Dad and I got to work out in the barn pretty early today. We had several projects. The first was to rout a juice catching gully around the edge of mom's favorite cutting board for her so that when she throws the huge slabs of beef on there to cut them the floor doesn't get covered in blood. Next was to install a misting system for the two cockatoos that are living with us. One is ours, and the other is her boyfriend. Hand raised babies sell for around $1600 each, so we're hoping they get busy. In the process of putting in the plumbing for the mister, I cleared a space beside the section of barn where the birds live. I pulled out all the 'stuff' (I'm not allowed to call it junk), took the scythe and manually mowed the weeds (I'd forgotten how much fun that is). Dragged a palate over from under the pool deck, and moved the five 90 pound bags of cement from the bird area to the sheltered outside. A misting system and bags of cement = not so good. In the process of moving the cement, I came across two big old spider egg sacks, complete with mommy spider. Mommy spider was jet black, with a huge round abdomen (as big as a marble) and the underside had a bright red hour glass on it. Ayup, it was a black widow.
Now, most of you probably don't know that I've been bitten by a black widow before. Twice actually. That's why I'm allergic to most insect bites and bee stings now. There's a heck of alot of venom in my system. Wheeefun! I got bit the first time when I was 14 or 15. It was the first week of summer. I got bit on my second toe on my right foot. My foot swelled to the heel, and the toe swelled up bigger than my big toe and got HUGE, ugly, black blisters on it that just kept sloughing off. It was gross. And I was just walking around barefoot in the back yard. The second bite happened the LAST week of that summer. Same toe. Same foot. Same blisters. But this time I swelled half way up my calf and couldn't walk for a week. Fun fun fun. Not.
Needless to say, I decided that the lady and her babies to be were unwelcome guests and disposed of them as quickly as I could.
Once the misting system was done, we went to work sanding down a huge door. Dad is directing a show at the Riverfront in September (more on that in a later post) and this big old glass door will be used on the set. But it's a theater door, and it had several coats of paint on it. Dad had stripped most of it, but it still needed to be sanded down and stained. Belt sanders are fun. Except when you accidentally sand part of your hand. I didn't lose much skin, though. But damn, sawdust goes EVERYWHERE. Mostly in my face.
Then we had to cut down the plexiglass that would be taking the place of the fuckass heavy safety glass in the door. If I thought sawdust was bad, plexidust was worse. And bigger. By the time we were done with the cutting, the thermometer was close enough to 100 to blow kisses at it. And so operations moved inside to detail the plexi before putting it in the door.
Have you ever gotten into the shower, looked down, and the water running towards the drain was brown? That was today. So much filth was hosed off my body I'm surprised I didn't clog the septic tank. But now I'm clean, and we accomplished much. And it felt good. Damn good.