April 17, 2013

  • Dogless Gourding

    What's wrong with this picture?

    Well, other than the mis-shapen swirls, the erratic hole patterns, the fact that the dark color is done with a craft pen rather than a woodburner, the bad gourd cutting...it's a prototype. What's wrong with the picture? Some over-zealous gourd designer drilled 457 holes in a medium-sized gourd BEFORE she painted the inside.

    I did an experiment this morning. (Because I did that same 101A Gourd-stupid thing twice:) I painted the inside of the second gourd, which has much, much smaller holes. (I should be able to tell you how much smaller, given than I own the drill bits that drilled them, but...they haven't been in a box that measures their size in probably 7 years. But if you had such a box: I would say two or even three drill bits to the right.)

    Note leakage of black paint through holes. 

    To give you a sense of proportion:

    The window seems particularly cloudy because last fall we covered it with plastic to keep out the cold and, living in Michigan, we are waiting for August to take it down because spring either come to Michigan in February or October.

    The washtub just ran over. We (Nancy) bought this beautiful house in +/- 2000. We accidentally touched the stovetop, thereby leaving the prints of our fingers, and we were scolded for our bad behavior by the owner--this was just the first look-through. We assumed from this, this woman has a low tolerance for things that go wrong. And perhaps she did. The house was built in 1954. About...roughly, two years ago...the washing started coming out of the laundry tub really, really WET. I assumed the spin-dry was tired, but no--the water was refusing to leave the exterior tub, so when the machine spun out all of the water for some reason it immediatley begins to suck it back up. This became much clearer as the slow drain slowed even more and the washtub ran over, soaking the laundry room, the back hall, and pouring loudly like rain into the basement. So we moved our diagnosis from dying washer to badly-engineered  plumbing system. It is 'air-starved'. This is caused by two problems: the design is poor, and the pipes are lead (or metal or they collect a lot of 'stuff' inside, narrowing the aisleway through which the water moves. This moves our diagnosis from clogged pipes to 'replumb the entire house.' Which is harder--and more expensive--that plumbing a brand new house. Recently we called a plumber to come help us. He bored out the pipes.

    Worked for about 2 1/2 weeks.

    This is the kind of gourdwork I like to do. I'm a little rusty--I haven't turned on the burner for a year and a half.  The daisy (which is really some sort of wild sunflower) I stole from a photograph I took last fall. The center will eventually be brown (the yellow dye is still damp.)

    There are ways around lack of talent, but they are slow and cumbersome. The one I have struggled hardest to achieve is the one my brother quotes all the time: "it is what it is."

    My goal, when I revved up my Dremel this time, was the create gourds with cutouts and contours and gouges missing.

    I can do 'gouges missing'.

    Right now I don't seem to be able to drill holes exactly where I want them, which makes me hesitate to dig out my gouging tools...

    I can hear water running down the drain. These are not normal house sounds, I understand. We have come to appreciate them for the slow-moving music that they are.

    Okay. I know Control Z. If I didn't, you would have lost this post three times today. Now. Position your hands on your keyboard (assuming you still have a keyboard.) My right hand, which rests on the desk and pokes keys on the board, repeatedly (and accidentally) hits something on the lower right side of the keyboard that wipes out my entire blog entry. Anybody have a CLUE which key that is? 

    I am dogless today. Nancy takes the dogs to work because I have been inspired, recently, to work on my gourds. (The dogs--particularly the busy little black dog--are distractions.) Just last night, after she came home from work with Nancy, Annie saved us from 7 home invasions, four viscious dogs, a stray cat, six people on bicycles and a passing hurricane. However, since she's not here, I have my gourding stuff sprawled all over the Conservatory.

    But now it's lunchtime.