So, today for me started at 8:00 AM, about an hour past when I had intended to get up. Last night's low was about 70°; I knew that, in order for me to get anything accomplished in the garden without being flushed downhill in a current of my own perspiration, I would have to be out there 'way before 9:00. Well, at 8:00 AM, it was already above 80°.
Maybe the weeding would be best postponed until this evening. Wait! What was that? Oh, how sweet! The tree swallows who decided to move into one of our wren houses were feeding their babies! How clever of me to happen to have my camera strapped to my wrist.
These beautiful animals will let me photograph them from about 5'. This morning, however, Mama Swallow turned and looked at me as if to say, "Puh-leeze! Can't you see we're busy here?"
She flew away from her house, circling over me with Papa Swallow until I stepped back a couple feet.
Gee, what was happening to my Fixit Day? I had spent about a half hour watching the Swallow family. My focus obviously wasn't on that to-do list I worked on last night. Well, by noon I still hadn't accomplished much except meandering around the yard, getting really hot in the now 94° temperature and serving as dinner to about a dozen mosquitoes. Mosquitoes, by the way, have a preference for roasted Filipino meat and a finely tuned facility for picking - oh, let's say - me out of a county gathering.
Before I drone on too much longer, let me show you what I did get accomplished: This table was almost the beginning of a verbal tug-of-war between my Hubby and myself. "That needs to be painted," I announced. "Why?" he asked. "It's cedar. It will last forever. It just needs to be stained." "It needs to be painted white," I tell him. "If you paint it, it will need to be painted every year. It just needs to be stained." Obviously, the fact that the wood is rotting badly enough underneath that the nails can be pulled out with two fingers and that the end of a couple of the boards had already broken off did not affect his definition of "lasting forever". Plus, I thought he was beginning to understand my tendency to lean toward painted furniture. "I stain it every year," I countered. "What's the difference between painting it and staining it?" He shrugged away, answerless. Besides, I already had the paint can and brush in my hands.And, as usual, I forgot to take a "before" pic, but I did take a photo of these little shelves (okay, so I almost had one finished painted, but at least I remembered before I did both of them) and they were laying on the ugly-table-in-question. Here's one of the chairs I've been wanting to recover. Trust me, this is a great picture of it. It's much uglier in person. I remember wanting me to pay $7 each for them, after first quoting me $7 for the pair. The manager overheard our conversation and let me have the two for $7. I probably still overpaid for them. Yeah, they look that bad. This chair has since been stripped and is ready for its new dressing. The wood is now fossil green and I'm hoping to finish recovering it tonight. Until tomorrow...