Although my opening line probably resonates with a lot of people, my mother never said that.
To be honest I can’t remember anything she said from my childhood that annoyed me… but in later years, whenever I forgot something I wanted to tell her? She would say, “It must not have been very important.”
To which I always wanted to reply, “Oh yes, now I remember. Your house is on fire .”
My father painted this large canvas when he was in Hawaii during WWII.
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I never questioned when a man at war would find time to paint because my father painted anywhere, everywhere, all the time… even if he only had ten minutes.
This painting has hung over our bed in 4 different homes and hangs there still.
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My father was mostly a water colorist so his oils are rare, I only have two. The frame is basic, handmade with whatever was nearby at the time. My mother never liked it… so it was hidden in a closet until I got married and adopted it 40 years ago.
Am I overly fond of Hawaiian palm tree scenes? No. Does the tropical island design blend with our house in rural Maine? Probably not. But historical provenance and sentimental value trump decor every time.
Point of this blog?
Since we seem to be redoing everything else in our home.. I decided it was time to update this old girl as well.
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Which wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped.
Mind you, I knew this would be pricey… isn’t everything these days? But since it’s an oil that didn’t need to be restretched, an oil that didn’t need a mat or glass … I was hoping to get away for $300-$400.
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This frame?
$825.00
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This one?
Almost $1,300.
*Gulp!*
It’s clearly been a long time since I had anything framed.
We bought her in 2013 and due to always taking my husband’s car when we go somewhere together, she has been driven a paltry, gentle 77,000 miles. Always garaged, Ethel is still pretty and nowhere near worn out. But my husband has been after me for two years now to buy a new car while we can still get some decent money for Ethel. We’ve been spending an utter fortune on home renovations so I kept putting him off… but this week?
I caved to the pressure and we went car shopping. Being loyal to Subaru and wanting another Forester, we found a new 2024 fully loaded Touring.
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My husband fell in love with the two tone leather interior.
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But for me, it had two strikes against it.
#1 – It’s a 2024 and the 2025’s are already here.
#2 – It’s black. The same color as my last two vehicles. I’ve driven black for 22 years.
I’m seriously over black.
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This is a 2025.
Totally redesigned and chock full of goodies. Truly, there’s so much high tech on these cars it will take me a year to learn how to run it.
Problem? This was a Limited trim and to get the two tone interior you have to upgrade to Touring.
So we dealer hopped for three solid days. To every dealer in Maine. ( Don’t be impressed, we’re not a big city dealership state .. there are only 7. )
We even went across the border to New Hampshire. Nothing. Apparently the Touring Foresters are selling out before they even hit the lot.
We only found one…
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But they wouldn’t let us test drive it because someone had already claimed it with a deposit.
If I want one, I’m going to have to order it and wait a couple of months.
Work has resumed on the front porch replacement and there’s a whole lotta thinking goin’ on.
( If you read that while humming Jerry Lee Lewis, you’re my people)
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As I mentioned before, my husband is not a contractor. Not a builder by any means.
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He’s never worked with composite decking before… and if you think it’s as simple as laying wooden deck boards you’d be wrong.
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Our old deck had small wooden boards running vertically, from lawn to house. That’s what the frame was set up for. So of course my husband decided to run the new ones horizontally because it means less cutting and measuring.
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And while he added a few more supports, he didn’t make them 16” on center like you’re supposed to. More on this mistake later…
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And since he changed the plan, he now has to picture frame the boards which means mitered corners.
This has never been his strong suit and just one of the reasons why I wanted to wait for a professional to tackle this project.
And across the entire length of our nightmare, packed to the rafters basement….
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I cursed him.
On all of the 23 trips it took me to clear my patio table of his crap boxed up treasure.
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It may not look like much, but the boxes weighed a ton and I have a bad knee.
Explanation for my cursing?
A patio table belongs on the patio. Or in our case, on the back deck. But right after we relocated it to the garage… when the contractor replaced the deck last year… my husband piled a bunch of crap stuff on it. I’ve been after him for, count them… eleven! months to move his crap things.
Eleven months.
But our deck was still bare.
So last week I dragged every last piece of crap off the table and back down to the basement.
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If anyone needs 74 old issues of Life magazine? I’m your girl.
But after that workout?
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Success.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 