Blinds and Banana Muffins and "Home . . ."

Painting station . . .

I am so sorry for the delay in reporting about the Blind Project, truly, because I know y'all have been sitting on freakin' PINS AND NEEDLES, waiting for the results. I mean, really, I asked myself: Self? Who doesn't have at least one set of pathetic vertical blinds hanging limply in one's house, that one is just dying to keep, if only one knew how to paint them?! What? Only two of you? And you like yours just the way they are? Well, just stfu and humor me, because I went through all the trouble already, okay? Okay, thanks.

What? Jen didn't put down newspaper?!? Surprised . . . not. 

For the record, it did not take me two days to paint these babies, just took that long to report my results to y'all, as I had things come up that interfered with reporting my results (like, a life, for one. Not much of a life, but a life, nonetheless. . . ). The Blind Incident itself took only a half a day—maybe a third of a day—and shouldn't have even taken that long, but I kept running into little self-induced snafus along the way, so what should have been a few hours, tops, ended up taking several.

Drying station . . .

Beautiful and bright white . . .

Even so, I wouldn't discourage anyone from taking on such a project, if so inclined (which, I'd guess 99.9999% of you aren't. I'm speaking to the .0001% of my reading audience—which, after that calculation, has been reduced to the physical equivalent of a deer tick—who still have oh-so-last-century vertical blinds hanging on their windows). The results of my blinds are stunning—I mean, you can only go up! from sponge painted vertical blinds, right? With proper preparation, the whole dealio would only take a few measly hours to complete. But alas, my brain is not wired for short versions of anything—I always, conveniently, forget this very critical detail—so I end up with long versions of anything I do. But, I also end up solving a lot of world problems with all the extra think-time, so it's really a bonus and quite economical on a global scale, when, for example, you compare it to how long a UN world summit sessions last, in comparison. Too bad no one asks me for my take on that dealio. Basically, the gist of my message is, don't throw something that is old out, if you can breathe new life into it with a coat of paint. Think: a book shelf. fireplace. car. spouse.

Blinds integrate beautifully w/ my life. Or, at least my kitchen.

Soooo  . . . short version of blind painting is this: remove blinds, paint, let dry, put up again.  I sooo wish I could say the reality of it was so simple. The four step version only applies if conditions are optimal: if the weather is great, if you have ample space to lay out fresh painted slats (ribs? spokes? vanes? not really sure what to call the long dangly pieces of vertical blinds—I'm kinda partial to "ribs" today. Maybe I'm hungry) to dry, if you remember how the mechanism of the blinds operate before you reattach all the ribs (so you don't have to unattach, reattach, unattach then reattach again, as some people might have to. Not saying I personally, did this—just saying some might . . .).

Rocco: Why the hell you got to be paintin' all the time, woman?!

Each of the four steps took, on average, an hour at most. Painting wasted a year of my life took the most time, which wouldn't have been a bad deal at all, but it rained like a cow pissin' on a flat rock (a nod to my heavenly Dad, for bestowing upon me the useful gift of colorful phrases that peppers my language and life, and might have even cost a job or two!), all day and into the evening Thursday, which totally threw a wrench into the system I had envisioned. See, I was going to remove all the ribs, lay 'em out on sawhorses, tables, benches, whatever else I had on hand—outside— paint, let dry, then reinstall. But, because of the rain, I had few places to lay all the ribs, and had to work in shifts, and it didn't take long before my house became a bizarre obstacle course of eight foot horizontal spears through which I had to weave and bob, all night long, a tedious, boring process of which I'll spare details, other than via the few included photos.

So, after all that work, was it worth it? Am I in love with my new blinds? Am I happy that I wasted a half a day of my life that I'll never get back on this project? Nooooo, I'm not exactly in love with the blinds, but I also don't despise them any longer—I believe I'm now I'm in like with them, and that's not a bad thing now, is it? I also think I bought myself a few years of Blind Tolerance, till I really know what I want to do with them, if anything. And that is more than enough time wasted on this sad little project, so I'll cut it short. Now.

Banana muf. mix: mayo, flour, sugar, choc chips, walnuts...

In this entry, I was also going to include quick li'l tidbits about a fab and easy-peasy banana muffin recipe that has become my go-to recipe—because I was up till nearly 2 a.m., finishing those #%$(*$@ blinds, and got kinda hungry and the fruit flies pelting my head suddenly reminded me that, once again, I had a bunch of bananas on the counter that were now far too ripe to be fit for human consumption. . . I was also going to give y'all a recap of the outdoor concert I went to, at the Cabooze last night Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros. But since my eyelids suddenly feel like lead, I'm going to just have to tease you with a couple pics, until I and get back to you later on those hotter'n'hott topix. . . 'nite, peeps . . . xxoo

Before the contact high . . .