Let me introduce you to Rose

I've been awake since 3:30 this morning.  Why?  Beats me.  After flopping and turning, I finally turned on the light and reached for the nearest reading material on my bedside table. I picked up a quilt magazine, McCall's Needlework and Crafts, Antique Quilts, 1974.

I belong to two quilt guilds—Quilt in the Grove and Loose Threads.  Sometimes members force themselves to clean out old quilt magazines since they seem to breed in the shelves and overflow. I got this magazine at one of those meetings, but I can't remember which.

When I opened the magazine, many sheets of yellowed paper fell out.  There was a quilt inventory from Rose Rumaneck of Fayetteville, Texas.  These were either quilts she had made or owned, and each were described and priced.

The more I looked, the more I became interested, not in the quilt patterns, though they were beautifully documented, but in Rose, herself.

She must have lived in Texas because all the articles were from magazines in the area and from the Houston Post newspaper.  I did some searching and found a Rose Rumaneck who lived in Williamson, Texas in 1920 according to the U.S. Census for that year. She was born in 1902.  That makes explains why Rose's handwriting does not look like that of a young person in 1975.  She would have been 73 at the time she collected these clippings.

She was definitely a quilter. She clipped patterns that could be used for appliqué, articles on quilting and coupons at department stores.   But she had other interests too.  She had saved an article about local opera.

There was also a recipe that she had prorated for a large batch, of I don't know what, and priced it down to the cost of the electricity.  She could sell a box of something with two dozen for $4.80.  Wonder what it was?

I also, knew I liked Rose when she had saved an announcement about a new horse vaccine being used in the area.  USDA was recommending that horse owners vaccinate for Venezuelan Encephalitis (VEE).  Maybe she had horses herself or had children who owned horses.

Well, now I'm awake for the day.  I'm glad I met Rose. I'm sure I would have liked her.  If any of my quilter friends know or knew Rose, let me know.  What an honor it would be for someone to find one of my quilt books 40 years from now. I am afraid to think what might fall out!

No pain, no gain

Remember when you could look at an averaged-size bathroom and think, "I could paint that in a couple of hours?"  Ever since we have lived in this house for the past 18 years, I have asked Howard to build me some shelves over the toilet for storage.  We needed more storage.

Since he retired, he is trying to go through his list of "honey dos" and thought he'd knock this one out in a hurry.

He cut boards and support pieces. I looked at that wall and thought, "It would be a shame to put those shelves up when it really needs painting in here.  And it would be a lot harder if the shelves were up and I had to paint around them."

Notice I said I.  He builds, and I paint. When we moved out here, he built or had built, a barn for me because we still had horses. He found a deal on tin, painted different colors, blue, tan, red. It was my job to paint it.  And 18 years ago I painted a horse barn.  Those days are over.

I had a lovely robin's egg blue left over from the living room project, so I thought I'd paint the alcove around the tub in that color. I chose a nice Tea Biscuit color for the rest of the room.

So last Saturday the project began.  I took everything out of the bathroom and noticed how dirty the fan, light fixture in the ceiling looked.  That appliance is affectionately known as a "fart fan" by my middle child.  Where did I go wrong?

So we took it down, and YUCK.  I cleaned and bleached. The cover had yellowed so it had to be spray painted.  We are an hour into the project and no paint has hit the wall.

I start cutting in around the ceiling, and yes, I know I told my friend Terry, my doctor, and my children I wouldn't paint anymore.  Guess that makes sense considering I have chronic joint pain and just finished a round of physical therapy.  Can't let a little thing like that stop you.

Climbing up on the stool, I noticed paint on the floor.  I couldn't believe that I hadn't started painting and there were already splotches on the floor leading from the bathroom into the bedroom.  I check my shoes, yelled at Howard.  Then it hit me.  The Silkies (the silky terrorists).  I checked one, and no paint on the paws.  I checked the other, and yes she had stepped in the paint and pranced all over the bedroom with her miniature hairy Chewbacca-looking paws.

I had to clean her up and then scrub all the paw prints off the floor before you-know-who saw them.  Hour, two, no paint on the wall.

Finally about three hours later, I had one coat on the entire bathroom and two coats on the area where the shelves were going.  Then I had to go outside and paint shelves.

I was getting really tired by this time. I climbed back on my stool inside the bathtub and stood with one foot on each side of the tub to do the cutting in with the Amelia blue.  When I stepped back on the stool, I slipped and fell inside the bathtub.  I quit.   Project to be continued after sleep.

The next day I finished the second coat on all surfaces and touched up all places that were pointed out to me that I had skipped.  (errrrr)

We hung the shelves and stepped back.

Look how beautiful my sister-in-law's (Robbie Boyd) Tuscan painting looks against the blue.  And the shelves look good too, I guess.

Still there is touching up to do around the ceiling with an art brush where I got blue on the ceiling.
Pretty good job on a 12-hour project that should have taken two.  Was it worth it?

Just look at that painting!

PS:  My Mac is in the hospital and I'm using Olivia's laptop, thus can't download pics from my good camera.  Excuse the iPhone photos. They just don't do the colors justice.  Hoping for a speedy recovery for her (the computer).