Now, onto my topic. My partner, Laurie, is in my humble opinion, the greatest singer to ever grace this planet. :) I’ve been a guitar “plunker” for years, although the drums is my true talent. Recently, we pulled the guitars off the wall which he had hanging for more decoration than anything. Our kids have expressed an interest in learning how to play and I’ve done my best, on my good days, to help them. An idea occured to me…why not build my own guitar? Granted, I’m not allowed around power tools at the moment, which bugs me because a wonderful friend bought me a bandsaw at a garage sale a month or so ago. But, I can use hand tools when my body is cooperating. Does anyone have a recommendation on books, videos, DVDs, etc.? WoodCraft offers guitar-making classes from time to time and I hope to go someday, but until then I’d like to get my hands/eyes on a good reference. If my illness has taught me anything, it’s to keep having goals and never stop dreaming and scheming.

I’m now headed to the Projects page so I can admire the incredible talent on this site!! Cheers!!!! :)

“Good morning, sunshine” I cheerily said, “Who pee’d in your Post Toasties this morning?” I laughed. The sentiment wasn’t returned. “You wanna call OSHA on me, huh?” I stopped and looked at her, trying to remember Saturday. Oh yeah, the entry. I had jokingly said to my co-workers that OSHA would have a fit about how we were supposed to paint in the entry. We were all joking around about it, making each other laugh. Apparently that part wasn’t conveyed to her. “We were joking around! You remember joking and laughing, right?” She still bored her eyes through me like lasers. “Don’t threaten me with OSHA, you shithead. I don’t take threats lightly.” Now it was MY turn to turn on my laser eyes. “Hey, you need to grow a sense of humor AND just plain common sense. I don’t threaten about stuff. I just plain do it. If I was to make such a call, I would do it without saying a word to you or to anyone else. I don’t waste the oxygen with threats. You’re just gonna have to come up with another way to paint that entry or admit to the owner that you bit off more than you can chew. I ain’t standing on the top of no damn ladder risking injury to myself because your too cheap to rent a scaffolding system. Since you think its a piece of cake, then you get your fat ass up the ladder and do it yourself. I’ll be in the entry bath room when you go boom and bounce.” I turned my lasers on one of my co-workers who happened to be a relative of her’s. “And I suppose you were the one that ran your mouth off about all of this. As I recall, you chimed in on the jokes just as much as the rest of us. Did you bother telling her that, or did you think it would be cute to make up a story and blame me?” He stood there like a deer caught in headlights, no response. “That’s what I thought.” I turned on my heel and started in to the house. “By the way, I found the water shut off. I’m removing the tank to the toilet because I can’t reach behind it without getting paint all over it. If you wanna gig me for the time, go ahead. At least I’ll feel better about doing it right.”

The rest of the day was miserable. I felt bad about retaliating like I did, but I’d have enough being the scape-goat just because I was new. And when I’m backed up against a wall I tend to become a cougar.

I finished my job, got paid and went home. We made up over a few beers and laughs. Friendship is important to me and I’m big enough to apologize when I think I’m wrong, even when I’m not.

I told her about Laurie and I wanting to put down a wood floor. We had a cream colored carpet with 2 black dogs and 3 cats. The cream color was turning into a mottled cream/black. We have a pug and a lab/newfoundland mix that sheds at least 2 dogs worth of hair a day. She said she’d be happy to help and gave us a break on the price. Sounded good, so we shook on it. The next weekend the three of us headed to Lumber Liquidators to pick out our flooring. We wanted bamboo but couldn’t afford it, so we settled on a laminate wood that we both liked. We bought the wood and the supplies and headed back to the house. I had measured and re-measured the area and my friend and measured it a third time to be sure. Back at the house the rest of the crew was there, the furniture had been moved and they were ready to go. I had spent most of the week pulling up the carpet and scraping the concrete so that much would be out of the way. The saw was set up and away we went. Laurie had fun taking pictures and I learned more about flooring. We got the entry, living room, hallway finished by the end of the day. It was good. Just 3 bedrooms to go!

I haven’t mentioned the drop cloths yet. We didn’t have that many. Luckily I brought one that had been Pop’s, but we were still short. I wanted to start in the bedroom while thinking about how to tackle that monster of an entry, but to do so meant pulling the drop cloths from the entry into the bedroom. Plus, the furniture had been moved to the center of the room and it wasn’t covered. The owners had thrown old sheets over it, but I knew that a good glob of paint could soak right through the thin cotton. I pointed out the lack of drop cloths. “A good painter doesn’t need all those drop cloths. You shouldn’t be making a mess in the first place. Just be careful” she told me.

