Them's the Breaks

I said, "Well, them's the breaks" to Julia not long ago about something or other, and she said in disbelief, "What??"  So if you're curious, here is a bit about the history of the phrase.

Sadly, I have a more literal use for the phrase at the moment, since these two miniatures I debated with myself about and saved up my laundry-day nickels and dimes for arrived broken, in the sideboard's case with an alarming six pieces rattling loose in the box.  The seller ("No Returns") was quick enough to offer a partial refund, since I said I would repair them -- and so though I was not particularly pleased with the transaction, the pieces themselves are both still quite perfect for my intentions, so there it is.

This was clearly an old break, with glue blobs remaining on all surfaces.

After some research about repairing wooden miniatures (and full-sized wooden furniture), I decided to start with acetone to try and remove the old glue.  I masked off the rest of each piece, so as not to damage any more of the finish, and carefully dabbed acetone on the dried glue with a brush, and let it sit.  The glue dulled almost immediately, which is probably enough to disguise it -- ideally, the acetone softens the glue enough that it can be scraped off. Unfortunately, when I scratched at the leg piece with my thumbnail to see if it was working, a chunk of the old glue chipped right off, so I decided not to push my luck, and just glue the two pieces back together, because I can always position the table with the repair towards the back -- and certainly a few chairs around it will help distract attention.

This brought us to the problem of how to clamp it while the wood glue dried.  (I didn't want to risk superglue, not being sure that at this scale I could get the pieces lined up correctly in time.  Superglue is notoriously unforgiving.)  The straight part at the top of the leg was an ideal place for my little "clothes pin" clamps, but that curve at the underside makes it pretty much impossible to clamp it, either on the leg itself or on the whole piece.  David had bought for me a mini-vise with a rotating and tilting top, so he sat for a quarter of an hour or so, trying to get both pieces to line up securely (it looked like something out of Rube Goldberg, or a "Star Wars" medical droid!), but eventually we came to the realization that simpler was in this case better, and that plain old adhesive putty holds pretty well in lieu of a clamp --

 Alas, the wood glue did not stick at all, and I could see even as I was loosening the brass clamp that it hadn't worked.  So, superglue it was, after all.

I laid the table on my jig in much the same position as before, and practiced moving the broken piece into position a number of times, screwed up my courage, and jumped in.

(It isn't snowing in my breakfast room, alas -- I had to put a card just behind the table to get the camera to focus!)

The pieces went together quite smoothly -- or so it seemed -- but either they didn't, or the prep we had done chipped away enough of the old glue or the finish that the join was now wonky.  The repair is fairly noticeable, certainly to the camera and to my contact-lens-free eye.  It is, however, nice and sturdy.  I'm not sure yet whether I will try to file it a little smoother, or just leave it be.

This was actually my bigger worry -- so many joins! such slender pieces!  I took a lot of time to make sure I knew exactly which piece went where -- especially those two little side braces -- and to lay everything out carefully.  I started with those, as it seemed the most logical first step.  The support was inset just slightly on the bottom block of the spindle, and so it seemed prudent to put something underneath to keep it at the right height as I brought the two pieces together -- this was just the ticket! --

After that I realized that yes, it would be better to get the splintered tops of the posts glued into place next, seeing as how those seemed to me the most risky and I wanted better access.

The top shelf, of course, was inset a slightly different distance than the braces, so I hunted up some scraps of strip-wood and chose one to go under the shelf and hold it stable, and used another one as a straight edge to keep the two pieces of the spindle lined up.  This piece was my biggest worry, that I would mash the splintered edges irretrievably, but after I decided which piece went where, and in which direction, the two splintered ends meshed together quite smoothly, even more than once.  It was lucky, I think, that the break was relatively short, so that the splinters didn't have the opportunity to get bend or broken off.

The last step was fiddlier, since it involved glue in three separate places – top shelf, middle shelf, bottom brace – and the top shelf needed glue on three sides, but the pieces went in smoothly, and it was surprisingly simple to position the top shelf snugly first, then make sure that the middle of the turned post was butted tightly against the middle shelf, then the same with the bottom brace.

One of the spindle breaks had some of the finish chipped off before it even got to me, as you can see, but this is facing left, not head-on, as you look at the sideboard from the front, so I think I can get away with just softening it with some felt-tip pen in a matching color -- I don't want to push my luck, trying to fill it in!

So there it is -- I can't say "no harm done" about the purchase, more "sadder but wiser," but I am still really pleased with the pieces themselves.  The table is a lovely color and finish, and is I think a nice balance between economy and quality of scale, and I must say that I am really delighted with the sideboard, its handsome marble top and that gaudy Victorian more-is-more decoration that here I feel gets awfully close to the "ugly" tipping point but somehow doesn't quite spill over, and instead remains just cheerfully exuberant.

Comments

[Toffeeapple]

I don't know how you summon the patience to repair such tiny things!

I had never heard that expression before - probably a big pond difference?

[Mary Lou Egan]

What a nerve wracking undertaking! My father used "thems' the breaks' all the time. Thanks for the memory.