the paint saint

Charlie has really honed his painting skills over the past few years.



What with painting every room in our San Diego house, at least twice, plus a few hundred linear feet of baseboards and fences and patios and garages and doors and...



We're slowly working our way through the house, scraping wallpaper and sanding baseboards, crown moulding and window panes. As we're painting one room, we're contemplating colors for the next. We're also contemplating how in the world we're going to paint the stairwell that leads to our lower level.



Did anyone happen to catch the anonymous comment on my post last week about the green dots that showed up in the picture with Charlie in the dining room?

Someone left me a comment that they knew Mr. S. But not only did they know him, they know this house so well that they conveyed a story about the light in the stairwell. Apparently, it was very rarely turned on because to change out this light bulb would be a harrowing task and not something one would want to approach without scaffolding and a fully executed will.

Because it was used so infrequently, that single light bulb lasted the four plus decades that Mr. S lived in this house. Which is certainly a long time for a light bulb, but not nearly as long as the longevity of Livermore's Centennial light bulb.

On the day that Mr. S passed away, someone turned on the light in the stairwell and it immediately blew out. That story gave me the chills, much like the chills that appeared when I went and noticed - for the very first time - the light in the stairwell and wondered, "HOW IN THE WORLD are we going to get up there and paint that wall?"



Then, I freaked out a bit wondering who left me that comment?!



Charlie, as it turns out, has been chatting it up with all the people at the bus stop every morning and he has gone and told several of our neighbors that I have a blog. I don't know WHY he would do that, but when he told me, I felt like crawling under a rock. For what it's worth, my husband doesn't even read this blog - yet he is telling our brand new neighbors about it?



Oh honey. No, No, NO.

We've just moved in and I'm working through some issues, here! It would be less embarrassing for me to parade down the middle of the street in my bikini from high school (that I still happen to have? WHY?) than to have our new neighbors reading this blog.

Anyway, when I read Charlie the anonymous comment, he thought for sure it was one of the women at the bus stop who have lived in this neighborhood for 30+ years and knew Mr. S and this house. But when he asked each one of them the very next day, they all denied leaving the comment.

So. Huh.

The internet is a very small place, isn't it?

This past weekend, we painted our dining room. And then, before the paint was even dry, I was debating whether or not I liked the red. Actually, I love the red - it's rich and vibrant and a beautiful color, indeed. But I think that Oregano Spice might go better with our furnishings, art and draperies. At the moment, we're not quite sure what we're going to do.



We might leave it red - or we might repaint it. Or, we might put bags over our heads and hit ourselves repeatedly with paint stirrers because that'll clear our minds and be less painful than painting a room only to paint it again. Especially when we have ten more rooms to paint and more than 200 window panes to scrape and sand and tape and prime.

Isn't the normal course of action to select a color and then paint it and then live with it? Or perhaps, you paint a single wall and then realize oops! it's not quite right! Who out there paints an entire room with TWO coats and THEN decides, "Nope. This isn't it!"

Ah, the good times of home improvement.



WE'RE GOING TO NEED A LOT MORE WINE OVER HERE!!