Tag: Vintage furniture

Small Potatoes

I’m not a wily weather forecaster, sage soothsayer or tenacious tarot card reader. Just someone (like you) who is alive in 2020. Trying to stay healthy and sane. Hungry for certainty.

In times such as these, I wish I were a premier prognosticator. Not a pollster. I’m done with that margin-of-error stuff. I want news of actual results from the future.

Of course, the outcome of the presidential election is at the top of my list. Along with the arrival date of a reliable vaccine. But I also want to know if and when it will ever rain again in the Phoenix metropolitan area. After our hottest summer on record, we’ve gone months with no more than a few errant drops of natural moisture.

At least the days are cooler. On this morning’s walk, I wore a sweatshirt and long pants for the first time in seven months. The temperature was seventy degrees. Yes, I am a desert rat.

There is one other important piece of information I need from the future. Will that Carlo, mid-century chair (saffron upholstery with brass legs) Tom and I ordered ever arrive or is it lost forever?

I will now proceed to share the details. While in the throes of the global pandemic, we have been making a number of improvements inside and outside our condo: painting and carpeting our bedroom and den (check); casting our votes for the November 3 election (check); replacing our interior doors (happening this coming week); buying and receiving a stone-colored Carlo mid-century couch for our living room (check); and welcoming a lovely and comfortable chair into our refashioned den (???).

After a minor hitch, the couch from West Elm arrived on October 17. Ryder (the people West Elm contracts with) were supposed to deliver the chair before that. But I got one message telling me the truck had broken down and we would need to reschedule. We did that. Then I was told by Ryder they had misplaced our beautiful chair. An angry outburst ensued. Our chair was likely somewhere in a local warehouse and didn’t make it on the truck for the rescheduled date.

West Elm later told us the chair had been found. So we rescheduled the delivery a third time … last Thursday. The chair never arrived. I’ve had two or three additional intense conversations (with various Ryder folks and two West Elm managers).

Now it is Sunday, October 25. Two months until Christmas. I’m done with the angst. I have entered a Zen stage with the missing chair. Maybe it will arrive. Maybe it won’t. West Elm assures me they will get to the bottom of this and make it right in some fashion. I believe them, but I’m not holding my breath. Worst case scenario? I’ll get our money back.

After all, in the scheme of things, the mysterious case of a missing chair is small potatoes. As a new surge of COVID-19 cases crosses our country and November 3 approaches (finally), all I really want for Christmas is a blue tsunami, a new president, a reliable vaccine, a day or two of rain for the Valley of the Sun, and the end of this 2020 madness.

Is that asking for too much?

Soda Pop Saturday

SodaPop_020820

You know you’ve reached senior status when your mid-century adolescence–complete with teak tables, primary colors and kitschy collectibles–has turned vintage. All of it resides under one roof at Soda Pop on Seventh Street in Phoenix just south of Camelback Road.

At the recommendation of Martin, a much-younger friend, Tom and I stopped in on Saturday. Wow, was it cool. Possibly even hip. Hip enough for us to buy a vintage teak kitchen table with six matching chairs. The dining surface we already owned wasn’t nearly as cool. Plus, our new table has two fold-and-hide leaves. Perfect for two guys with limited space and unlimited regard for stuff of the 60’s and 70’s.

Yes, I know. The words cool and hip are no longer hip. Neither is Cool Whip. But occasionally I still see it lurking in the freezer case at our local grocery store and am reminded of countless pumpkin pies past and that signature, creamy tub of topping that every family consumed at holiday gatherings.

Flash cubes. Fringe on bell bottoms. The peace sign. The first walk on the moon. Man, all of that was half a century ago. Now, in hindsight, even recollections of the Vietnam War and Watergate feel relatively innocent and cuddly. Are they vintage too?

At least we can smile when we drive past the bright yellow Soda Pop sign, framed against the blue Arizona sky, knowing our time, place, furniture and cultural identity still have some sort of perceived value.

The end will truly be near when we’re considered antique.