Sunrise Every Morning

 Now I ask you, how would it be possible to arrive at my destination with a grumpy and surly attitude after having been regaled with this amazingly beautiful sunrise as I journed eastward? Well, I don't think it is possible. I kept remembering this song:




The steadfast love of the Lord never faileth. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning, new every morning...great is Thy faithfulness, Oh Lord. Great is Thy faithfulness!

It's a good thing I left the house early, because that way I had time to pull off the road and take pictures. On second thought, if I hadn't left home early, I would have missed it entirely.

Pecan Canoe

Our pecan tree decided to drop all its leaves and pecans overnight, or at least that's what it seemed like. On Thanksgiving day they were hanging on, but one cold night and--kazaam--they came tumbling off so fast we could sit inside and watch them fall, floating and diving to land gently below. Now this generated a problem: the pecans and the leaves were mixed thoroughly. Winnowing the leaves with a shovel worked, but who has the energy for that? Our son-in-law, Art, tried for a while, but soon decided there had to be a more practical solution.

So the next step was loading the canoe with piles of the mixed matter, using a leaf blower to eject the chaff, and watching while the heavier pecans rolled down to the lower end of the boat. I'm sure canoe makers everywhere are shuddering, but hey, it sure beats crawling around on the lawn and picking them up one at a time.

Big Cities Forget

We were in Dallas for convention on November 22--the 47th anniversary of JFK's assassination. Our hotel was smack dab in the middle of the freeway noodles and practically on top of the spot where the presidential motorcade had passed all those years ago. From the little park nearby, we could see the building, and the sixth floor window out of which those shots came that injured Governor John Connally, and fatally wounded President John F. Kennedy. That evening, we took a little walk to the actual site where it had happened and saw fresh flowers on the sidewalk next to the road. Several people were meandering around, still solemn, 47 years later.

We could find no statues or monuments, no commemorative structures, and the only historical markers in the area were remembering different people--important to Dallas, no doubt, but of no relevance to tourists like us.  On the pavement, there were two X's marked neatly with regular highway paint, each representing a spot where a bullet had struck its target. A gentleman standing nearby informed us that there were supposed to be three x's, but highway construction had recently obliterated the third one. He also bombarded us with a conspiracy theory which involved LBJ and the mafia, then demanded a hand-out for his impromptu, unrequested, telephone-salesperson-style lecture.

 It was a strange feeling to be standing there on a warm, cloudy evening, remembering the moment we heard the news that day so long ago, and recalling the nation's mourning for days and days afterward--to be standing in the actual spot of that earth-shaking event--and to be seeing only two painted x's on the pavement of that quiet little corner of street, now largely bypassed by the frenetic freeways. Behind, overhead, and beyond our remembering, we could hear the sounds of trains, ambulances, buses and helicopters as they raced helter-skelter from one corner to another, engaged with the living city all around.

 

Finally Finished Furniture

 These last few stages took a while. I painted it with several coats of polyurethane, sanding lightly between coats, and re-staining parts that got a little too much taken off. We had a real problem when it came to handles.  The old handles were three and a half inches across and all the new handles are three. I think we looked in three or four hardware stores and online as well. Finally, we settled for these--because they were the only ones in the store that would do, since the plate covers the old holes and we could drill new holes for the handle. I also spray painted the white, plastic-looking shelves so they would fade into the background better.

 Anyway, when I look at the many flawed areas, and the less than perfect job of rushed sanding and sealing, I manage to console myself by remembering what the thing looked liked before all this. And when I wish the handles matched a little better, I take a look at the former handles--especially the one on the bottom drawer, and I sigh. It does look lovely now.

Staining

We decided that, since this old piece of furniture had so many little cuts and ink stains, we'd stain it a darker color--walnut fit the bill--but before we stained it, there were a couple of places where the wood needed to be patched with wood filler. That's kind of a toss-up, because, not matter how much you buy real wood looking filler, and sand it into shape, it still looks like someone stuck a piece of old gum in the crack and filled it, but we still tried, thinking that from a distance it would look like a knot hole or something. Anyway, here's the sanded product. It's all ready for sealer and polyurethane.



Tomorrow:  The finished product

Sanding

 These two little friends make sanding much easier. They bump off paint flecks and actually smooth flaws. They reach into corners and nose their way into ridges...sanding, smoothing. They also tend to turn around and bite the unsuspecting wielder who doesn't keep a firm grip.

