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Patio Redo for Less Than $250

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October is as close to heaven as you can get in my corner of Louisiana.  The blazing heat of summer has abated, the weather has cooled, and I decide I’m going to make it, after all.  We just started pulling together a project that has been in the works for a long time,redoing and enclosing our patio.  We still intend to put down a tile floor, put glass doors across the opening, and paint the ceilings ng

All the furniture you see here is an amalgamation of Goodwill, thrift shop, repurposed, and utilization of materials on hand except for a few dollars worth of supplies.  Bud is wonderful and loves a project, so all I have to do is come up with an idea he likes and we’re on it.  The big wicker rocker to the left cost $50 at Goodwill a couple of years ago with a broken rocker.  It retailed for $650, but with wood and paint Bud had on hand, he repaired and painted it.  The rocker on the left upper center was a relative’s castoff, and was spray painted for less than $2.00.  The yellow wicker on the right cost $20 in a thrift shop, paint $2.00 for cost of $22.  One sister gave me the green chair frame, and I covered it in fabric another sister gave me.  The only thing it cost was the seat cushion, and paint on hand, so it cost less than $10.

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Now the ceramic top table took $6.24 in new tile and utilized leftover tile from another project.  We had the grout and ceramic glue on hand.  Bud also had to buy the screen-door stripping for less than $10.  He did have to buy half a sheet of plywood to make the table surface.  He built the pedestal for another table more than twenty-five years ago, so this is it’s second incarnation.  He estimates total costs of table, $80 to $100 if he had had to purchase all the materials today.

The chairs at the table are from a thrift shop.  Total cost, including purchase price of chairs, paint and pine for the seats and the polyurethane finish was less than $40 a chair.  Together the table and chair set might have cost $120, but we still have paint and polyurethane left.

A dear friend built the potting stand in the corner from a decrepit screen door and salvaged materials from a barn demo and materials she had on hand.  I love it.

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The fountain came from a friend and has been on my patio more than twenty-five years.  Best of all is the view I am so grateful for, as I sit in my patio writing.  It is priceless and free, like all the best things. I am so blessed.

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Blackie and the Great Diaper Monster

My grandparents, Roscoe and Lizzie Holdaway, a few months after her stroke.  She was about 4″8″ tall.  Note the large, black purse on her left arm.

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Grandma had a stroke when she was fifty-eight.  The doctor came out to see her and said she’d never walk again.  Ignoring him, she scooted around in an old desk chair for about three months because she wasn’t about to waste money on a wheelchair she’d never use again.  After that, she put up with a cane for a few days till she was sick of it, then it was business as usual.  Ever afterwards, she was a little weak on the right side and her gait was off a little, but she didn’t let it hold her back.  She just carried her gigantic old-lady black purse on the left side to balance herself.  She crawled in every time the car started, and made every trip anyone else did, be it the hardware store, grocery store, or vacation.  Her stroke just made it a little easier for us to keep up with her.

She lived far enough away that she always stayed a couple of weeks when she visited.  Upon her arrival, she insisted on taking over the family laundry, washing, hanging out on the line, and folding.  We always had mountains of laundry with five kids, including two babies in diapers, so Mother was glad to have the help.   Always afraid the neighbors would talk about her for letting Grandma toddle back and forth with the laundry, she always sent one of us to help.  I always volunteered, since Grandma was known to hand out nickels when she was pleased.  I endeavored to make sure the other kids didn’t stumble into this gold mine.

The whole time I was growing up, we had a sequence of gentle black dogs, usually named Blackiefamily6.  I have no idea how many we may have had, but we always had one.  Numerous though they had to have been over the eighteen years I lived at home, they all merged into one in my memory.  One hot summer afternoon, as Grandma tottered back from the clothesline to the back door, the poor dog must have awakened from his nap in the shade only to see a short-legged, top-heavy voluminous load of fluffy, white diapers advancing toward him, lurching from side to side.