I had only witness one painter who could attempt that…Pop. He had been painting for over 30 some odd years and he COULD do a ceiling without a drop cloth, I saw it with my own eyes, but chose not to. See, he had ethics. Why risk getting paint on furniture or the floor when you can put down a drop cloth in no time flat. All of our experience combined didn’t equal Pop’s and I didn’t trust myself, much less anyone else in the room, to paint without enough drop cloths! Plus, no one had bothered to put down any protective plastic on the floor to keep us from tracking paint from our shoes all over the house. More on that later.

She left and the workers revolted. I pulled 2 drop cloths and my ladder into the bedroom. The hall upstairs was finished. The other two would start on the entry and I would start the bedroom. Fair enough. I layed one drop cloth on the floor and used the other to cover part of the furniture that was near. When I finished the section, I’d remove my boots, leaving them on the drop cloth and pull it down to the next section, cover the next part of the furniture, step back on the drop cloth to put my boots back on and go back to work. Obvisouly this slowed me down a lot. But it was the only thing we could think of doing.

Quittin time rolled around. I carefully removed the drop cloth, paying special attention to keep the work side together so it could be unfolded properly the next day with risk of putting the yucky side down on the carpet. I inspected the furniture to make sure any stray paint drops were cleaned up, thankfully there were only a couple small, tiny blips that came up with a damp cloth. We put everything up where it belonged. My friend and the owner was on their way there so she told me to go ahead and lock up and leave. I did.

I hadn’t been gone more than 10 minutes when my cellphone rang. It was my friend. “Hey, who painted in the bedroom?” I told her that I did. A moment of tense silence. “Did you bother to cover the furniture?” Yes I did, even cleaned up a few spots before I left that managed to find its way beyond the drop cloth. Still more silence. “This room is a disaster! You’ve got paint all over the floor, on the furniture and the owner is livid! I’m gonna have to spend my Sunday cleaning up your mess.” Huh?? I had checked and re-checked everything! I didn’t see paint on the carpet! I walked it in my socked feet to make sure of it! Maybe I had missed some rebel drops on the furniture? But a disaster was going a bit far. I felt horrible! What had I missed? I asked if she wanted me to come back and take care of it. “No, don’t bother. Just be here on Monday to finish the entry and everything else. I only gave this job 3 days and I want it done in 3 days, period.” I spent the rest of the evening and all day Sunday feeling like crap. I’d make everything right on Monday, I swore it.

My friend finally called. She had a house to paint. It would be me and 2 other people. We were painting the kitchen, the dining room, the master bedroom and bath, the entry, up the stairs and the 2nd floor hallway. All the paint was there. She would stop by to see how we were doing. I showed up promptly at 8am, had a smoke outside while we discussed the game plan and went inside to start work. I went to my truck to dispose of my cigarette butt. “Where are you going?” she asked, pointing back to the house. “I’m ditching my butt in my ash tray!” I hollered back over my shoulder. “Jesus Christ, just throw the thing down on the drive way and get back here!” I didn’t listen. My smoking is MY nasty habit and I wasn’t about to litter these people’s driveway or yard with the remanants of MY nastiness. I walked up the driveway, past her and into the house. She muttered something to me about being a pansy. I laughed and told her blow it out her blow hole. I WAS KIDDING. She knew me well enough to know when I was kidding and when I wasn’t. She cut me a look that could’ve bored a hole through concrete.

The kitchen went off without a problem. One of my co-workers used a 1” artist brush to do the cut in at the top of the wall. Good! Someone who is as obsessive/cumplusive as I was! We got along great. The conversation was wonderful! Just enough chattering to help the day go by but not enough to keep me from losing focus on my work. Believe me, I love to have fun at work, but not at the cost of losing focus. I was rolling the dining room a deep wine color, satin finish. After working about one section of the wall I stepped back for observation. It wasn’t going on very smooth. I knew that satin and gloss finishes were tricky, especially the deep, rich tones, so I was concerned about some of the roller marks. I was making to back roll and maintain a wet edge, but it was still not looking right. I called my friend for a second opinion. She said to let it dry and see what happens. While its drying, going upstairs and start on the hall and call her back in an hour or so. At lunch she stopped by to have a gander. Much to my relief, the paint dried just fine and I was able to continue where I left off.

The entry was a nightmare! It was over 20 feet high with a decortive window up top, nearly big enough to stand in. I asked how we were supposed to cut in at the ceiling without being able to reach it by brush. She pulled out these square spone looking things, attached it to my pole, stood at the very top of the ladder and showed me how it was going to be done. I thought to myself, “You’ve GOT to be kidding me! That looks like crap!!” She smiled and handed the pole to me, “And that’s how it’s done, peckerhead.” I blinked a couple of times and said, “Wouldn’t be better to rent a scaffold? I mean, standing on top of that ladder isn’t the smartest thing to do. Besides, that ain’t gonna work inside that window”. She gave me a disgusted look, “You’re small enough. Get your ass inside the window and paint it from there.”

