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About Maggie C

Stained glass artist, writer, respecter of life.

Weekend Wildcard: All Decked Out

I knew my deck project was a lost cause when I started. Having determined that there was more rotten wood than good, I should have followed everyone’s advice and torn the thing down.

But I was determined that I could at least make the deck safe enough to eke out one more year of use before demolishing it, and so I set out – with no particular plan – to fix it.

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Red marks the rot.

I ripped up the most rotten planks and filled in with lesser rotten planks. I cut the worst parts off of some half-rotten planks and nailed the better portions across the one- or two-beam spans they would still fit. I flipped some planks over so the cupping would turn to crowning (although I’m not sure what advantage I saw in doing that). The result was as hodgepodge as the process makes it sound.

I still saw potential. Build some steps here, fill in some holes there… maybe even use the beams that stuck out farther than my now reduced-size deck to frame planter boxes. By the time I was done, those House Beautiful photo spreads would pale in comparison to my deck.

Nothing up to this point required any monetary output. I aimed to continue that trend by repainting the deck with the same stuff I had used previously. The exact same stuff. The stuff I had purchased about 10 years ago. The stuff that had been sitting out in a shed, exposed to a decade of hot summers and freezing winters. It should still be good, right?

I pried open one of the five-gallon buckets of leftover paint. It was about half full and had separated into sludge at the bottom and murky liquid on top. After some effortful stirring, it looked usable. Maybe. There was another partial bucket of paint plus a full bucket, so I was good to go!

First, though, I scraped off the old paint that was peeling rather dramatically in some places. That took a long time, but I used it as a kind of meditative practice. Sitting on the warm deck, my 3” metal-bladed scraper in hand, I let my mind wander as I puttered along from plank to plank. The hardest part was avoiding splinters in my bottom.

I splurged for a gallon of deck primer because, after all, the previous paint job had only lasted eight years or so. The primer had to go on when the deck was dry. No problem. It hadn’t rained in two months, and in checking the forecast, there was only a 15% chance of rain. I checked a second weather app just to make certain. Then I primed the deck.

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The primer made the deck look all shiny and smoothed some of the splinters down, so it was already a huge improvement. After three hours of drying (per the instructions), the deck was ready to paint. It was getting a bit cloudy, but a 15% chance of rain means it’s 85% not likely to rain, right? Besides, the report had shown the chance of rain decreasing as the afternoon wore on.

So on to the painting. The unopened five-gallon bucket of paint was unusable; the sludge at the bottom had actually solidified. The two partial buckets were workable, and after combining them, I had just enough paint to cover the deck. It looked really good when I finished. I mean, really good!

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This is what the paint is supposed to look like. A thick, textured finish.

I cleaned up my painting tools in the garage utility sink, came inside and looked out the window at my beautiful deck. And it was raining. Yes, rain. Not just a trace. Real honest-to-goodness big drops like we hadn’t seen in months. And it kept raining.

Today my deck is splotched with what paint managed to stay on.  Where the paint went on thicker or had more protection from the rain, there is a gritty sludge that so far refuses to dry. It looks horrible. I mean, really horrible!

deck10

But! I’m still not giving up hope! When the remaining sludge dries enough that I can get out on the deck, I will reassess my options. I may have to invest in some paint that was manufactured in the current decade. I may have to admit that the end result will only be good for a year, if that.

At the end of most DIY projects around my home, I can stand back, look on with the satisfaction of knowing that I have made improvements, and most likely have gained a new skill or improved upon a skill already acquired. When this deck project is done… hmmm.

Well, there will be more room in the shed where the paint sat for years. That’s a plus. And I guess I could still turn the gaping holes between beams into creosote-laden flower beds. That just doesn’t bring on much of a sense of satisfaction, though.

Maybe the satisfaction will come when I rip the deck apart, plank by plank. The rain has stopped. This might be the perfect day for it. A little demolition work always lifts the spirits. And I wouldn’t have to buy more paint. A win all the way around, no?

Not Bride nor Groom

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You’re not his bride.
He’s not your groom.
You’ll never tango;
that dance takes two.

Beware the rose
clenched tight in your teeth.
It still carries thorns
the groom slyly bequeathed.

You claim vindication
to the near-empty church,
saying it’s you who has left
the groom in the lurch.

The groomsmen drift off,
gifts must be returned,
future in-laws sent home
by the bride sadly spurned.

The bridesmaids, too,
dressed up all the same
try in vain to save face
in the scorned bride’s name.

But they hike up their dresses
another wedding to seek
before the guests notice
how the bride’s bouquet reeks.

As break dancers take
to the reception hall floor,
the tango strains follow
diplomacy out the door.

Wedding crashers line up
awaiting a feast.
They’ll not go home hungry;
they will feed off the beast.

And so your romance
with clandestine ties
is unraveling now
before everyone’s eyes.

The moral is simple
for all those misled:
know with whom you are sleeping
before climbing in bed.

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“He’s not my bride, and I’m also not his bride or groom”
~ Russian President Vladimir Putin, in regards to Donald Trump. (9/5/2017)


“It takes two to tango. It seems to me, our U.S. counterparts for now are performing solo breakdance moves.”
~ Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov (9/1/2017)

Weekend Wildcard: Cuteness Break

1 WILDCARD

This past week has been a tempest of chaos on many fronts and in many parts of the world. We are in the midst of very stressful times, and with 24/7 media, it is easy to become overwhelmed by all the crazy stuff going on these days.

While it’s imperative to stay engaged — at whatever level seems right at the moment –, it’s also necessary to step back sometimes, unclench my jaws…

and look at photos of cute pets.

I know, I know… Facebook… Instagram… blogs… they’re glutted with fuzzy/furry/feathered little faces.

But you know what? I’m going to happily and shamelessly add to that glut. I’m going to indulge myself in cuteness overload. My blood pressure will thank me, my jaws might stop aching, and I might even lose that recently acquired eyelid tic.

Here’s hoping.

(BTW: Today is National Dog Day, but we’re going to let a couple of cats slip in here, too.)

cute pets7

Sebastian and Chules are hiding under the bed in response to my rendition of Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline.

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Finnigan has a very colorful personality.

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My cat Thursday is trying to look adorable so that I will feed her a second breakfast.

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Chules is learning to play chess.

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Bella in the snow

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Sebastian is out from under the bed.

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Chules and his buddy Brisco

Ahhh, I feel much better now.

I wish you all restful and pleasant moments this weekend.

Shalom.