Monday, October 09, 2006
word to the mommas
We painted. And painted. All day Saturday (with a crew of 20 or so), most of Sunday afternoon (just a handful of us), and this morning (just 4 of us). We're still not finished. But boy have we had FUN! The building is looking FINE! My camera batteries croaked before I had a chance to take any "after" pics, so those will have to come later. You'll have to trust me, though. It is lookin' GOOOOOOOOD!
And word to the Mommas! Let me tell you what I learned yesterday.
I was sitting on the second level of some scaffolding, painting the lower windows. Kristi was standing on a ladder up on the third level of said scaffolding, painting the 2nd story windows. She asked me to move very carefully, or to warn her, because her ladder went to shaking like Candlestick during the Loma Prieta everytime I moved. So. Instead of getting up off my hind-quarters to move down to the other end of the scaffolding, I decided to schooch across instead. I was being ever so careful. All of a sudden, "YOWWWWWWWIE!" I scooched a whole gaggle of splinters up into my pantiloons. Mercy. That was hurty.
Kristi's 14-year-old son was on the scaffolding with me. I stood up and tried to nonchalantly pull the splinters from my butt. No can do.
"Andrew," I said. "I'm sorry to inform you that I'm about to put my hand down my pants 'cause I just splintered up my bohiney. You might wanna turn around." He did. I stood there, 8 feet up on scaffolding, on the service road of one of the busiest highways in North Texas, and tried to pick splinters out of my backside. I got one. There were more. They were starting to sting. I was in agony.
So I climbed down and demanded of Darren, "Come with me. I need your help."
In the bathroom, I dropped my drawers and stuck my rear out. The splinters were not on my backside. They were on my underside. Imagine with me, if you will. You're sitting on a piece of weathered lumber. Your feet are out in front of you. You scooch along on your butt. What part of your butt, exactly, is making contact with the lumber? Yah. That part. Very private.
"You'll have to bend over more," Darren said. I complied.
"More," he ordered. I complied again.
As I bent, my body did this really weird bellows kind of thing, and all of a sudden, air went whooshing through my intestines and out my blowhole. Right into Darren's face. He yelped and jumped back, disgusted. I laughed, of course. It was an accident, I swear. But it was funnnnnneeeeee.
Brave Darren didn't leave me hanging, though. He braved the elements one more time and plunked a splinter the size of a sapling out of my undercarriage. Yowwwwwieeeeee!
So, word to the mommas. Do not EVER scooch across scaffolding. No. Instead, take however many leaden steps you must, even if it means knocking your best bud off her ladder. Just do it.
Thank goodness Darren was there, though, fo' real, y'all. Otherwise, sweet little Andrew would've been scarred. fo'. LIFE.
Sorry. No pictures. :)