WHAT??!

After cleaning up the yard and putting the tools away, I went back inside to tell my friend that I was done. “Ill tell you when you’re done” she said, dropping her hammer and stalking out the front door. Once we got to the yard she whipped around, “What do you mean sending them down to the other house to question me? All you had to do was clean the shit up inside and outside.” I took a step back. “They started asking me a bunch of questions that I couldn’t answer! What was I supposed to do? Make shit up?” She rolled her eyes and shoved her cellphone in my face. “You got one of these, right? Use it, shithead! Next time, just call me and put them on the phone. Don’t EVER send them to me, got that? Now go home.”

She paid me for the days work, minus the trip for the nails, and I drove home with a sinking feeling that something wasn’t right. Something was rotten in Denmark.

I was about to find out.

It was a small apartment, one bedroom, one bath that were being sold as condos. The location was prime so the price was high. My task was to take down the wallpaper, repair and sand the drywall and prime it for painting. I started in the small bathroom. The wallpaper came down pretty easy with a few minor dings that were easily repaired and sanded smooth. Behind the toliet tank was a whole other story. I couldn’t get my hands back there to remove it. I asked where the water shut off was so I could remove the tank. She looked at me like I was nuts. “Just go as far as you can. I ain’t bothering to take the tank off. We’ll just paint over the wallpaper behind it”. Huh? That’s just gonna look like crap! I told her as much. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in a little closer than was comfortable into my personal space and said, “Just do like I said to do and quit wasting time”. I didn’t feel right about this, but seeing as I was the new kid on the block I did as I was told. The bedroom was easy and had it finished by the time everyone started winding down for the day.

Quittin time was at 5pm. I had finished the bathroom and it had passed her inspection, behind the tank and all. I still needed to do the wallpaper trim in the living room and clean up. She told me to finish up, close and lock the windows and make sure the door was locked behind me when I left. I refilled my squirt bottle, got the ladder and started in. Ran into a few spots where the glue just wouldn’t let go and had to repair the drywall. I finished up around 9pm, had the mess cleaned up and into the dumpster, windows locked tight. tools put away, checked the windows on the outside to make sure they were locked before closing the front door and checking to make sure it was locked. I felt good about what I had done and went home with a smile…tired but oh so happy.

The next day was painting…YAY! Everything had been primed the say before and was ready. Again, I started in the bathroom. The ceiling had been done by the time I got there, so I tackled the walls. It was tricky getting the wall above the where the tub/shower ended, but I managed. Decided to brush it instead of roll it because of the tight fit with the ladder and the space. The bedroom was a breeze. The carpet had been removed because we were installing a wood floor so it was just bare concrete and I didn’t have to worry so much about splatter on the floor or on the trim. Granted, I worked slow. Hey, I was new and still developing my skill. Besides, this wasn’t my house so I wanted to do a better job here than I would in my own home. “You’re too slow. You’re gonna have to pick up the pace.” she said, eyeing the walls that didn’t have a drip or roller mark in sight. Well, I knew that I was slow, but it wasn’t a race or anything and she knew from the start that I was still developing my technique and skill. But I took the advice and promised to develop faster. After lunch I watched as they laid the wood floor. I learned about leaving a gap for expansion and examing each piece before it was set for dings or bad marks. Once the floor was laid, she showed me how to use a pneumatic finishing nailer gun…a tool that I fell madly in love with! I carefully observed how the measurements were done and watched how they were cut on the miter saw. I nailed down the trim with a goofy grin on my face and would step back to check my work. The trim was nice and snug on the floor, no gaps, the nails were nice and sunk in just below flush and looked smooth. How could this be called work when it was too much fun!!!! Then we started putting the door trim back on, my gun hung on my work belt like Sharon Stone in “The Quick and the Dead”. All in all, it was great. I got paid, the realtor was happy and had sold the unit 3-4 days after it went on the market. I had found my niche and looked forward to the next job with gusto. If I had only known…

The first major project is an entertainment center. We’re still working out the dimensions and I’ve got AutoCad and SketchUp as my tools. We have a 32” flat panel LED TV right now, but would like to get a 48” in the future. We also have the Xbox 360 and the Wii, a small stereo with 2 speakers, a cable box and a DVD recorder. We have about 300 DVDs and a handful of games. Laurie wants to keep it low profile with maybe two towers on the sides for books and other do-dads. I look forward to reading everyone’s comments and suggestions. This will definatelyl be a community credited project because I’ll be asking tons of questions and looking for guidance throughout.