WOMAN vs. WALLPAPER

Literature's themes focus on the great dramas of life such as "man's inhumanity to man" and the triumph of "good vs. evil". Another popular theme is the idea of "man vs the mountain".

Allow me to add another oft ignored theme, though broad in scope. I speak of "Woman vs. Wallpaper".

Some twenty-five years ago I began the battle, taming dozens of wild rolls of unyielding flora and geometrical patterns. With daring precision, snoother and glue, I wielded my level and utility knife and slapped each soggy strip to my walls.

And then decades came and went, and with them went the 80's style that I had so fully embraced.

"Come into the Twenty-First Century, Mom!" my kids pled. Okay. . . I'm cool, I'm hip. I'm all up or down with it, though the very saying of such things clearly testifies that I am not. And so began the great "Wallpaper Scraping of 2008".

It has not been pretty. The walls were not properly prepped, it would appear, and my nails are worn, my back is hunched and I still have moist, sticky wall paper goo stuck between my toes. The struggle to remove the paper left the walls so pocked and damaged they now resemble the surface of the moon, a condition that will now require spackling and skimming and priming and and caulking, all before we begin to paint.

And what about selecting a paint color? Oh dear. . . I can't even go there yet!

GOT STRESS?

I'm thinking about getting a tool belt. And maybe my own hammer and some other cool tools to stick in it. Always one to avoid "tools of limited destruction", I think I may have changed my mind about such things. Now this is a cataclysmic shift in my universe, since anyone who knows me knows I'm far more likely to pound a nail with the heel of a shoe or a meat tenderizing mallet than to search for an actual, elusive hammer. (I refer you to my post of 6/18).

My friend, a mild-mannered woman who plays the organ and decorates cakes, mentioned that she was in the midst of a home project. Now mind you, previous to this occasion, I would have considered stitch-ripping the limit of her destructive bent. Not so today. I stopped by and from the street I heard pounding that rumbled from both the house and the garage. Following the thunderous hammer, I found her, hammer in one hand, long-handled chisel in the other, sabotaging her old tile floor.

She rolled her eyes and placed an apologetic hand on her head which was matted and white from the flying cement dust hanging in the air.

"Hi Laurie," she chuckled with a smile. "Come on in."

I was amazed at how much she had already accomplished. "You look like you're having fun."

"I am," she replied with a tease. "It's way fun and it's therapeutic. All my stress is gone."

"Can I try?" I asked. Moments later I too was slamming a hammer onto tiles, soon making a sport of it by attempting to crack or break something with each hammer swing. We pounded and scooped and scraped for a while, and then the job was done.

I can't adequately say how satisfying it was to see those tiles break away and to reveal another square of floor. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline produced by good physical labor. Maybe it was the pleasure of completing a task. No... I think it was simply the satisfying and totally juvenile delight of being allowed to break something. Heck, it was fun!

And there's something to be said for the cathartic release demolition provides. My friend's stresses are unbelievable, and today, she was as delighted a child.

Happiness in the demolition of a floor. . . Who'd a thunk it?

Got Stress? Hang out at Home Depot in the chisel department and volunteer to help the next family that needs a ceramic floor remodel.

I highly recommend it.

Have You Ever Used a Shoe to Hammer a Picture Hanger?

Admit it now. Surely I'm not the only one who has ever circumvented the junk . . . (excuse me) the "tool drawer", electing instead to resort to "McGyvering" my way through a task. You know, like when you use a good heavy shoe to pound a nail into the wall rather than rummaging through the drawer or the garage for the hammer? How about using a knife from the kitchen drawer as a screwdriver? Am I hitting close to home now?

Some of my adaptations are classic . . . like the time I didn't want to shower, dress, do my make-up (yes, I'm that vain), and drive to the hardware store for a proper picture hanger or nail of appropriate size. So instead, I taped five straight pins from my sewing drawer together and tapped them into the wall. My object d'art is still hanging, ladies!

My husband, alias "McGyver" around here, either chuckles or rolls his eyes at my Homespun Handi-Tactics, because he HAS all the proper tools and things and knows how to actually use them. But when he's away, and I must get the job done, I get creative and McGyver a little myself.

Take today, for example. (I am about to boast) I may have outdone myself. The story actually began yesterday, when my fancy high-fallutin wireless computer keyboard suddenly refused to spit out any further letters. I made every appropriate adjustment I knew how to do. I unplugged things, changed the batteries, rebooted, turned stuff upside down and called all my family members, but, unable to contact the Support Center, and receiving no further assistance from my loved ones, I rummaged around and found the original keyboard which had been retired because I had typed the paint off the poor keys. (I confess to being a four-finger typist who misses the correct key 50% of the time.)

Now understand that I missed a trip to Virginia Beach with my husband to stay home and write my brains out this week in order to meet a fast approaching deadline. (It's going to be fine, Kirk.)So having my keyboard go down while McGiver was out of town was just not going to deter me.

I tried painting letters on with my White-Out pen. Hmmm.... not an effective writing utensil for the available space. And then I got a flash of brilliance that set my heart aflutter. I made a text box, painted it dark gray like my keyboard, and printed large, white letters. Next, (now here's the brilliant part) I used clear nail polish to "glue" them into place!

My key board looks a little dyslexic, with the letters angled off slightly left and right of one another, but I'm back to work!!!!

Now, I must add a caution here: I have no idea what the long term affects of staring at crooked letters on a nail-polished keyboard might be. I have had other serious repercussions from some of my other McGyverings--but I assure you that I exercise caution when setting the table for guests, only setting that "special tableware" in front of family members who know how to manipulate them in their post-McGyver state.

But let us not fail to reiterate that the picture IS still hanging, and today? I can write again!!!!