Glue

Well, hell, there’s one thing and one thing only that I’ve really learned so far on this project, and it’s that I’m a real big fucking idiot.

Since my first day of really spending time on it I’ve managed to find a few half-hours here and there after work to clean wood, scrape glue, etc., so today I was ready and pretty psyched just to glue the pieces of the back of the first chair together. Here they are, all ready to go:

I got out my Titebond glue and squirted some into a little plastic dish. Opened up the packet of small brushes I’d bought for brushing the glue on. I was nervous about how fast it would dry and decided to do all the grooves of the bottom piece, and then the bottom tab of each slat — stick all those together and then do the top, and hope it would fit easily and snugly, each and every slat neatly into the proper groove.

I have to admit that I felt pretty good applying the glue. So easy. Smooth. Just nice. Visions of everything fitting right, becoming solid right before my eyes. I put all the glue-coated slats into the glue-coated grooves of the bottom piece. Nice. But on taking my next breath, I felt this foreboding tremor as I inhaled. The top wasn’t going to go on right, I just knew it. And the glue. The glue was going to start drying so fast! How to get that right?

And suddenly there were all these dumb things in my head, because earlier this week I had the stupid, stupid, stupid idea of inviting Ex to a thing. Because I had an extra ticket, and it was for something I knew he’d like, something we’d once upon a time have surely done together, and why can’t we be friends now? I started to invite him, in an email, to type the words, “this might sound crazy, but do you want to come with me…?”

And then I thought, Jesus Christ, Manning, why would you ever set yourself up like that? And I deleted that shit, and went on with my day.

But because I’m a stupid fucking idiot, later that day when I was emailing him about some logistical parenting thing, my fingers typed a post script explaining what I’d almost done. Like some lame ass olive branch or what? What was I even thinking?

He responded to the logistics, and not the P.S.

Which was fine. Cool. Understood. Better, really, than anything he could have said, right?

The end. Phew!

But then he sent “response part 2.” And asked me why I would ever think he’d ever ever ever want to be my friend again, when I could turn on him at any second, when I had / when I could / when I would surely —–

——–so much history, so much history that each of us have formed into our own loosely-based-on-reality narratives to help us make sense of it all.

Shit, the glue!

Have I mentioned that we were married for 20 years?

Technically 22.

Glue.

I don’t think I can trust it.

Or hell, can’t trust myself to use it properly.

I tried fitting the top piece of the chair back on top of the slats. One or two would go partway in, but getting all five in at once wasn’t happening, and I started to panic that the glue was drying, and that I was failing before I’d really even begun.

A.

A.

That guy, new guy.

God, I love him.

I was cursing myself for ever starting anything when I’m no good at anything but beginnings. When I never quite know what the fuck I’m doing. When I get all giddy excited and my heart goes all cuckoo and I just leap——

The pieces wouldn’t fit. The glue was drying.

I stopped struggling with the slats for half a second, paused and just looked at the damn thing to assess it. And then my eyes opened wide, jaw dropped—

I. Did. Not!

Did I?

Had I?

I had. I’d stuck two of the goddamn slats in the wrong way, with the front — the bit that’s supposed to go against the sitter’s back — facing out. Which put them about 1/8″ off the other slats, because the tab-thingies that fit in the grooves are offset that much. Fucktard!

But calm down, I told myself, just pull them out and stick them back in the right way. 

Only guess what, you guys? Titebond III is no fucking joke. Those slats were bonding to the base. Shit. Shit shit shit. I sat on the deck and put my feet on the bottom piece and grabbed one of the wrong-way slats with two hands and pulled with all my might.

One slat came out without too much of a struggle, but the second was more stubborn. I was pissed at myself and also at the universe. Vowing to myself as if it were some kind of righteous vengeance — I’m going to finish this goddamn project even if the chairs end up looking like boxy old Frankenstein’s monsters.

Flump! Finally the second piece came out, and I flumped backward onto the deck, whacked my elbow on it. Jesus. I wasn’t sure if the glue was still tacky enough to get a good hold, but I took a chance and rammed the two pieces back in – the right way this time.

