I Need to Explain

I have been told more than once that I have a very dry sense of humor. I find humor, not in the slap-stick or blatent, but rather in the ironies and subtleties of life. Those small things that we all have in common. Like doing the mending. No, I do not hate mending. In fact, my whole life is based on one form of mending or another. I love to take old furniture and refinish it. I get a kick out of using scraps to make something beautiful and useful. My two working careers were all about helping mend people's health and improving the environment we live in. I even started a ministry that encourages others to help one another when in crisis (both major and minor). Mending is actually a pleasure, a small task that extends the life and usefulness of fabrics. I merely used it as a metaphor for life.

The old door I brought into the house from a leaky shed for the guys to use in my sewing room is a good example of mending. It had several coats of old peeling paint on it, as well as dirt from having been used, re-used, and then stored for many years. The guys laughted and made jokes and even had serious thoughts about tossing it. But it is a solid door. It just needed a lot of TLC. I put in several hours on that door. First washing, using a paint scraper, and then a lot of sanding. At that point the guys hung the door, still they had reservations. But yesterday I did a final sanding, wiping down, and finally applying two coats of fresh new paint. Even now it doesn't look new. But I don't want a new door in my 87 year old house. It would look out of place. I think this old door looks pretty good for it's age.