Meanwhile, Back At The Finishing Table

Good day at work today. All of it.

First off, it was my intention to get in to work at 6:30. That didn't happen (got there at 6:50). But leaving the house at first light was amazing; the sky was a wonderful pre-dawn indigo and silver. It was beautiful.

Started of scuffing, then ended up doing staining. Lots of staining. I love staining. I've joked that there's paint in my veins rather than blood. My grandfather was a housepainter (we were born 60 years apart; he, also, was a thrower of whips), and my father supported himself doing painting over the years. Even though staining is not delicate work (you apply with a rag and wipe off with a rag for the most part), when a brush is necessary, I have such a great touch with the brush, effortlessly cutting in at the corners and edges. And I like the stain I was using, too. Called something like 'butternut.' I like it because you can futz with it, blending it smoothly by rubbing hard, bringing up a luster, making it beautiful. Today's masterpiece was a huge cabinet, probably to enclose an oven. There was one enormous panel, about 32" by 8'. I made that maple look gorgeous.

And here's a great thing. I found myself thinking how perfectly my sister would fit right in at my job. That, perhaps, explains in part why I feel so close to her at work. She was good at stuff like that, too. And her humor made the day fly by. And she had an enormous heart, and deep empathy for the young and lost among us. (Overheard a teenage co-worker describing how his mother had discovered a lump in her breast; she's been sick a lot this year, and hasn't been able to work; the other day, she asked to buy a dime bag off her teenage son, my co-worker; he declined, saying that if he had some he'd smoke it with her, but he wasn't going to sell her a dime bag because he knows that she doesn't have money and he doesn't think she's good for it. Speaks volumes, no?) I can picture her there in the finishing room, perhaps doing the fine, detailed pinstriping with the glaze, loved by all.

For the millionth time since she died, I'm missing her tonight.

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