my childhood. 

The rooster bookend was a bargain at a junk shop many years ago, because his mate was long lost. He's holding up two cookbooks that are in heavy use in my house: A 1950s community cookbook from Shenandoah, Iowa, called "Kitchen Klatter,"and a Hershey's Cocoa cookbook from mail order. Neither are very pretty and the Kitchen Klatter cookbook is downright ragged, but it's real life around here. 

The frame on the backsplash, which doesn't show up well in the photos because of reflected light, is holding a paper bag from a grocery store that my Grandad worked at when he was a young man. I have no idea how this paper bag survived 60-plus years, but there it is. I sometimes marvel at its existence. Greenley's Market, sadly, is like many small town main street grocers-- long gone. 

By next week, I should be parading you down to the other side of the sink, and some territories over by the stove. By that time I hope to have the last curtain looking significantly less stupid, and more fun stuff to share. Stay tuned! 

Thrift Shop Valentine

For a person who hates Valentine's Day, I sure got a good one.

It was not red or pink or chocolate. But it was shiny. And floral.

I got butter knives in the mail. 

Yep. You read that right. Butter knives. Yes. I am a weirdo. 

When I scored this green Art Deco cream pitcher that I love, I bought it more out of that love than "I have a use for it." 

But I decided it would hold butter knives in the area of the kitchen where we make toast and sandwiches. With four hungry boys, there is a sandwich being made in my house at any given time. It's like I'm running a deli up in here. My butter knives are always dirty in the dishwasher, and I decided to stock up on extra and have them handy and ready to go. 

Thrift shop finds are the obvious bargain way to go, but I have to share a shameful secret: the thrift shop in my town is lame. It is lame because we are in a university town, so the Goodwill here is 90 percent crapped-out Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirts. In the case of butter knives, all that stuff is institutional flatware that college students cadged from the campus dining room. It's all very depressing. 

Thrift shops in my sister's neck of the woods, the greater Atlanta area, are AWESOME. I would call them "effing" awesome, but I'm trying to pretend that I don't swear that much. I'll leave that for Macklemore and Ryan, the hip-hop artists who have been mentioned by nearly every single blogger on the planet in the last three months for their song "Thrift Shop." The link to the music video is here, and consider yourself warned if you have delicate sensibilities. But the reason it's so popular? It's hilarious. If you thrift, you're part of the biggest inside joke ever with this song. 

There are 12 of these, and they are heavy and good quality. They were a couple of bucks, and Dyan took them home, scrubbed and boiled them and ran them through the dishwasher. She mailed them to me last week. I ran them through the dishwasher again when they came here, not because I don't trust my sister's cleaning but because I don't trust the ookiness that is Other People's Dirt. 

So to review: 

Butter knives: awesome

Atlanta thrift shop scene: awesome

Macklemore and Ryan: f(    )ing awesome

My sister: awesome

This is exactly the sort of Valentine I can stand.