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Telling Tales: The adventures of the weekend warrior

Becky Andrews and Angel Kane • Updated Dec 3, 2017 at 12:00 PM

Every few years something happens that changes the trajectory of how my family will spend our downtime. Every person in this house hates when this happens. Rather, every person in this house hates me when this happens. That’s mostly because the trajectory shifting something is usually my idea. 

I have a problem. I’m a procrastinator. In fact, I’m writing this very sentence minutes before the print deadline. I equally hate and love this character flaw. Hate because it’s no fun to be doing paint touch-ups as friends begin arriving for a potluck dinner. Love because I would never, ever start, much less complete, any household project if there’s not an impending party or dinner planned. That’s precisely why I will make plans to hold a baby shower, a graduation party or class reunion, Pampered Chef party, etc. all in the name of tackling my never-ending household to-do list. This little system has worked for the most part over the years. 

Nine years ago, it was our lack of curtains that prompted me to volunteer to play host to my sister’s 40th birthday party. I managed to make three sets of drapes in time for the party. And not one person commented on the fact that one panel in each set was 6 inches shorter than the other. 

Seven years ago, during the heat of July, my oldest niece came for a weeklong visit with her husband and new baby. It made perfect sense to finish our patio before they arrived. Because who doesn’t love to sit on a shade less patio with a newborn.

Five years ago, 10 days before Easter, the fridge went out, so why not update the paint color in our kitchen? I mean if we are moving the fridge out anyway… To guarantee we would finish installing the new fridge and painting, I made the brilliant decision to hold a dinner and egg hunt for friends and family.   

The following year, a large iron wall hanging I’d bought with my first out-of-college paycheck, fell and scuffed a huge area of my bedroom wall. This called for retouching the paint, but we were out of the color, so this seemed like the perfect time to change things up. Three weeks and 29 swatches of variations of the color grey later, we decided on Riesling. It’s not gray or close to gray. In fact, it’s a shade different from our original “ripe Riesling” shade. 

Three years ago, a leak from the upstairs bathroom into the kitchen somehow mutated into the search for a new wall oven and another search for the perfect wall color for the kitchen since I never really liked the last color.

Nine months ago, I decided to start early for once and finish a few things before our oldest graduated. The graduation itself wasn’t enough to spur action by my husband and children. A graduation party says, “we’re so proud of our son, but would you look at my new club chairs? Aren’t they the best?” 

I started pulling out Christmas décor last weekend. Before I could hang the holiday wreath on the front door, my husband said, “I’m only helping with the tree this year. Please, no painting, moving, de-cluttering. It’s Christmas, for Christ’s sake.” 

And just like that, I have the perfect note to include in this year’s Christmas card.

Comments? You can email Becky Andrews at [email protected] Andrews and Angel Kane are the brains behind Telling Tales, a weekly column in The Democrat.

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