Overcoming the fear of faux

A warrant is out for my arrest. My family has charged me with negligence. The crimes started four days ago when I began faux stenciling the dining room. My family alleges that since then there have been no cooked meals, no homework editing and no chauffeur services and the house has gone to heck.

They're right. Tarps and old newspapers cover the floor. Paint jars, rollers, brushes and Power Bar wrappers clutter every surface. Furniture lies in disarray. Lamps burn Unshaded.

I'm having a blast.

The idea for the dining room makeover started last month when I visited a faux and stenciling shop. I discovered that faux finish didn't have to look like a woman's face after a chemical peel and that stencil patterns included more than cows and grape clusters.

I invited the shop owner and designer Jade Wieland to my home to discuss my dining room, really three bland walls surrounding a big table.

Day One

Wieland arrives in her van and unloads stacks of stencils, cases of paint and buckets of supplies. She sets the stencil stacks on the table and says, "Pick."

I rule out anything that has urns (too Grecian). I want nothing too formal, or that looks like a coat of arms or too literal (no silhouettes of tulips or violins).

I settle on a fleur-de-lis motif and an all-over botanical pattern. She approves.

Next we have to decide on application and colors. Should this pattern go over or under the chair rail? How far apart? Two-tone, three-tone, which tone? How about a ceiling medallion?

We agree to paint the wall below the chair rail deep toffee and apply the botanical pattern over that. Above the rail we'll run the fleur-de-lis stencil. We'll coat the walls in metallic-tinged glaze and put a Venetian plaster stencil on the ceiling.

After Wieland leaves, friend and fellow decorating addict Susan arrives to help. My family rolls in and sees the commotion for what it is: a design invasion that means Mom's not making dinner. My perceptive husband, Dan, picks up Chinese food.

As Susan rolls, I brush. We drink wine and talk into the wee hours. Life is good.

Day Two

Wieland arrives and announces: "You're going to do everything." Gulp. We map walls to determine where stencils go. We start painting the motif above the chair rail.

I fall so in love with the process, I forget time and any obligations I have or ever had. All that matters is where to put this dab of metallic green. Susan comes over and paints an accent wall. We yak about what a headache teenagers are. Life just gets better.

Day Three

I'm wearing the same clothes for the third day. We move south of the chair rail. We paint the all-over stencil pattern, incorporating desert sand, raw sienna and burnt umber.

Wieland teaches me how to blend colors. I have paint embedded in my cuticles and am wearing so many colors I could roll onto the stage of a "Cats" production and go unnoticed.

Day Four

I write my column from under a tarp. It keeps paint off my keyboard and my family off my case. I am in faux heaven. Thanks to Wieland's on-the-job training, I've conquered my fear of faux.

Here are some of her tricks.

About taping: Use one long strip, not pieces, for each length of wall. Seal the seam where paint will meet tape by brushing on a stripe of clear latex glaze.

About mapping: Beginners often start stenciling in the center of a wall and work out without figuring pattern breaks. For a professional result, map the room first. Use a pencil to mark the stencils' registration holes.

Tune in next week to find out if we finish the project in time for my New Year's Eve dinner party and if my family starts speaking to me again.