refinishing the floor

That's what I'm doing tonight. I've done the other side underneath the rolled up rug and furniture, so at this point we're almost done, only 1/4 left after this.

I stripped all the old finish off, what was left of it anyway, crawled around rubbing with chemicals and steel wool.

Then I sanded spots. You can see where we've been walking for twenty some years. Last time I did the floor, other than waxing, was in 1989.

So we shoved it all to the side a couple weeks ago and began. Last week when I did the other side, we came home from Target and the house smelled like gas fumes. All the pilot lights were lit, but it smelled terrible.

We went out to the yard and called the gas company.

In an hour, they came, but what a long hour sitting in the back yard with all the kids and dogs, bored and hungry.

Tim came over and asked me, "So when is the house going to blow up?"

I told him I didn't think it would, actually.

"Pretty soon then?"

"No, probably not at all."

He peered at me, then looked back at the house, "Well, I really hope it doesn't. I got a lotta stuff in there."

Oh, Timothy.

In about ten minutes he wandered back to me, "So, I see it still hasn't blown up yet."

And then the gas company came and found a couple teeny gas leaks in the office, red tagged the place and said to get a professional plumber out to repair it.

Yes, we even know a plumber.

Jay did fix the leaks and turn the gas back on, but we really doubted the whole thing. Those little leaks have been there the whole time and our house is drafty. When all this happened, many windows were wide open to ventilate the varnish.

The guy insinuated we didn't know the smell of varnish from natural gas.

Pbbbfllt. I do so.


Turns out the gas company had put too much stink in the natural gas. They had calls everywhere all over town, even people who didn't have gas leaks, whose pilot lights were not able to burn off the quantity of stink.

So, Timothy, it was an error at the gas company. The house was never in danger of exploding.

Okay, Tim. Nobody is laughing here except you. Get your hand out of there.

So I'm in here now while the stain dries, then a coat of tung oil, and then a bath.

While I was sanding, Jay was hollering at me, "Vaaaal!" over the sander. I turned to look, annoyed--can't you see I'm sanding the floor? There he was in silhouette against the dining room light and it looked like he was picking up turds off the floor.

I said, "WHAT are you doing? Did you shit on this floor just to harass me? How dare you!

How. Dare. You."

He doubled over laughing, "No, no, it was Sidney!" (She doesn't like the rain, gets all seized up in the rain and can't go.)

But apparently her guts release nicely in the LIVING ROOM.

I told Maria when she came to the stairs, and she apologized and then asked where Sidney was. Her dad said, "She's outside. Can't you hear the barking?"

I said, "Yes, and may the owl take her."

Maria: "Mother, you really don't mean that."

Sigh, probably not. But could she quit barking and go crap outside or at least on a floor that's not UNFINISHED at the moment? The whole family room is sub-floor. She could crap a wave out there, but no. Right in here next to me. That's not right.

Tomorrow I'll put on a couple more coats of tung oil, and Saturday wax and buff the floor, and then the furniture can go back, and next week the last section. (Can't block all the doorways at once, you know.)


Here he is modeling the Halloween costume we found at the second hand store: Luigi. We have to find some white gloves and a mustache, but looking good, Buddy. love you so, Mom

a babysittin' week

These two pictures are from Tuesday.

The girl is fully mobile now. I put up the baby gate so she couldn't crawl out to the kitchen, but that didn't stop her. She came around the other way, through the dining room, had her party with the broom and the swiffer and advanced on to the dog water.

I was folding clothes, talking to her, forgot all about the ever-dreaded dog water until it was spreading all over the floor. I snatched her up so her clothes didn't get wet and washed her hands and put her over the baby gate while I wiped up the floor, muttering, I'm not proud to say, "Son of a bitch." (I don't think she heard me.)

This is a picture of b.g. sleeping in Uncle Tim's bed. He does take the most extravagant naps, hours of sleep, barefoot, in the sun, in a pile of pillow pets. Can you tell how jealous this makes me? Oh, blessed sleep, how I love you. (And I'm pretty fond of b.g. too.)

