Saturday

Well, today I shall not paint, nor do much of anything except let my muscles benefit as they quietly improve after the week’s repeated climbs up and down the ladder and stretchy reaches of arms. I had been thinking I would climb up the ladder again as Der Bingle handed me pieces of tape to mark the separation of wall and ceiling, BUT it occurs to me that not only would I be stretchy reaching, but I couldn’t stretch far enough to do the entire working part of the kitchen with just one climb up the ladder.  So, I have pushed that activity to next week.

We talked with Quentin last night and, hearing the light color of paint I was using, not to mention the name  – Vanilla Milkshake – he suggested I should let Shane dip paws and snout in purple paint and randomly express his creativity. Oddly enough, I was not enthusiastic about this idea.

I have closed the flue in the den fireplace and I think I need to post a note – a big one, not a little stickie one, on the mantle to that effect. Nothing like a little smoky surprise. Hopefully, the blue fireplace cover with the flowers painted on it will be a further reminder. I couldn’t help myself: I toted the fireplace screen outside and leaned it against the house, with the thought that rain could wash away all the winter’s soot and ash debris.

The basement fireplace is a different matter, however, and I plan on having many more fires there yet. It is cozy to sit down there in front of the fire and watch a movie . . . and well, if it is convenient to toss anything unwanted into the fire, so be it. At the present I am rolling up old pizza boxes and feeding them in. It is also nice to be able to stick a couple of hot dogs on a skewer and let them roast over the coals.

Were Mother still alive, she would think of something more complex to do, such as suspending a big old iron pot over the fire and making authentic settler stew. I am content with hot dogs and my skewer is actually telescopic, although if we were to talk of potions, I might be persuaded to go the pot route. Double, double, toil and trouble and all that, don’tcha know?