Painting Park Benches

I just came inside from the patio area of my apartment building. The air was cool, but not chilly; the breeze was gentle and refreshing; my task was satisfying and soothing.
It was time well spent.

A few weeks ago I offered to help one of the men in the building repaint the benches out back. A few days ago he told me he didn't think he was up to the job anymore, and he offered the job and materials to me.
I took him up on his offer.

Two days ago, I ran my wire brush over both benches to remove the old, cracked paint. I turned the benches face down on the patio and put the first coat on the bottom side of the slats.

Today I applied a second coat to the bottom and a first coat to the top of the benches. In another day or so, I'll put a second coat on the top, work on the slat edges and think about painting the metal supports. I'll probably get the phone number of the man from housing and see if he can get me some replacement screws for the ones that are missing.

I enjoy building, painting and repairing things around the house.
I learned that from my dad.

I learned there is great satisfaction from a job well done.

I learned that a large part of performing a job successfully lies in the prep work.

Pick the when and where.
Dress properly for the occasion.
Organize your equipment.
Prepare to enjoy the experience; and you will.

I volunteered to help paint, but I was glad when the job became all mine.

I like opening a paint can for the first time since the paint was mixed at the store. I take out my Craftsman screwdriver and make my way carefully around the rim, gently prying until it opens. Like Dad, I hate mangled paint lids when there's no reason for them to be that way.

I take the fresh brush out of its packaging and clean the top of the lid for my first stroke. I dip the brush no more than a half inch or so into the can, dab and stroke the paint along its way.

Dip and stroke. The brush glides down the wood and the paint fills the crevices. Dip and pull. It's important to load the brush properly, not too much so that the the paint runs and drips away from where you want it.

Cutting is important when you paint; I'm good at it and rarely need tape to avoid the areas I don't want to coat.

There's something so rewarding and comforting about transforming things with paint. Although some woods should stay natural under varnish, stain or oil, others cry out for protection from the elements. Some nearly sigh with relief when they have been rescued from untimely decay.

I finished what I set out to do for the day.

I made sure my "Wet Paint" sign was still in place, put my stool and tools in my cart, set the lid on the can and carried the wet brush in hand back to my apartment. I sealed the brush in plastic wrap, tapped the lid back on the can with my hammer and left the stool in the cart by the door until I make my next trip outside.
Dad also taught me that cleaning up is just as important as the prep work.

I worked in solitude, and I like it that way.
I can smell the freshly mowed grass. I can hear the sounds of people passing by. I can listen to the birds and trees. I can think about anything or nothing at all save the task at hand.

Sometimes it's good to step out of the chaos and noise of everyday life and listen to the sound of your own heart.

Sometimes it's good to walk away from everyday duties and do something that may not be of any benefit to you beyond the simple pleasure of just doing it.

Sometimes it's good to meld pleasant memories of the past with the ones you create each day.

Today was a good day for brown bagging with the Breakfast Club, napping in the afternoon, and painting before dusk.

Today was a good day for making new memories.