Friday, July 17, 2015

A Day In The Life - Painting The Barn

The barn in the backyard of my inherited house is about a thousand years old.  Okay, maybe only 100.  Actually, it's 100 plus years old, but no one who knows the true age is still alive (Rabbit trail:  Write stuff down; in a scrapbook, calendar, journal, something, anything, so it can be found a hundred years from now.  That stuff's fascinating.  And helpful.  So you know how old your barn is.).

It's been painted once.  Back a hundred years ago it was painted red with a blue door.  No, I don't get the blue door either.  Regardless, by the time I got in the family in 1989, all the paint had faded into wherever paint fades too.  There was only a teeny bit of color left.

From that teeny bit of color that remained, we decided to repaint it the same color.  This we decided in 2003.

Yes, I know it's 2015.  Math is not my strong suit, but even I can figure out there's a few years in there.

In 2014 we got serious about the whole barn painting thing.  This was because it was finally at a point where it wasn't falling down.

Believe it or not, this is actually an improvement.
The whole side was taken down and put up correctly.
When we first got the barn, the west side corner was falling fast to the ground.  The whole thing was sinking.  The west side got shored up (which means a false wall was kicked in there) and then left in about 2005.  Finally we ("we" meaning a concrete knowledgeable friend) came through and cemented a majority of the support posts so they didn't fade away like the paint.  In 2006 a majority of the roof was redone (traded a van and a thousand bucks for that one).  Finally, in 2013 all the sides were systematically ripped off and put back on.

Most of the boards were original.  The guys who did it were awesome about reusing every scrap of the original lumber they could get their hands on.  But we tossed in a few extra doors.  Few.  Umm, like nine.  That's a few right?  Maybe several.  Some of the doors couldn't be original.  Like the one sized so an RV can fit through.  Seriously, those doors are, like fourteen feet tall.  We didn't have boards that were fourteen feet tall.  So we improvised.


Only now the doors don't match the rest of the barn.

Which brings us (the really long way) back to painting the barn.

In 2014 The Guy I Let Live With Me got on craigslist (this is already not going to end well) and found a guy who would mix paint.  Sherwin Williams, five gallons, thirty bucks.  Since we were going to need at least 30 gallons, plus another 30 gallons of primer, this sounded like a fantastic idea.  All we needed was a chip of the paint color, the code on said chip and email the guy two hours away.

Boom.  We'd be saving ourselves a hundred bucks a five gallon bucket.

We chose a color, emailed the code, got some cash, drove two hours, and put twelve five gallon buckets in the back of the Highlander.

I should have looked closer at the color one of the paint buckets left on the back of my leather seat.

A week ago I got out the paint brush and broke open the bucket that had been sitting for a year.  It was pale pink.  Since it had been sitting, I mixed the hell out of it.  Ten minutes later, it was still pink.  Maybe it dries darker.  I spent two hours with a brush and got five boards painted.  Pink.

"It's the primer; it's supposed to be lighter," said my husband.

The next day I broke out the Wagner paint sprayer and hit the whole side.  I can't believe the neighbors weren't calling to bitch "what in the Sam Hell are you guys doing?".  I had my excuse at the ready: It's the primer.

By this time I am itching to break into the true paint.  The Guy I Let Live With Me mixed the paint for ten minutes.  It was darker.  A darker pink.  I dipped the brush in.  I slathered it on.  It was now hot pink.  Maybe it will dry darker.

Nope.  Still pink.

In the center is the swipe of color
from "craigslist guy".  Pepto Bismo Pink!
Phone calls were made.  Short story long, Anthony at the local Sherwin Williams re-tinted it for us - FOR FREE.  Sshhhh, if you know Anthony and he wasn't supposed to do that for us.  He did the best he could with what he had and we left with high hopes (and lots of comments about our original pink paint color making a wonderful barn color - ha).

I spent three hours spraying on our new color.

With mixed results.  I'm not sure I'm married to it.  It almost looks mauve in certain light.  In other light, it looks like soft rust.  At this point we are at a standstill.  Right now I have only painted a side of the barn, maximum height at eight feet.  I'm not sure what will happen when we go up to the front with the whole face of thirty feet and I'm a little scared.  The original craigslist guy says bring it back and he will remix it.  It's a long drive and I'm ready to paint NOW.

I've done the only thing I know.  Ask the Sully Teenager her advice.  After all, this place will probably someday be hers (unless we sell it to finance a beachfront cabana in Rarotonga) and she should have some say.  So we will ask the advise of The Teenager and the in-laws.  And the neighbors.  Because, really, at this point, I just want to paint the damn thing.

As it stands now, until there is a vote.
Mauve or not.

But right now it's on the neighbor's side and I can't see it.  Maybe when it's full force in my wine drinking deck view, I'll have a different opinion.

Or I could just drink more wine.

Stay tuned.  Together, we'll see how this ends.

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