Cradle Refinishing

Since we've been given a few extra days of nesting, we've started in on refinishing the family cradle. I'll admit, I wasn't overly excited to start it, largely because I have such a love/hate relationship with staining. On one hand by the time it's finished 99% of the time I'm happy with it, it's just the process that gets me every time.

A little bit of history on the piece... I don't know to what degree, but my great grandpa on my dad's side was a woodworker. This particular piece has been passed down but not refinished, so I figured between all the woodworking experience I've got in over the past year and the copious amounts of stain in the garage, I was up for the task. It came to me with the previous finish sanded off which I was grateful for, however it revealed that the cradle was seemingly constructed of multiple types of wood, which made me nervous because a dark stain could absorb very differently. I finally set out yesterday morning thinking I could give it a couple of final coats of sanding to get it smooth, then precondition if necessary. I did all of the above in a matter of only an hour or so, leaving me with dreamy notions that I would have the whole thing finished by sundown. Then the stain went on. Granted my fears of blotchiness were not realized which i was grateful for, but as soon as the walnut stain was wiped off, it revealed the entire piece covered in one of the banes of my existence- tiny spirals left from a power sander. Naturally they couldn't be seen until the stain soaked into them- but they were everywhere. I weighed my options and after giving in to the fact that there was no way I was going to paint it, I realized I had one choice left- to hand sand all of the spirals out as best I could, not only starting from scratch but starting about three steps back.

I set out putting my weight behind by 50 grit sandpaper and gummed up one piece after another with the tacky stain until all eight sides were once again sanded down (all in all about six more hours of work). I've since reapplied the stain and it looks much better, although of course, I can pick out all the areas where it didn't go on as evenly as I would like. I'm now waiting on the stain to dry, and for Clint, with his own issues of perfection to countersink the exposed screws and add a wood plug to cover them. Then shellac (our finishing agent of choice, also conveniently baby safe) and depending on timing, an element or two Clint is in charge of to make it our own.

Of course all of this could be interrupted by a baby that is due- well today, but knowing us I'll have Clint putting on the finishing touches while I'm in labor (which is hopefully sooner rather than later).

Looking towards winter on an 80 degree day

This morning I am waiting patiently for... our furnace people! That's right, hopefully this time tomorrow we will have working heat. Not that (as Clint pointed out) I will allow him to turn it on until we can see our breaths in the house, but it'll make these chilly mornings a little more bearable knowing they're optional. I'm imagining some grumbling under their breaths as they realize they have to carry it down the trap door in our floor, or a few choice words when they have to shimmy on their bellies to vent it out behind, saving the wall for the tankless water heater that will someday go there- but it's a small price to pay (well, maybe not literally) to get some 93% efficiency, built in humidifier heat in this house for our impending hibernation with baby.

On how I almost sent my baby’s daddy to jail

So this isn’t really an entry on the house, unless you consider the perpetual state of disarray we are living in due to home renovations. But it is an amusing enough anecdote (now) that I thought I would share it.

About a month ago, Clint got a jury summons in the mail. I (naturally ignoring the federal prohibition on opening other people’s mail) promptly tore it open and proceeded to text him that he was in fact due for jury duty in about a month. I searched the form for a place to enter in my impending due date certain it would excuse him from his civic duty. From there it is anyone’s guess as to where it went. I think that was right around the time we began living on one floor in preparation for the floor refinishing, and things got shuffled around. Nevertheless neither I nor him (considering he had never laid eyes on it) gave it another thought.

Cut forward to this past Friday, when who knows what jarred my memory and I all the sudden realized that a. he was summonsed and b. I haven’t seen that piece of paper since it was opened. I wasn’t too concerned until I searched the fridge (where almost all important documents go) and the copious stacks of paper we tend to accumulate full of random things that need addressing or filing at one point or another. Alas, I came up with nothing. As it was Saturday afternoon at this point the best we could do was email the court asking him for the date and time he was due to report. I kept insisting that although it was early October, I was sure it wasn’t the first so I wasn’t too concerned (or I was acting not too concerned largely to keep Clint from going into a panic). At this point we were literally scrubbing the house top to bottom to rid it of any noxious dust so that we could move back in and while I was doing my 30th load of laundry I thought to check on those shelves.

Lo and behold, there it is. As I started to do my “I told you it would work out ok” dance I happened to look at the date- October 1st, 8am. In other words, first thing on Monday. Had we not found that, he would have likely had a warrant issued with consequences including 3 days of jail and/or a rather hefty fine. So not only was the date impending allowing him no time for freelance or to even give his workplace adequate notice, but any excuses for absence must have been submitted one week prior. Naturally I tucked my tail between my legs and admitted full fault. During what was already shaping up to be one of his busiest weeks (of course just 2 weeks before my due date-classic Reno (this includes both of us)) was now filled with two weeks of mandatory, inexcusable jury duty. After offering copious apologies, I reassured him that of course they would let him out when he arrived- just tell them his wife is due any minute.

Well that might be what you’d think, but again-wrong. So as we speak Clint is fulfilling his civic duty for the next two weeks, and I have a post it note in my wallet with a number to call in case I go into labor- to ask that juror #300609 be excused. Clint has luckily forgiven me and on the upside, we’ve got one great story to start out with in the baby book- how papa almost went to jail.