Every time there is a gap in my posting, I am going to start a new one with something like, “Ok it’s been about a million years since I’ve written!”
So there it is.
I’ve been busy (and a little bit negligent) – that’s why I haven’t been on here. Over the summer, Dad was at his accountants’ house picking up a load of really old wood they had in thier basement. Steve went with to help. When they got home Steve came running to get me, “Wend! Come see what I found for you!” Woohoo! I came runnin. “Look! It’s a table! Like you were looking for!” Mom was like, “Uh, yuck. What are going to do with that?” But it was perfect. It was a drop leaf table in many pieces and in very poor condition… to say the least. It was dirty and cracked and scratched, with rusted mismatched hardware, missing leaves and a pirate peg leg. Circa 1900. Probably Sears catalog. Probably worthless. I was in love. Well done, Steve. I have always wanted a drop leaf table, I can’t say why, I just have. And for some reason I got it in my head that I wanted an old one to repair and refinish. Having zero experience with wood working, furniture building, furniture repair, and a limited attention span, I had been on the hunt to a junky old table in need of some love that I couldn’t make any worse. And here it was.
Lucky for me, Dad has loads of experience with all things wood working. We made a plan.
Both drop leaves had huge cracks. We made little bow tie pieces to pull and hold the cracked sides together. Then I figured that I would be unlikely to be able to blend these pieces seamlessly, so why not make them stand out? So we made them into little fishes. Then we packed all the table parts and pieces into my motorhome and drove it home to Lake Bluff.
Yesterday I made myself an iced coffee to go (oh, how I love iced coffee…). I grabbed my fresh coffee, my bag of items I was about to return to the mall, and my keys. As I leaned over to slip on my sandals, I noticed that I was spilling ( by spilling, I really mean pouring) my coffee out of my cup and onto/into my bag of returns. Oh s#%^t (that’s oh shit!) I rushed over to the sink and wiped everything clean, my cup, my bag of returns, my arm:0/. As I turned back toward the door the light caught something on the floor and glistened as if beckoning me over to investigate. A little drop of coffee on the floor… Wait is that a trail of coffee across the floor all the way to the back to the door? Indeed it was. Spent the next few minutes on my hands and knees wiping up the ridiculous mess I had made. I was was careful to make sure I had cleaned the whole mess before tossing all my paper towels in the garbaggio, and cleaning my hands, and heading back to the door. Once again, at the back door I leaned down to put on my sandals when, son of a bitch! Are you kidding me??? There was coffee dripping down the wall! What had started as a little wipe up of a little drip of coffee had turned into a coffee bloodbath! It was literally everywhere.
W: Son of a Nutcracker! What the hell kinds of things were you returning that could just be wiped clean of delicious, sticky iced coffee?
Tonka truck work didn’t happen today… again… still… I finished the book I was reading instead – the very last of the Outlander books. I have been living in them pretty solidly since April. Now I feel like a lose end… Perfect for projects like these damn trucks, right?! The paint cans are still on the floor in the mudroom. And the trucks are still piled up out on the porch.