Old Books and Hats

Fall is upon us and of course that makes it an iffy thing to plan outdoor work around here.

Like this week when we were planning to rent a tractor and get some serious diggin' done, then witnessed a two day long deluge of rain. Happy news for the firefighters around the state, but sad news for our plans. In the meanwhile I am going around winterizing and repairing what I can.

 

This brings me to my subject at hand. Lost knowledge and old books.
I have a few old books that I have picked up at estate sales and thrift stores that I enjoy for the sheer wonderfulness of their contents of lost knowledge and also, as an artist, for the endearing illustrations.

It's always nice when you can have the Alien next door model for your drawing.

 Getting the books out today got started by the fact that I am trying to glaze some ancient and neglected french windows. I have never actually glazed a window, nor has Buck and my father has never done it either.

Where does one turn in these moments of despair? No, Not to Google, come on, there are other ways of finding these things out!

It is the ancient art, nearly lost in time, of looking it up in a book. Silly.

 

In my books of lost knowledge I can learn what all those odd things in a moldy tool box are.

Or how to build a Fire Proof Floor.

I could even make it fancy with just a miter box and hand saw at my disposal.

 

Or how to set fire to my table.

 

I have been desperately trying to strip an old door which has one coat of paint after another, in colors that seem to commemorate every Volkswagen Bug ever produced. This technique is something I am definitely going to try when it is not so dry out. Those poor firefighters have enough to do than to put out a door that I will only be slightly sad to see turn to embers.

 

One thing my sharp eye has noticed is the prevalence of the Fedora on these handy guys. I got Buck one right away.

According these books I deduce that if I dress Buck in a fancy Fedora he will look great doing all the things that need to be done.

 But I am beginning to think he pictures his fedora wearing resulting more in this outcome.

 

 
I am of course looking better than I ever have in my perky hairdo and my Betty Crocker apron.

 

But I, unlike Buck, am getting things done. For instance I am a whiz on my calculator that is the size of a Studebaker. And I look quite good using it to calculate how to feed all those Fedora wearing men my husband keeps bringing home, while I cleverly avoid glazing french windows by reading old books. There are, after all, only just so many hours in a day.