Finding Joy

New Tea

Annie Sloan on the Walls

 All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.

T. E. Lawrence

After pancakes it is a slow Saturday start on the to-do list.

Wearily locking the door last night, I trudged through the snow to the pickup for the drive home thankful that I didn’t have to crawl through the back window.  I had locked my keys inside the truck at lunchtime.  Jerry asked if I was lady-like getting in.   Ha Ha.

I breathed in the fresh crisp air deeply and looked up, refreshed and satisfied.  Stars twinkled brightly in the Big Dipper far overhead in the clear Wyoming night, worthy of a double-take.  Reluctantly opening the door, I stepped into warmth and dropped everything, relieved to find my missing wallet in my hand, covered by the clothes I had changed out of after dinner.

I was woozy over the fumes of my waxing.  No, not that kind, either.  What was the purpose of going to all this effort, anyway?  Just to avoid removing dated pink-flowered wall paper from paneled walls.  We have gone that route before and ended up tearing it all up and replacing the paneling with sheetrock.  Not going there, this time; had to try something else. 

“Did you get any paint on the wall?”  My husband gave me a curious look but I know that even though he brushed away something from my cheek at lunch it was probably Wendy’s buttermilk dip, not paint.  This time it probably wasn’t paint that he was looking at, either.  I would guess the Ghost of Christmas Past reappeared in the fine dust I sanded off the walls and she was me.  I felt dry dust coating my skin, my hair, in my nose.  I have learned to paint without painting much of myself in the process – usually – considering the amount of painting I do, that is.

Two colors of Annie Sloan (Ochre and Old White) applied lightly over what wallpaper stuck firmly to the wall, then clear wax, then…  Well, a picture is worth a thousand words.   The wall – not me!

In the shower I noticed green paint all the way down my calf from 24 hours before.  I had wiped it off quickly then started scooping up the huge puddle of green paint (Versailles) that was quickly soaking into the new forest green plush carpet; a last minute spill.  I was finishing up the vacuuming, being industrious; cleaning up the mess so when I came back it would be encouraging to begin.  Big pieces were gathered up.  Tiny bits of wall paper were vacuumed by a cheap vacuum.  Some renter had left it behind and it probably needs a fresh bag by the looks of things.  At 11:00 P.M. Exhausted Husband was lying on the floor waiting while Afternoon Napper Wife finished some edge cleaning, moving fast.  Over goes the paint, lid gives way.  Green paint on me, on the new carpet, we face the music - together, because we really want to save the brand new carpet.

 

There goes that early finish for the night.  He didn’t say much.  And when he did, his tone made me decide it wasn’t the time for cheery small talk.  Many buckets later, the water turned very light green.  We covered the wet area with several sopping paper towels, a plastic garbage bag and an extra piece of carpet.   Rug Doctor scheduled (me again).  

This is the first week of my New Year’s Resolutions.  I wasn’t even certain I was going to make any this year.  Now I am remembering why I hesitated – and why I ended up with a list. Here we are, four late nights this week in addition to two evenings spent cleaning the garage and sending odds and ends to the big shop, another project.  Another several projects - too many projects.  This rental re-do is months and several promises past its deadline.  It was not the number one thing on my list.  In fact, it did not appear on my resolutions at all.  It just floated to the top by default.

My list is not about work but joie de vivre.  Moments were stolen from my jobs for my joy – to read a book, call a friend, learn the Greek alphabet from youtube.com, and cook a nice meal.  At the end of the week, I think of the things on my list I didn’t get done…and the ones I did.   There were moments I spent just processing – productive in a way that doesn’t seem to count concretely anywhere on my list, but necessary quiet moments sort of like dreaming, refreshing – those that dream in the daytime.  

It isn’t always about getting things done but while I painted, Things That Matter played on my cell phone. Multi-tasking helped me get settled doing my project.  I learned a salsa step while working out, stole moments to take pictures, sent out a birthday card, and refilled the dishwasher while answering questions.  I studied Greek in the car and folded laundry while – oh you get the idea – speaker phones are handy.  

Things to do: 

• Put a notepad by my bed for writing things down. 
• Get the money jar started.
• More Greek
• More Spanish 
• More cooking, home cleaning, entertaining
• Major Bookwork Season - quit procrastinating.