When M mentioned that he'd be away on business this week, I seized the thought that this would be my opportunity to buckle down and get some things done around here. There's just something about having the house to yourself with several days of no requests or commitments that sparks the imagination. Now, anyone who knows us will be puzzled, because M works 12-14 hours a day and is the most easy-going, unflappable husband around. If I'm still pushing a quilt through the sewing machine when he comes in at the end of the day, he's happy to open a can of tuna. Whoops..out of tuna? No problem. He'll find something. So the whole *he's away, now I can get something done* is almost comical. But the impulse persists, so I'm going with it.
Yesterday, I ran around checking things off of my list like a maniac, including washing & ironing all the new fabric, trimming the edges of the 48 yellow/orange blocks, pre-assembly, (that would be 192 edges...can you tell I'm getting sick of this project?) and scrubbing down this wicker chair.
Our home has a wide outside front entry area so when I came across this chair for $5 at a neighbor's garage sale last summer, it seemed like a perfect, slightly shabby *something* I'd been looking to put there. My intention from the start was to paint it, but it's sat there since, white, on a gray slab against a cream wall. As my mother always
said says, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and she's said it to me many times over the years. But never say never! M would be away...anything's possible! Today was the day.
I purchased the paint on the weekend, after
too much deliberation. I knew what color I wanted and visited several dealers, hunting down the perfect shade. (Note to self: it's a $5 chair.) This morning, fortified with some coffee and a bit of blog reading, I headed off to find some painting clothes, settling on a slightly smallish, old, gray Gap t-shirt and my last remaining pair of *mom* jeans...the dreaded high-waisted, tapered, ankle lengths. I'd be painting in the garage, so no problem. Hey! This was going to be fun!
M is the painter in our family (though I have the degree in painting...a BFA in Art Ed...he does the walls) so before he left, I asked if he had any brushes I could use. They're hanging in the garage, he said, and I'm almost positive that he laughed as he said it, thinking, I'm sure, that I'd never get around to it. Ha!
In the garage by 10:00 am, I planned on a couple of hours of work/fun painting followed by an afternoon of sewing. I spread out the drop cloth, sanded the chair (slightly) and wiped it off and turned to find the brushes. There they were, right where he said they'd be. *Ahem*. I considered posting a photo of the poor, pathetic specimens, but it might make you wonder about him. I prefer to think there's some sentimental attachment there. (Note to self: ask him about this when he gets home.)
Loathe to accede to any impediment to my big plans, I put my unshowered self, bed-head and all (it was brushed, of course, but being naturally curly...let's just say my hair's extremely suggestible), into the car and drove to Ace Hardware (still in mom jeans) on the hunt for some new brushes. The salesclerk practically met me at the curb to offer assistance, something I cannot get used to since our move here. In the heartland, everyone is extremely helpful. After my first local visit to Home Depot, I came home and told M that they must have been filming a commercial there, the way people were popping out of aisles asking "Anything special?", "Help you find something?" and the unbelievable "NIce day out there today, isn't it?". But I digress. She suggested a few favorites, highlighting an upgraded version. For a dollar more, this brush had a foam coating on the handle for comfort. Pshaw! I'm from New England. We'll take the standard version, thank you very much.
I sped home, mixed up that beautiful color and painted. For 4 hours, I painted. And I learned a few things. First, there's a reason they suggest spray painting wicker. (So, I ask, why don't they make spray paint in pretty colors?) Second, when painting wicker, gravity is your friend. I must apologize to all of those who have glopped paint on wicker and may have heard me disparage that look. My preferred version of painted wicker is the paint-brushed-on-every-single-strand-of-reed look. (Note to self: it's a $5 chair.)
I cleaned up the brushes, took a shower and am feeling pretty good about my day, despite the fact that my hand is throbbing. I didn't mention the necessary stabbing of the paint-loaded brush to achieve that paint-brushed-on-every-reed look, did I? (Note to self: next time, spend the extra dollar.) The chair needs another coat but the color choice was perfect!
You didn't think I was going to do the big reveal before it was finished, did you? It's not all pretty pictures all the time around here, you know.