Regifted

For my 30th birthday (the first one), I was given a lovely set of patio furniture by my husband.  Not teak, but some other nice oily tropical hardwood, it withstood the ravages of thirteen several winters, without ever being covered or coddled.  Somewhere along the way the table fell to bits, and the cushions got lost in a move.  But the chairs and bench hung on, useful for piling stuff on if not much else, without a table.

Campbell was the first to point out that for a family with such a small house, we really don't spend much time in the back yard.  "How come we don't have a picnic table outside?"  How come, indeed!  In a fit of can-do spirit, I decreed that Campbell and I would build a new table together.  And build it we did:

Campbell became an expert power sander.

We felt pretty pleased with ourselves when the base was finished.

And once the  table top was on, we decided to try and resurrect our poor old chairs.  Every joint was loose.  All were covered with a combination of moss, mildew, and mold.  In our climate, we seldom have hard freezes, but the constant moisture turns everything green.  And Lo, there was MUCH sanding.  And yes, we did wear dust protection.  Yuck.  But miraculously, under all that grime, the hardwood was still rock solid.  With all their screws and bolts re-tightened, the chairs were really as good as new.  With one exception:  

This one had a massive crack along its top rail that required some persuasion back into position.  And its seat refused to quit wiggling, even after a second round of screw tightening.  I just couldn't bear to leave this soldier behind, though.  Sweaty and sunburned, and truly tired of the whole episode, I placed a number of new screws in strategic spots.  And by a number, I mean, like, a billion.  We can sell this chair for scrap metal.  It's got an infrastructure like Wolverine's skeleton now.

We put on a coat of pretty green stain (Lindsay picked the color: "Aligator") to seal the chairs.  We think we'll seal the table with something clear, later in the summer after it's had time to dry out a bit more.  We made it with decking cedar, which is really wet when you first get it.

We worked so hard, and feel so proud of our accomplishments.  Not only is the table just what we hoped it would be; we got the satisfaction of having rescued the pretty old chairs from the brink of mildew-struction.  And we did it all together.  It's like getting that lovely birthday present, all over again.  And of course, I'm still only 30, so it's like that stuff in the middle never happened.

Think I'll go knit outside for a while.

Love Letter

My Beloved Blog,

Happy Fifth Blogoversary!  Words can't describe all that you mean to me, but I'll have to try, because you have no thumbs and wouldn't know what to do if I gave you yarn.

When we started out together five years ago, I didn't even have a camera other then the crappy one in my flip phone.  You never let on how bad the photos were. 

When we first met, I barely had the guts to post at all, but you patiently reminded me with your readership stats that if I wanted to reach the knitters, I had better show up with something to say.  When you told me that we had 10 real subscribers to our rss feed, I knew that I'd be devoted to you till the end. 

You never bug me when I fail to post.  You never judge me when I say something dumb.  You help me remember what I was doing last summer, and last week, and yesterday.  You gently remind me how far I've come, and how far I still have to go.

There have been losses, and successes, and failures, and hilarity.  All the things we hope will fill a well-lived life.  But mine have the great good fortune to be shared with the Gentle Readers.

Oh Blog, if I could have guessed at the blessings the Gentle Readers have brought to my life, I would have started you much earlier!  Back when we began, I thought that Blogs were like belly buttons, and everybody had one.  What you taught me, though, is that there really are people who want to read what I write, see what I knit, and share their lives and knitting with me.  What better discovery could there be? 

Blog, Dear Blog, you've made me a better writer, a better knitter, and a better person.  You've helped me make new friends, and rediscover old ones.  You've become a full-fledged member of my family.  We say things like "I don't know, maybe you should ask the Blog;" and "Wait till I tell the Blog!", and my personal favorite: "Mom, look what I made! Can we put it on the Blog?".

In a way, It seems like I've known you for longer than five years.  You are the sparkly pink diary with a golden lock and key that I never had.  You are the place where I can put it all, with the assurance that it lands in the capable hands of friends.

I Love You, Blog,

Your Knitter

Catching Up

Greetings, Gentle Readers!  I've missed you, and I thank you sincerely for your good wishes while I took a break to rest my eyes.  Happy Belated Independence Day to you all.

I've been making hats.  Lots of hats.  Crazy hats, pretty hats, scary hats.  I'm feeling a little bit like Bartholomew Cubbins.

And the good news is that I've reached the halfway point on my book!  And my publisher likes it so well they've asked me to make another one, this time on slippers.  Yay!

Lindsay attended band camp.  Campbell and I are building a picnic table together.  Phillip is teaching summer school and acting in a play (his first in about 15 years).  It's a good summer.  We're busy, we're hot, and mostly, we're together.

I had a crazy idea (the kind that usually come to me when there is no possibility of acting on them) that I should really adapt this rabbit into a sweater.  What do you think?  I would totally wear that:

Oh, and my eyes are slowly improving, thank you for asking.  I'm no longer wearing dark glasses indoors, and all it took was getting a shot in my eyeball.  Gross, but worth it.  More or less.  What's new with you?