If you're new here (and I don't really think anyone is, but hope is a stoic beast), you need to know that we started remodeling the kitchen a little under a year ago. It's still not QUITE all the way done, so there are still gripping and heartwrenching tales to tell.
Part of the kitchen remodel process was to design and build 4 stained glass panels for the hutch area over the appliance/buffet area. There are 4 cabinet doors, each with a 9-inch 'reveal' for the glass work, and about 5 inches between panels.
For about 6 months those panels have been bare of accoutrement, and still are.
But things are a-changing.
As of last Sunday, there are a hundred bucks or so of new glass in the house, the kitchen table is stretched out, covered in cardboard, and is templated. There are designs sketched. Some of those designs have made it onto corrugated plastic backing, and even more miraculous, ONE WHOLE PANEL has been cut out and pieced.
FYI - My contribution thus far has been in the design process. Biff is the layout and cutting artist. Because, the cutting thing? Sharp edges and all. Best I not be involved so much.
Anyway, last night, after having a wonderful time with a good friend here talking about stupid Xerxes and poor Vashti, drinking coffee and eating cake (CAKE!), it was decided that at least one whole panel would be cut and placed in order to make some sense of headway in the stained glass project. It was not me who decided this, as I am lazy to a fault and would have sunk gladly into the couch with a big glass of adult beverage and not moved until ennui did its job.
Biff, however, was more moved, and did a wonderful job of piecing the 'farmland' panel. Snip snip went the snippers, and tap tap went the tappers, and oh carp went the craftsman when something didn't go his way, and merrily along it went for an hour or so. Small pins of glass from edge rounding and 'uh-oh' cuts were carefully deposited in the scrap pile, though some errant few went sailing and then were swept up so that nobody would be impaled.
And lo, it was beautiful.
We finally retired to the couches with our adult beverages, and in not too long a time Biff succumbed to the soul-sucking ick that is the cold he was rapidly developing, and thus he 1) fell asleep on the couch and then 2) went to bed. I professed that I was not yet tired as he shambled off to dreamland, and so stayed awake for a massive 2.5 more minutes after his departure.
At 2:08 in the morning I woke up on the recliner. Comfy, but not as comfy as our bed, so I shuffled off toward it with a single pit stop at the kitchen sink to put away my snack dish.
Which, coincidentally, is where a rogue shard of glass was.
More specifically, on careful inspection, that shard was right under my left foot, between between my second and third toes, jammed in a good 3/4 of an inch.
Shuffling, it appears, is a very effective way to insert sharp things into your meat.
Happily, I was still mostly asleep, and so simply reached down, grabbed the offending article, and yanked. Oh, it did a little 'goopy' slide out (that you can really feel in your back teeth, I swear), but not so bad and nothing to scream about. Just a flesh wound!
And then I bled. And bled and bled and bled and bled, like I was the Olympic FREAKING CHAMPION of BLEEDING, and nothing would stop me from giving my frelling ALL in the bleeding arena.
Let it just be said that the sure cure for fountains of blood gushing forth from the pedal region involves a wad of paper towels and elevation of the wounded bit. You can, and should, leave the mop-up of the trail of gore for a few minutes until the bleeding stops. Word to the wise.
Good thing about all that blood - almost no chance of any shard retention.
Bad thing - I'm fairly sure I'm very retentive. SOMETHING is still in there. Clearly, kitchen wants to kill me.
So, because now we now seem to have a homocidal cookspace, when at last we post photos of the beautiful new stained glass project that will bring us almost all the way to done with the kitchen remodel job we started almost a year ago, please nod to the third panel from the left and thank it for not killing me dead with its sharp shards of glassy death. I'm pretty sure only your thoughts will keep it from jumping out at me now or 30 years from now and cutting me to utter bits in absolute bloodlust.
Alls I can say to that is here's to sloth and unfinished business - Tiff out.