Too Pooped

It is blog time and I am too pooped to pop.

Usually I do 30 to 45 minutes in the studio and then the lights go out.  I have my church tables covered with cardboard fold-out measuring boards that Kersten found while she was thrifting.  Every good crafter has their tools laid out. 

I finished the alotted time and was cleaning up with the old Filter Queen Vacuum.  I had the vacuum on with the hose on the table to switch out attachments.  In less than a blink of my eye the dry Swiffer I was using as a tac wipe was gone.  Good grief.  I unhooked the hose from the vacuum and sure enough I could just barely see the Swiffer about 8 inches in.  Why not share the grief.

Out to the garage I went with the length of the hose for Dennis to help.  Dennis is not allowed as yet to go into the basement, so the grief went out to him.  Everyone knows how steep our basement steps are and they are not by any means a full width of a step.  Dennis doing the steps with no toes on the left foot is cautionary, let alone having a cane for the new hip on the left leg.  I left the grief with Dennis.

This seemed like a great time to empty the vacuum and get a new filter in place.  Taking the base with the wheel assembly off of the main housing, I went to the south side of the garage and tipped it over.  Oh my gosh!  And what decade had I emptied this beast?  Dennis came to the house with the hose in tack waving the Swiffer.  Sweet!  I will need the next adult that visits to make sure the hose is secured tight to the Vacuum.  I had a horrible time getting the hose off and the end of the hose is just big enough round for me to have a lesser grip than may be needed, just to make sure all is well.  That vacuum now has suction like brand new.  Lesson learned.  Shut down the vacuum when the area that was cleaned off is done.  

I always share photos of the project each day with Dennis so he feels included in my days.  Dennis asked where these trunks had come from out of the potting shed.  Dennis’ memory is sometimes short.  Our neighbor Jan had asked me last year if I was interested in them.  The trunks had been in the eves of their attic when they bought the house before they had a family.  Their house is a huge square that has been added onto several times.  Their kids are now in their mid forties.

Then . . . out dribbles a story from the old cowboy.  When his parents came to Minnesota from Nebraska they couldn’t find housing.  They came here to work in the defense plant during WWII.  His mother worked on the line and his dad worked with security.  They rented the upstairs of the house that the Hansen’s owned.  Many owners of the house later, Randy and Jan bought the house.  Now that is a “Wow.”  May we perhaps have family history in the studio?  Amazing what can occur that taps into memories.

With that I will take my leave.  ♥