Dreaming of Pebble Beach

I started painting our house last summer. I primed it in splotches here and there and then the rain came. My next door neighbors got a fabulous view of white sprayed-on splotches from their formal dining room all fall, winter, summer, and now.

I am sure they love me.

This summer, I made all sorts of promises to myself to finish it up, but the weather did not cooperate.

This has been a record rainy year in the Northwest. All summer it rained and when it didn't, invariably I was committed to this swim meet or that. So, our house remained a white elephant in our curb appeal-conscious little suburb. It remained painted white a la graffiti, in splotches. Half-painted walls. Spackled holes. It was a very ADHD paint job of 20 minutes here and there with never one side being finished. Polka-dotted is an understatement.

On top of it all, I am hand painting since the high quality paint I purchased (over @#$% $1000 for paint!!) plugged up the not-so-quality sprayer I purchased.

Fast forward to this fall: It's been raining for the last three weeks straight and it has been forecast to rain for another 3 weeks. BUT! Yesterday, there was a window. Not sun really, but a respite of dryness. So I painted and painted. We missed swim team because, By God, I was painting. My kids walked home from school after I didn't pick them up. Poor Eldest walked 2 miles home after cross-country practice. I painted until there was no more light. Seriously, the moon was out. Every once in a while, I felt a sprinkle and I painted even more furiously. I said a little prayer every few minutes.

Guess what? I bet your are thinking something negative, eh? It is my blog after all and I seem to always note the crap. Well, today people, something good happened.

I woke up to high winds and had a oh, shit moment. Oh, please, I thought, let the paint be dry. I had a vision of rivulets of Behr semi-gloss in "Pebble Beach" making trails in my bark.

Nope, the winds came without rain. In fact, it was a warm wind. It was 70 degrees today. My paint dried and I got another 4 hours of painting in today. I was painting at 7 AM until I worked in the classroom; then immediately following that, I painted some more.

While it's only 25-30 percent done, at least I improved my neighbor's view and got rid most of the primer. It's entirely gone from that side of the house and the color we chose is pretty similar to what's already up there, so it's blending a bit better. Whew! The guilt is easing. It's not such an eyesore.

Back to today, I painted until 2 minutes before I picked up PB from school. So I'm still wearing two day old paint splattered clothes. Yeah! Here comes the down side.

PB's practice is on Mercer Island. For those of you not familiar with the Seattle area, this is a very chi-chi, affluent, fashion-conscious enclave. And I look like a skanky homeless person.

There's paint in my hair. And on my hands. In my wedding ring. On my big butt that brushed against a wall in the dark last night. Yep, I'm embarrassed and so I did a drop and run with PB. Unfortunately, with only 1 hour to kill, I couldn't leave the island.

So here I sit at the island's public library with cramped up fingers from hours of painting. There is paint in my hair and I look like I should be a contractor at Home Depot. Meanwhile the local teenagers in their Hollister, Abercrombie, and Juicy give me once overs. The guy at the computer next to me, wearing a crisp blazer, noticed the splotches which look suspiciously like dirt and finished his 'puting quickly.

Whatever. I am happy. I painted well today my friends and that's what's important.

I have to admit I felt like brushing up next to crisp blazer guy just to see his reaction. I'm sure with my no make up, dirty clothes, and paint everywhere, he might have offered me a dollar. Why not? That's like half of a Starfucks, thank you very much!

Besides, a latte would match nicely with my Pebble Beach-ed fingers.

'lisciously scribed by Scout's Honor @ 4:24 PM