Painting the mud room

Painting the Mud Room

Sherwin-Williams has always understood me.  They know that if they send me a coupon for 40% discount, I will be in their store in nanoseconds.  They also know that, when we had the house built, I left two rooms unpainted (just basic ceiling white) because there had already been too many colors, texture, shape, size, pattern, etc., decisions to make and my decorator's brain was exhausted.  Those two rooms would have to be painted another time, by me.  

The coupon comes, Bruce goes out of town, and I get to work.  What a horror of a room to navigate in with ladders, paint buckets, and drippy brushes!  But I can do this!  YES!

The mud sink (aka Mutt Sink)

As I sink into the Zen of brush strokes, the clock turns back to the late 70's in Chicago, where I was studying at Northwestern University.  Northwestern was very generous to give me free tuition and a teaching stipend, but it wasn't quite enough to keep my freezer full of ice cream.  I needed a parttime something that would be fun, pay for Chicago-style pizzas, and maybe finance a SCUBA trip or two.  My 80-year old condo needed a lot of work also, like refinishing wood moldings and floors and updating bathrooms so I could sell the place after graduation.  

The guys at Home Depot became my best friends, teaching me how to hang wallpaper, lay vinyl flooring, install and/or repair sheetrock, and strip 50+ years worth of paint from the fireplace mantel.  Once I got the hang of these new skills in my own place, I started hanging wallpaper and painting for money, for neighbors and friends at first, then all around town.  I could have made a fortune if not for the demands of grad school, but I did earn enough to spend two weeks diving in Truk Lagoon, Micronesia (now renamed Chuuk Lagoon).

I got the education, the magnificent dive trip, and a set of skills I would value and use for the rest of my life.  So, now, when I get the brushes and rollers out, I can mentally return to those days and revisit all the homes I worked on, those SCUBA trips, my buddies in grad school.  But I have digressed...

Back here in Hansville, if it's not summer it's raining.  We have too many coats and hats and boots and baskets for eggs and garden pickings, and gloves and tools and junk and stuff, so Bruce built a wonderful stash place for all of it.  We found a live-edge redwood plank for a seat, with basket cubbies above and below, and lots of hooks for everything else.  It's fantastic. And also another thing to paint around.

Bruce's Tripple Tapper

In spite of being called the "Mud Room," this is really Bruce's beer hall, where he has recently upgraded his one-tap bar to a three-tapper, with three kegs below in the fridge.  Very nice, and very impressive to his brew club buddies.  

And, to keep those kegs full at all times, Bruce has really gotten into brewing his own.  Do NOT believe him when he says that my stuff takes up half the garage.  Take a look:

I have to admit this is a pretty slick contraption, on wheels so it can be rolled outside at brew time.  Don't tell him I said this, but I'm thrilled he's doing this outdoors.  When the mash starts to boil it smells exactly like vomit.  

A good local brew should be made with good local hops, which we've been growing for a while now.  This year we have a huge crop, enough to share, plenty for brewing and lots more to dehydrate and freeze.

Removing hops from the bines

For this operation, Bruce made an oast (remember that sawmill he bought?  and all that redwood?).  We ran the heater and fan for about a day and a half, to dry these out, and will be vacuum-sealing them later today.

Bruce's Very Cool Oast

What does this have to do with painting?  I can't say exactly, except everything is connected (especially in female brains), and with the kinds of traffic we're getting to and through the Mud Room these days, it's a good thing that it's now worthy of a magazine photo spread.  Bruce is proud of his triple tapper, and I'm proud of how pretty everything looks.  

Vive la difference.  💓