Next is Staining

Little by Little

I'm feeling encouraged enough to tackle the sanding now. The paint is off the flat surfaces at least, although there are still some varnish stains. I've wiped it clean with a damp rag soaked in bleached water, and I think the sander will take care of the rest. It looks pretty good if you don't probe into every little corner.
 

There are a couple of places where wood needs to be repaired, on the feet, the front, and on the top of one drawer. Turtle bought some wood filler that is supposed to hold stain. In my experience, it will stain a different color than the rest, but we are going to try it.

 Next:  Sanding

Elbow Grease

Ok, so this is not fun. Scraping, re-applying, washing, scrubbing..three coats of zip strip and one layer of orange-citrus smelling stuff in a spray bottle which would have been nifty if it had only worked. It did help take old paint/varnish/stain off, but the spray bottle clogged after the first two squirts and had to be shaken, and twisted after every four or five thereafter. It was runny, messy, oily, and only marginally efficient.

Every time I refinish furniture, I vow that this will be my last piece...and it is always at this stage that I vow it.

  Ah well, I'm sure that by doing a little every evening after work I'll be able to get most of the paint off. I am a little concerned with the stains underneath the paint. It looks like there might be some India ink, and lots of run over from the stripper. Maybe I can use a little bleach water on it, or thinner with a good scrubbing rag...hmm.

Tomorrow:  Little by Little

Off with the Old

The most difficult, tedious, and messy job in refinishing furniture is stripping off the old paint and varnish. For this piece of furniture, that's complicated even further by the old contact paper plastered over everything. First, Claye tried peeling that off. It worked for a little while, but then the pieces began to break, so we used a razor blade scraper. That was risky, because it kept catching on one thing or another and it was easy to make little cuts in the wood. So I just poured on the stripper.

Lo and behold! The contact paper just bubbled up like old paint and could be pushed off with a putty knife. I found an old box in the garage and began to dump in scoops of paint and plastic, being careful not to tug at it too vigorously and splash it into my eye. This stuff is slimy.

Finally, I applied a layer to all the rest of the furniture and let it set for at least twenty minutes, being careful to wear a glove. If a spot of the stuff gets on the skin, it begins to burn right away and burns until you go wash it off. Rubbing it off with a rag helps too, because the stuff works best in a thick puddle and not spread thinly.


Tomorrow: Elbow Grease

Turning ugly old junk into useful furniture

Now isn't that a bright idea?
Last summer, when my dad needed to clear out a storage building, he asked all of us if we wanted any of the old furniture. I picked out a couple of pieces--one for sentimental value. (It was my daughter's little wardrobe and I thought I might could make a toy cabinet for my grandchildren) and the other because it looked like it would make a good "fly-tying cabinet" for my husband, whose blog name is Turtle, aka Turtle the Fearless.

Anyway, here's the cabinet with its three heavy coats of paint--green, black, and sunshine yellow. There's a kind of contact paper on the top and it's going to be a mess to scrape off, but underneath--ah there you can see real wood.

I hope it's salvageable, but for tying flies it really doesn't have to look like Ethan Allen. I'll have to replace the hardware, of course, although that wire handle does add a little charm of its own.

Here's a record of my daily progress:
Off with the Old
Elbow Grease 
Little by Little 
Sanding 
Staining 
Finally Finished Furniture

Friction

It's obviously the people's conviction
That our congress runs better with friction
A well-oiled machine
Though ostensibly clean
Is a piece of political fiction

Another Tea Party

  

Cute little kids can force their uncles and aunts
to do practically anything. Here they are,
out in the cool fall air, sipping vanilla
chai tea with cream and sugar.

...and of course making polite conversation in all the proper accents.

Running low on supplies, they send a couple of party members to the kitchen supervisor for more tea.

Hey! who invited the reporters?

The younger set have a unique formula that

uses equal parts of cream, sugar, and tea.

It's cool enough for jackets but not enough for shoes. I guess that's how you know they have inherited a few genes from this family.

Uncle Elijah is the life of the tea party

Gonna Bake Brownies Today...

Dare I?
Oh yeah.

For the last two months I've been on a self-imposed sugar-free diet that was scared into me through the watching of a youtube lecture by an obscure nutritionist. He warned of the dangers of high fructose corn syrup and fearlessly exposed the hidden agendas of coke companies who have plotted to turn the world into little gaseous blimps of obesity with arms and legs.

