Red door, old hardware, and a knitting chair

The tub is caught up in the west coast dock strike, so we didn't get to destroy the bathroom this weekend. Instead, I went into pier 1 for a sippy cup of water and left with a floor model chair stuffed into the front seat of my car. 

We painted the front door and restored the original hardware. I learned to drill holes with a power tool, which took longer than it should have because I had 300 bits to choose from and no experience to base my selections on. I have been collecting vintage drop pulls for a few months, and finally put them on the kitchen drawers. Did not injur self. Did get maudlin listening to Jim Croce. Work harzard.

VD weekend

Valentines day is not one of the holidays I celebrate actively, despite it also being our anniversary. Anniversaries are also not my thing. These days are occasions to declare your storybook love and take black and white pictures in the park, and it makes me feel weird about this rough, complicated, long story we have. We are better together. We know the plot line. He's kind and supportive and good with tools and brews great beer and looks nice in jeans. I handed off the task of minding the darkness to a very clever therapist, and together they do a diligent job of it. I'm still sad about some things, and curiously indifferent to things I wouldn't think I should be, and that's fine I guess. That's life.

There were slashing rains and flying branches on this valentines day, so we hunkered inside and ate brownies. We painted and nailed and installed hardware, enjoying a weekend of small projects before the hard work of tiling and cutting holes in the floor and re-routing plumbing begins. This is the week we either fix the bathroom or ruin the house. Lots of reading to do.

First family picture in the new house. 

Got a table in a color which will be out of style in half an hour.

And sewed coasters for it with the Japanese beer fabric in my stash.

Leif picked a hook for his backpack.

Doors were painted and the hardware restored.

I'm ok with paint and home repair becoming the new tradition. Eat your candy and get to work, kids!

Just don't look in the bathroom

Weekend progress. Floors! Curtains! Cat nipples!

The kitchen, living room, and hallway all connect to form a circuitous route, and Zenny has decided this is an ideal athletic track. She charges through the house in circles, and I sit on the couch watching her patter by on her little toddler muppet-legs, wondering if I will ever relax about her head injury. Maybe I won't remember when I stopped fretting. Maybe I will be forever banning her from contact sports and embarrassing her at the ice rink with her friends by skating around after her with protective padding. I was thinking about this yesterday as I buckled on her helmet, helped her climb the slide at the playground, and then ran headlong into a steel ledge. 

The gods will have their due. 

But exactly which gods are out for our brain pans? Research into responsible head-injury deities points to Czernobog (specifically, Neil Gaiman's representation); Slavic tradition says you can keep him at bay by swearing into a bowl on feast days. This is easy, I already do that practically every day (although clearly NOT ENOUGH). And just to play it safe, I can make an appeal to John Licci, Patron Saint of traumatic brain injuries. He appears to have been fond of building walls, and then healing people who fell off of them. He was also good at the bread and wine trick. So I will eat lots of bread and wine, and cuss into them, and that should cover our bases.

This is why libraries are important, people.

Blue and silver

I thought everyone was taking off of work to get the house ready, but NOPE. I am all by myself up here, scrubbing and taping and sanding and painting. 

But that's fine with me. And I don't even need to worry about not having a stereo until the electricians rip out the 80 year-old wires, because the neighbor kid blasts Snoop Dogg from his truck. So charming. I'll have to invite Officer Library Frequenter over for a beer some time. 

Things that are not DIY

DIY implies something which takes some skill, but which you can learn to do competently on your own through study and instruction, and thus save yourself time/money dealing with a contracted professional. Tutorials for things on Pinterest which are not DIY include:

DIY wrapped gifts

DIY air clay glued to a 99 cent vase to make it "Anthropologie"

DIY coffee creamer made from milk and sweetened condensed milk

DIY bubble solution 

DIY ornaments made out of used K-cups

Similar problem with Pinterest "hacks". Painting a dresser is not a hack. Relieving sinuses by pinching the bridge of your nose is not a hack. Drawing on a light bulb with a sharpie is NOT A HACK.

So. I used Pinterest to find a tutorial to fix old hardware. And now I PRESENT TO YOU:

 DIY HACK

removing paint from vintage hardware

at lunch break

in the staff room

with a coffee stirrer and paperclip

The original tutorial tells you to carefully simmer the hardware in a crock pot or big vessel which you will never use again (because of lead in the old paint) with a hearty dollop of dish soap for 8-12 hours, then carefully peel up the soft paint with a razor blade. Easy enough.

But even easier if you just microwave some hot water in an empty soup container, stir in dish soap, dunk your hardware, let it sit for 4 hours, and then come back on lunch break to scrape the softened paint off with a wooden coffee stirrer and a bent paperclip.

A little Barkeeper's Friend to polish that up, and it'll be like new. 

Next: DIY floor refinishing, and DIY paramedic assessment.