You can see the small piece of foam on the floor, covering the protruding nails from the electrical junction splice below. Looks like a great place for the counter.
With a lot of stain and sanding, the floor and trim almost look like decent wood. I splurged on nice trim for the interior window frames, and on some nice wallpaper, which helps considerably.
The second floor is finally installed! It took a lot of work to de-warp it, and I had to recut parts of it to match up with the little cubbies and the tab slots, but it's finally in!
And we have light! I'm doing my Happy Electricity Dance - I know all you miniaturists out there are familiar with the steps to this one!
The front porch has been attached, the door stained, assembled and installed. I'm going to paint something on the little benches before I glue them on the porch.
This is the miniature toy shop I am currently working on. I bought a very, very cheap kit, thinking it would be a good "fixer-upper" project to keep me busy for a while.
I had no idea the trouble I was in for... the die-cut pieces don't match up, nothing fits together properly, the wood is cheap and splintery and warped... If it weren't for the wonders of superglue, I'd have smashed this kit long ago! I also decided to wire the thing, so the brads poke through the incredibly thin (1/8") walls to the other side (um, no problem, just a little creative decorating!)
I have discovered, in sharing stories with other miniaturists, that I am not the only one who makes up stories for the "little people" who inhabit our miniature worlds - nor the only one to have these people simply appear, demanding to have their house built! This is the story of the Toymaker:
The Toymaker has worked here for years (in spite of it not yet being built), since he first bought the tiny cottage as a young man back in Eighteen Forty-Something. In fact, he lived in the workshop upstairs until he married and eventually moved to a small house down the street. He and his wife never had children of their own, but every doll that he carves and she clothes, and each little teddy bear she sews, and every toy boat or train he makes is a work of love.
While he runs the shop by day, she works upstairs sewing and knitting and tending to the wounds of well-loved dolls. They always have lunch together, and afternoon tea. He keeps a jar of rock candy on the counter for visiting children - and if they occasionally drop by just for the treat, what's the harm? Sometimes they even see wonderous things - puppets that move without strings, dolls that dance on their own, tiny lead horses that come to life on the shelves, pictures in books that move.
It's rumored among the children that the Toymaker is a magician, and that Elves work in the shop at night making magical toys, and that the Toymaker's wife is one of the Fairy Folk. None of them has ever dared ask him, of course, but he knows, and smiles with a twinkle in his eye.
At the day's end his wife leaves to make dinner at home while he works on toys for a while longer. When dark falls he puts aside his tools, locks up the shop, and heads for home. He always pauses on the porch to light his pipe, and smiles as he hears the commotion of little voices and sounds of work beginning upstairs. Then he strolls down the street to his home, where he greets his beautiful Fairy wife with a kiss.