Terrified, he leapt up barking and lunged at the terrifying diaper monster, pushing her over backwards, the diapers landing atop her.  Mother had seen the whole thing and rushed out to rescue Grandma from the jaws of the slavering beast.  As soon as the dog heard Mother coming for him, he took off.  We were all sure Grandma was dead.  Mother tore at the pile of diapers only to find Grandma laughing so hard she couldn’t get up.  She had to get her laughing fit over before we could pull her to her feet.  She was totally unhurt, except for the indignity of wet pants.  I can’t speak to the poor dog’s shocked condition.

Camping

   image Dirty Dog

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We just got back from camping on the Gulf Coast.  We had fun and I learned a couple of things. First of all, if you think you might fall and bust your fanny, carry your extra glasses.  I was standing behind the trailer trying to wave Bud in as he backed the trailer up and Buzzy wrapped me in his leash, plopping me flat on my keester. I fell flat, banging right on my glasses.   I hadn’t gotten in Bud’s line of vision yet, so he thought I’d wandered off, as I am prone to do.  He continued backing up, but fortunately I was able to get out of the way before he flattened me.

Although the fall did kill my glasses, I escaped.  I was worried whether I would have a black eye, but luckily I didn’t.  If I had, I would have to have blacked both Bud’s eyes or I would have been ashamed to be seen when we met friends later.  I was able to get the frames replaced, using the same lenses.  What a relief.  I had dreaded trying to get by with just reading glasses till I could get new ones made.  I will never go off without a spare again.

Buzzy had a fine time camping as always.  We patrolled the camp several times a day.  He got to meet new dogs, see an alligator, smell the Gulf, roll in some different flavors of mud, walk on the beach, and sleep in the camper.  His favorite part of camping is sitting on the bench seat between us at meals.  He doesn’t get a place at the table at home.

Joke

A hiker falling off a cliff a grabbed a tree on his way down but was unable to climb back up.  He dangled hundreds of feet above the canyon floor below.  As the tree roots started to pull away from the wall of the cliff, he screamed.  “Help! Is there anyone up there?  Somebody help me, please!”

A loud voice boomed, ” Do not be afraid! Turn loose my son, I will save you!”

Timidly, the hiker asked, “Who is that?”

“It’s the Lord!”

“Help! Help!  Is anyone else up there?”

Tossin’ in the Coffin

tombstoneWhen I was a kid, I was fortunate enough to get to go to the funeral of my Uncle Ben. I had very little interest in and had wasted no affection on him, but did appreciate getting the honor of being a “member of the family” at the funeral.

I was knowledgeable now about the ways of the world and looked forward to the ride to the graveside service. At the time, it was the custom for the mourners to follow the hearse holding the guest of honor in a very, very slow procession from the church to the gravesite. As we proceeded, oncoming traffic pulled over as a gesture of respect to the deceased. I tried to put on a tragic face as I proudly looked out the windows at all those unfortunate enough not to be in mourning.

Green carpeting draped the mounds of dirt surrounding the grave. A few chairs were reserved for chief mourners. As we all gathered respectfully around the coffin, Brother Bond read a few bible verses, and spoke glowingly of the deceased. It was clear, he didn’t know Uncle Ben like we did, but nobody corrected him. At the close of the brief service, my six uncles serving as pall-bearers prepared the coffin for its descent into the grave, never suspecting the gravediggers had overestimated the size of the grave needed and draped carpeting over their miscalculation. As they somberly approached the coffin, three of the six pall-bearers stepped on the carpet-draped hole and tumbled into the grave along with the open coffin. Uncle Ben joined them as they rolled around in the red clay at the bottom of the grave, but only the pall-bearers clambered out. I was fascinated to learn that bodies are buried with their suits split up the back. All in all it was great afternoon. I’ve always thought more warmly of Uncle Ben since then.

Precious Moments

Some moments in life are so special, you’ll never capture them again. I was fortunate enough to share one of these with my mother and her tiny great-grandson a few years back. On her first visit with him, she savored every precious moment as we strolled in the park. They were a sweet pair mirrored in the fountain, spring and fall. He giggled as he dabbled his tiny toes, rippling the cool water. She shared his joy, till she spotted the used condoms floating on its surface! I thought he’d get whiplash as she snatched him back!