Come on, come on, come on, I said to the top piece, willing it to fit nicely now. I did manage to get all five slats into their grooves — but not supremely well, not snugly. Fuck all.

I got my mallet out. Went a little cuckoo, maybe, trying to whack everything tightly together. Thinking don’t split the fucking wood but still banging away.

Of course it wasn’t going to fit together just right — wham!

Of COURSE IT WASN’T — wham!

Who the fuck did I think I was — wham!

Bob Fuckin’ Villa or something? — wham!

Yeah, I’m a real mess, you guys. It’s the goddamn hormones maybe (but that’s another story), and/or the ghost of Joe (another ‘nother story). Ex and/or A and/or whatever crazy, striving, hungry mess of unrequited whatever that’s in my blood.

But every day’s a new day, right? A new day and ultimately good. And check it out: as imperfect as it is, I got me the back of Chair #1, re-glued and clamped and setting up. It may not be much, but it’s something.

Getting Started (first post)

(But first, you might want to read what this blog is about.)

I woke up determined. A whole long Saturday without the kids and with no plans until evening. I was going to kick ass on the chairs — get them all solid today and then refinish them next weekend – and then reward myself with 1) a hot shower; and 2) Chris Cornell at the Paramount with my bitchin’ baby sister.

The chair plan for today was:

1.  Home Depot run for glue and stuff
2.  Disassemble all four chairs
3.  Meticulously clean and re-glue all the joints
4.  Reassemble all four chairs

The anticipation of how satisfying this would be made my morning coffee pretty damn perfect. I sat drinking it on the deck, sitting of course in one of the chairs I was about to fix, a premature feeling of self-satisfaction warming my belly. I re-scanned the Bob Flexner article and made a Home Depot shopping list.

Ah, lists. I love making lists. I especially love making lists while sitting on my deck drinking coffee in the morning sun, which feels a lot, I think, like strolling through the poppy field in Oz. It was 10 a.m. before I knew it — clue #1 that I might not get as far along on this project today as I hoped. I took one last sip of coffee and headed out the door.

Home Depot
I hate shopping, you guys. Hate it. 

With these exceptions:

• I love bookstores.
• I like walking around at Farmers Markets — people watching and sampling as many peaches, plums and tomatoes as I can without coming across as a rude, glutinous bastard.
• If I have a brilliant idea about a perfect gift for someone I love, I like hunting it down and buying it and giving it.
• I don’t mind the grocery store when I know exactly what I’m there for, which is usually milk, beer, avocados, some sort of delicious medium-fancy cheese, and stuff for making sandwiches for the kids’ lunches. (Yeah. Never did figure out that whole “cooking balanced meals” thing.)

I told you I like making lists.

But anyway. Home Depot! Alone! With a list of stuff I really needed to do a real project! THAT was awesome. Here’s what I got:

For today:

• Masking tape (for labeling parts)
• A mallet (plastic with shot fill, per Flexner’s recommendation) for banging stubborn pieces apart
• Denatured alcohol (for loosening up old glue)
• A little rasp and file set (for scraping glue off)
• Small paint brushes (for applying glue)
• Glue – Titebond III

For later:

• Thompson’s Water Seal 3 in 1 Wood Cleaner (cleaner/brightener)
• A pump sprayer for spraying the wood cleaner
• A medium sized scrubby brush (for scrubbing the wood) and a tiny one (for those hard-to-reach in-between bits)
• A little Black & Decker orbit sander, and sandpaper discs for it
• Behr Premium Plus Multi-Surface Primer & Sealer
• Brushes for applying the primer

Oh, and — on impulse at checkout (and totally out of character) — an orange-flavored Red Bull.

I didn’t buy paint yet, but looking at colors made me feel really happy, and I picked up a few brochures and paint chips so I can think about color as I go.

