For two or three months my daughter and I have been working on the linen closet. Sanding the frame and doors to prepare them for painting.
Filling the routed design with wood filler to make a level surface. Sanding again. Painting the frame and the doors, something like four or five coats each. Removing the poorly-installed crossbar between the linen drop and the space that holds the bins...
Reinstalling the three lower doors.
Yesterday all was ready for me to begin the decoupage process. I folded the poster in half and sliced it apart. We shifted one half up and down the length of the door until we found an arrangement that pleased us both. We marked the placement with strips of painter’s tape bridging the doors top and bottom. I took the poster halves back to my work table and proceeded to slather the first one with Mod Podge. It went into place with little argument, after I had slathered the door with more Mod Podge. I smoothed the bubbles out with fingers, fists, forearms, and my marble rolling pin. On to the second half, which developed an attitude. Much placing, replacing, re-gluing, finessing, only to have a myriad of bubbles crop up.
At this point I was physically tired and more than a little discouraged. I was unsure if I should leave the poster up and hope for the best, or if I should peel it off and try to find another. I thought double sided tape might be a reasonable solution. I decided to seal the poster with Mod Podge. Huge bubbles popped up all over both halves of the poster, and I was almost ready to weep with frustration. I waited half an hour and brushed on another coat. When I checked later, some of the bubbles had disappeared, and others were noticeably smaller. So I put on a third coat. And then a fourth. After the two hour round trip to take my daughter home, there were only a very few, very small bubbles remaining. I gave them all a swipe and went to bed.
This morning I ran my hands over an acceptable, if not flawless, finish. I was reminded of the axiom that far too many people quit just before success would become obvious. I was also reminded that, while I am far more patient than I was as a child or young woman, I am not at the end of that learning curve.
We do think that with the knobs installed, the central figure's leg now resembles a praying mantis.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!