Hello September

Hey, even most cubicle dwellers get two weeks of vacation a year, right? That's about the amount of time I've been gone from the blog. Sometimes when you don't have anything new or fresh to say, it's best to say nothing. The entire latter half of August was filled with The Chimney Fire. We had smoke so thick it seemed to lower the summer temperatures -- kind of a relief until you realized why. There were also many days of long, strange noontimes and twilights when you honestly couldn't even tell where the sun was, or even what time of day it was for that matter. 

It was a couple of weeks for inside activities and pursuits. I chose to get lost in some good books and close the blinds so as not to see the world burning up in front of me. At no time were we in any danger from the fire, but I'd say it is safe to say it lowered the spirits of the entire community.

BUT...that's over now. The fire is mostly contained and we can see the hills in the distance again (and they aren't on fire). The sky is blue again, too. It's funny, generally September is my least favorite month due to the seemingly endless heat. But after only seeing the sun filtering -- barely -- through the smoke for two weeks, I find September feels just fine, thanks.

I may have some big news to share soon as soon as some paperwork is signed, so stay tuned. In the meantime, here is a pic of the first of the Adirondack chairs I finished. I'm thrilled with how it came out and am almost done with the second one. It was actually kind of fun to pull a chair indoors, lay down a generous amount of tarps and paint away in the cool house. 

Hate is a strong word

So I officially hate the woman who owned these chairs before me. Not at first; I thought I was lucky to get them for $15 at a garage sale. But now that I've tried to strip them several times, and now that Big Ag has had to replace some slats that were rotting, I've decided I hate her.

But hate is such a strong word, dear, I hear my Aunt Margaret saying. Are you sure it's hate and not just frustration?

OK, so I don't hate the anonymous woman, honestly, I just hate what she did to these chairs. I hate that she coated them with a multi-layered blanket's worth of some mysterious white primer that liquifies when the stripper hits it, then painted 2,346 coats of teal latex paint on top of that. And I hate that she didn't bother painting the bottoms of the chairs, in places no one could see...hence the wood rot. 

And like most singularities in the universe, my hatred of this woman as Chair Caretaker points to a much larger issue in my soul, which is that I have issues with people who don't take care of things they've been entrusted with, whether that's a pair of wood adirondack chairs, a piece of land, a dog, or even a child.

I just realized it's why I have so much trouble with some people who move to the country yet aren't prepared to deal with the responsibility the land demands of us. There are a few of them in my neighborhood, and my house sits in eyesight of their eyesore. 

It's not their person -- they're usually quite nice --  it's their sloppy caretaking of cats, goats, sheep, grasses, topsoil and even the houses they live in that get me. Some people live like the objects they own and the places they live are ziplock bags...just use them until you're done and then toss 'em in the trash. 

It's very zen to think of everything as temporary and ephemeral, but we make serious errors when we start treating everything like it doesn't matter because of that. Because even the little things matter. And yes, I sometimes fall beneath my own standards when it comes to caretaking (if you saw the filthy interior of my otherwise-nice car right now you would agree with this). 

But the great thing about the world of ours is that it's mostly about increasing self-knowledge. And if you're willing to look at yourself in the work you do, whatever that is, you can learn a lot about how you relate to the world. It can be in doing something as simple as re-painting two wood adirondack chairs. Or running a vineyard. Or a business. Enlightenment in the simple tasks is available if we'll hold up a mirror to see our reflection while we're doing it. 

But to do that, you just have to be willing to do the work, both the chore and the corresponding inner analysis.

(which I will continue to do, by the way. These chairs will be getting fresh paint and weatherproofing this weekend). 

And to the lady who owned these chairs before me, I forgive you. Because as my Aunt Margaret always said, hate is a very strong word. I'm even working on forgiving the liquid primer that turns to goop on contact and becomes unremovable, but I gotta tell you, that one's gonna take some time.

Something old, something new

So things are proceeding at a nice pace here at the homestead. After a much-too-busy May and June, the July schedule is pretty open, and it's giving me a chance to think about a few projects.

 

My adirondack chair project is still in the garage, unfinished. It hit a snag when I discovered that whatever was underneath the teal paint you see is some kind of mega-waterproofing Kilz-type product that will not respond to even the strongest stripper. Basically it liquifies and cannot be completely removed.  So now I will just take off whatever paint I can, see if Big Ag can find a way to stabilize the chairs by adding additional screws. We can't get the old ones out because they are also completely filled in with the aforementioned White Goo of Death, whatever it is. (Fun Fact: "White Goo of Death" is actually also the Secret Service's code name for Donald Trump). Anyway, the plan with the chairs now is to sand off what I can and then re-paint them a color to match the other stuff in the yard. 

So not a total fail, but not really a success either. But for $15 a chair, I can't really complain. Oh wait, yes I can. I can always complain.

Meet Adele.

So what's new, as the saying goes? Well, I bought a Roomba. In light of my hip recent surgery and the fact that I'm about to turn 55, I decided to grant myself a back saver and hire a robot to do my floor cleaning. The cost of a mid-range Roomba is about the same as having our old housekeeper come two and half times, so it's basically already paid for itself and unlike the housekeeper, Roomba cleans every day of the week and does not check her cell phone and listen to annoying radio stations while she does it. 

So have you ever owned a Roomba? It's amazing. It gets under furniture, cleans corners well, picks up cat litter and fur, and generally keeps my home looking like it's just been vacuumed, all while I am doing other things, like yelling at the Adirondack chairs in the garage. My Roomba, by the way, is named Adele. And I love her.

Back...

in black.

So as most of you know, the trick to catching great thrift store finds is to shop out of season, and with that in mind I went looking for some dress jackets at the local Goodwill the other day. I have barn coats aplenty -- ones that actually get filthy from doing field and barn-type work -- but no coats I could wear for an evening out. First World Problem, obviously. But still a problem. So I got one plain black suit jacket to go with jeans (above), another quilted coat with a faux-fur hood (above also), and this baby right here.

Metallica.

I think it would look great with some pencil-leg black pants and heels, don't you? Very European, very metallic. I love it. It just needs the sleeves shortened and a new set of buttons for a matching  hood that was safety pinned onto it and it's all set to go. I'm thinking New Year's Eve? Got to begin planning these things early.

And so it goes, something old and something new. Between the two I manage to keep myself on a budget. Kind of.