One thing they don’t sell at Home Depot (and totally should!) is beer. So on the way home I stopped at Mi Pueblo and got a case of Tecate. And a few limes. And some fresh guacamole, and salsa, and spicy pickled carrots, and store-made tortilla chips. Because that stuff all seemed necessary if I was really going to get any work done today.

It was almost 1 p.m. when I got home. Later than I’d planned to get started, but I had tools and solvent and glue — and beer with lime and guac with huge chunks of avocado.

So far?

Best. Project. Ever.

I sat down in front of one of the chairs with my notebook and pen, psyched and a little bit smug about my plan to carefully diagram the chairs and label all the parts so I wouldn’t be dumbfounded when it was time to put them back together.

But shoot. I started to sketch with the simple intent of ensuring that each piece of wood was clearly represented on paper, and what an odd and disconcerting thing: for ten tangled minutes the chair resisted, or my eye kept seeing it differently. Like when you’re looking at an Escher drawing and you’re sure the steps go up but then suddenly they are most certainly going down. For at least two of those minutes I felt like Winnie the Pooh when he’s dreaming of Heffalumps and Woozles.

It was crazy. But eventually I started seeing straight, and in the end it was this simple:

Next I labeled each part of the chair to correspond to the notes in the diagram, black Sharpie on masking tape. At least that was easy. But when I was halfway through the labeling I noticed the slant of the sun and realized I wasn’t going to do four chairs today.

No problem, though. I’d just do one chair today, work out the kinks and do the rest next weekend. Today I’d label, disassemble, clean joints, re-glue, and reassemble just Chair #1.

With everything labeled, it was time to take that bastard apart. The top board of the back of the chair was already popping of the slats, so I didn’t expect any difficulties. But I was nervous anyway, because despite my diagram and my labels, despite knowing that these chairs are just made of wood and a few screws, the vision in my head was of the guts of a grandfather clock heaped on a wooden work bench — gears and springs and screws and widgets, a cuckoo bird wearing a startled expression – and me wide-eyed and hopelessly confused about how to put the thing back together.

One bird at a time, Manning, one bird at a time (a mantra I picked up from Anne Lamott). Just detach the back from the base and yank the goddamn slats out.

And so I did. Four of the five slats came apart easily; one of the end slats is firmly adhered to the side piece and since the bond is so strong I’m going to treat those two pieces as one.

I picked up the bottom piece of the back. It has slots for the ends of five slats, each a few inches wide and about an inch deep. Only a few of them seemed to have old glue in them. Easy peasy, right? I got a rag and poured some denatured alcohol into a dish. Chose the glue-pickin’-est rasp and set to work.

But damn, that old glue did NOT want to come off. I worked a long time on the smallest little bit of glue. Poured a little of the alcohol into the slot to see if soaking in it would loosen the glue. While that soaked, started on slat #1, which also had small but tenacious gobs of old glue on it. Chipped and poked and scraped at it. It was getting hot out, and I was starting to feel really grimy and sweaty, and OHMYGOD this was all so painfully fucking slow. I’d say I was inching along except that progress was on an even smaller scale. I believe I spent an entire hour cleaning the glue off half an inch of wood.

Why?

Oy, god, was this even going to be worth it after all?

And then I remembered A asking me the same thing when I first I told him I was planning to fix the chairs by taking them all the way apart and then reassembling them. He asked me why I wouldn’t just do the short-term fix, the old squirt-wood-glue-in-the-joints-while-the-chair’s-assembled thing. After all, he said, “It’s not like they have any resale value.”

Resale value?

It’s not about monetary value, not even a little bit, or about restoring them with any sort of high falutin’ intentions. It’s about wanting something I labored over / made solid / came to love. And I know I will — labor, make solid, love. Because I’m determined to demand patience of myself, and to at least attempt precision. Even if it takes me a year!

And it might, because yeah. All I did today was take the back off Chair #1 and clean the glue off two of the 20+ pieces of wood that make up each chair.

And now, since this is clearly going to be a long journey, I thought I’d chronicle it for posterity. Or therapy. Or both.

And so it begins. Please pardon the dust.