Lunch: It’s Not for Eating

Not today, at any rate.

When we bought this house 12 years ago, it had all we needed going for it: 4BR–enogh room for two teenagers and us; two baths–again, juuust enough (heck, the kids could share :-)), other amenities like good neighbors (not so much any more *sigh*), and the pool and fenced yard were icing. I thought to myself, “Self, I could live in this house til I die and be satisfied.” And I meant it.

But there were little things.

The cutsy flowered wallpaper in the kitchen, dining room and carried on down the hallway to the “master suite”–*yech* Yeh, that went long ago.

The french doors to the deck were still in gray primer. Fixed years ago, as well.

Other little things.

But the doors. *sigh* All of them were hoolow core–including the front door! Made no sense whatsoever.

Well, I’ve dealt with some of them–front door war first, replaced with a nice 8-panel solid wood door. But the upstairs doors have been down on the list too long. Found a door for that bath–raised panels, only 1/8 inch too tall *heh*

Soooo, lunch was installing that door and getting it painted, “new” hardware (well, new to that door and location).

Big deal: it’s been so long since I used my hole saw that when I went to the place I knew it was… it wasn’t. An excuse to buy a tool. *Whoopee!* Bought a door ijstallation kit that replicated much of the same functionality and added a nice lil reusable plastic lock-on template. Nice. Sure, I could have used one of my routers to route out the places for the hinges, but with setup and teardown, well, for two hinges it wasn’t worth it. besides, the kit came with a new 1/2″ chisel, and I really enjoy shaving wood with a chisel.

So, hardware try-mounted and door works. remove hardware and paint.

Looks good. Install (quick-drying semi-gloss latex enamel).

Oops. Used the wrong paint. You see, we have two yellows. One that’s really light, almost Gurnsey cream colored (with a touch more yellow, maybe). Another is a richer yellow, used in the livingroom (really brightens the room!).

I had grabbed a can of the livingroom yellow. Really stood out next to the other yellow on the walls around the door.

*heh*

S’OK. The paint was already dry. Slapped on another coat very, very quickly, of the right paint.

Now, see, there’s this about me and painting: I don’t like to do it. Oh, I like the results, but doing it… not so much. Still, do it right (even with the wrong paint *heh*) and there’s some enjoyment in the act for me anyway, because I learned much of what I do when I paint from my paternal grandfather.

Granddaddy was a “show and tell” kinda guy. Grew up as a working cowboy on the family ranch and became a far, far more literate man than I am. He made his living as a farmer, a carpenter and, for nearly 40 years, a postal worker. But it was as a handyman that he shared most of the times we spent together. He taught me how to hold a brush, and how to use the right brush for the job. So, today during lunch, when I used a 1″ natural hair detail brush to brush in the panels and a 2.5″ brush to do the frame (the stiles and rails), I held my brush as Granddady showed–and told–me to: like holding a pencil or pen, not in the “handshake” grip most folks use. (Try it: you’ll find it less tiring and the brush easier to control.)

And as I painted (and re-painted *VBG*) the door, I remembered times spent with Granddaddy and, as always when I paint trim or walls or suchlike, it made the job go easier.

Man! I think I want to paint some more now.

Maybe.

😉

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