Okay today we had t.c. and his little brother l.c. for the morning. There was a soccer game out back with ever-changing rules and some bickering, though nothing serious. Look at how dead the grass is.

It rained later, gorgeous buckets of rain. Hallelujah.

Here's Lydia and l.c. with him telling her some amusing story. The kid is funny. I don't have a picture of this, but he threw his arms over his head and shouted, "No hands!" as if this sedate patio swing were a carnival ride. Lydia told him to be careful.

Here he is announcing that his feet are dirty. It's true, and yet dirtier feet we have seen.



Okay, here are the three amigos down in Lego-land. Once upon a time we had a whole room called Barbieland, which was 500 naked barbies with ratted out hair and all their debris aka accessories. Now we have the same thing, only in the language of Lego.

They wanted to go down there right away this morning, but I made them wait until Tim was awake. Some creations he cares about and some he doesn't, but I'm not making those decisions and neither are they. But later they went down there, after they'd completely obliterated the family room with a blanket fort.

This is another good thing about encyclopedias. They serve as excellent weights to hold down the corners of a blanket fort.

Tim's finally beginning to read, and she's right with him, and it's awfully nice to have someone to read to.


Here she goes, ready to take on the house, and all its unforgiving surfaces, dog hair, and potential catastrophe. Does she look concerned? Not really. That little glimmer in her eye looks downright adventurous.

And one last picture from the backyard where the sandbox is now full of leaves.

Is it already Thursday? Yes it is, as of twelve minutes ago. Time to sleep. love always, Val

baby laughter

Aww, yes, it's her, laughing her awesome little laugh at the thingy that shoots the nerf darts. Why she finds this so funny, we have no idea.

Thank goodness for babies, and aunties too. love you girls, Grandma

sunday at the lake

Was spent in hours of swimming, and goofing around in the yard.

And they worked on the deck.

Something weird happened to the camera, and I snapped this one of her, trying to see if it still worked. It seems to.



The water was a little cold, but the sun was hot.







Okay, they caught this water bug down at the sand bar and brought it back to show Joe for identification. He identified it as, "Water Bug."

They didn't want to let it go back on the beach because they still wanted to swim and it was far too freaky looking, so they let it go in Charlie's lagoon next door.




Yeah, the end of the season approaches, with lots to do. But nothing more for today. In a couple hours, it'll be Monday, so time for bed. love, Val

a weekend of deck building and other things

Friday night there was one-card poker.

Here's a picture of John's trusty dog.


And here are these girls, enjoying a sleepover.

Joe worked on his fishing pole.

And the deck got going

There was a bike ride.







Here they are mixing cement.

Joe sailing while the breeze was good.


Here's l.c. working with his own set of tools.

And driving his cars on Sam.

Here's b.g. getting a lift back from somewhere.


See the deck all framed up in the background? Dan's wiping something off the kid's face.

Oh yeah, and the matchbox cars, gotta have those.

And they took a walk to the lake.

It was a good weekend, and the foundation and surface of the deck are complete.

When we're there on weekends like this, and there are four families, each with its own unique rhythm, all mooshed up together, it requires a lot of letting go--letting go of schedules, and habits, and ideas, and expectations, and a lot of being in the moment.

The only thing to really hang onto is a sense of humor.

Over the years, as I've grown old and have observed a lot, it occurred to me some time ago that we are all aware of the times when we're extending patience to other people.

But what we're oblivious to (me totally included!) is those moments when other people are extending patience to US. But you gotta know that they are. If you knew when, obviously you'd cease and desist, but the trick is that we really don't know.

But I'm supremely grateful for you kids, and the fact you ARE patient and big hearted enough so that weekends like this can happen, where dozens of pancakes and dozens of eggs are eaten at breakfast, and entire pans of chip dip and brownies disappear, and where there's screaming and laughing and tattling and crying and hugging and running and video games and mayhem.

I'm also grateful for very, very quiet Sunday nights when I can sit here and smile and go to bed happy--because of you. love you all so, Mom and Dad