I figured that since school had started with a crazy rush of activity, and I only had time and energy to exercise once or twice a week, I had to do something or I would gain back the hard fought two pounds (four if I took off my shoes) I had managed to lose over the spring and summer by sticking to a grueling schedule of exercise:  walking, working out, climbing stairs, and even swimming with the ancient "water walkers" up at the city pool.
Sad, isn't it.
So, barring the very occasional relapse into a donut sin, I've kept my resolve, and I plan to keep it up. (Except for Thanksgiving Day...because I figure I daren't disdain all the God-given deserts after I've been so thankful for them.) And I've managed to lose another four pounds.
(And don't you dare make the obvious comment that my muscle turning to flab would account for that or I'll mark your comment as spam and report it to the blog police!)

Brownies are calling my name.
And I have no fear,  for they are sugar-free brownies, and there is sugar-free frosting to put on them.
We found them at the end of the well-stocked cake mix aisle at the supermarket. See for yourself: There are now sugar free vanilla and chocolate mixes. True, there is no great variety yet--no cream cheese icing for pumpkin-spice cake, nor gingerbread or pineapple--but I'm dreaming of the day when they will all be there.

Meanwhile, we've experimented a little over the past few weeks. The chocolate cake is a little dry, but it moistens nicely with applesauce in the mix. The vanilla cake--turned into cupcakes and made with applesauce instead of oil--is palatable, but problematic in the gastro-intestinal side effect domain. (In short, if you eat five or six of them, you need to seek out a lonely island instead of company, and you will understand how a volcano feels.)

But the brownies...well...they are nearly perfect. Today, I'm baking brownies!

Lots of Little Visitors this Evening

We've had lots of little visitors this evening. First, we hear the slam of a car door, then a few excited squeals, adult cautionary voices, and the fast pitter patter of strange feet coming up the sidewalk. We've had bugs and princesses, cheerleaders and super heroes. Most are carrying light sticks and little sacks for candy, which is appealing to them, but not any more than being able to ring the doorbell and wait for a benevolent human with a bowl of candy bars in her hands. Most of the little ones are already eating candy; it creates a sticky mask across their upturned faces.

The adults hovering behind these creatures remind them if they don't say thank you fast enough, and grab them before they dart into the street. A few older ones have been unaccompanied, but even those waited patiently while I doled out the reward.

This little lady was quite elaborate in her pirate costume. Whatever she was wearing, I think it involved too many layers, because she looked a little warm...maybe it was just from running from door to door. Her brother said he was a jester, but he looked like a harlequin to me

All evening I kept surprising those who knew me from our Wednesday night church program for children.
"Hey! You're the story lady! I didn't know where you lived!"
Well, now they do, and I think that's a good thing.






Now they know a safe house in the neighborhood. The candy corn girl, cheerleader, and lollipop-licking superman go to our church. I invited them in so I could see their costumes better and decided to start taking pictures.

It is cool outside, but by no means cold. In short, a perfect evening for some family fun. Around here it's all a treat.

Fiery Monday

I drove to work on Monday toward a fiery sky and discovered that I had thirty minutes to spare, since I had forgotten we had a teacher's meeting at 8:00 and school was starting an hour late. So, ignoring the few minutes I could have used to do some intensive planning for the day, I promptly joined the cook, a good friend of mine, to walk about three blocks over and investigate a burning house. There were fire-fighting vehicles parked all along the street, and, to my surprise, I recognized most of the firemen who were cleaning up the last remains of the burned-out, building, which, fortunately, had been vacant when the fire erupted early that morning. Some were former students of mine.

"Sure", they said, "You can walk a little closer. Mind the hoses."
So we approached and snapped a couple of pictures of the ruins, the smoke, the embers, and the heroes.

Architectural Fads

My husband received a free, promotional magazine called Dwell. It's full of this type of home. Boxes and more boxes I say. Reminds me of the seventies somehow.

I'm not sure what modern architecture is trying to copy. Trailer houses? Freight cars? Abandoned warehouses? These all come to mind when I see what the trendies are offering. Today, I saw a link on Yahoo and followed it to see these similar modern homes, the least expensive of which still runs over seven million dollars. You may think they are beautiful, but I'm a traditionalist, I guess. Give me an old English cottage any day, or a Victorian mansion, or a real Spanish hacienda home. I think living in some of these would feel like living in a toll booth, a bank, or a fancy chicken coop. Check these out. While you're at it, look at the prices. http://realestate.yahoo.com/promo/its-a-mod-mod-world.html