(Flash back post - 30 August 2021)
This is a story about an epic screwup.
It all started when I ventured outside my comfort zone.
With a collection of stains and varnishes in front of me, I endeavored to try them out. The results were mixed, from - that’s not bad, to - I’m never using a stain-and-varnish-in-one ever again!
I’m not a painter - or perhaps the truth is I have yet to find joy in the process, and find it challenging to be non-judgemental with myself about it.
Then during tidy up, a mere 10cm from the protective plastic drop sheet, I dropped a WHOLE tin of oil based beached blue stain on my back patio.
My first thought (after swear words) was “No amount of turps is going to clean this! ”
In an attempt to salvage the situation, I got down on my hands and knees, and with a rag spread it out to the edges and half way across one section of the patio. It was messy. I was emotionally messy.
My teenager came out at that that moment, took one look at my pouty sad face, and my hands covered in blue, “what have you done now!?!”
We now have a large blue painted “mat” out the back door.
It’s been a few days since then. I still have blue stained hands, I’ve shared the story with friends, laughed at myself and the situation. My teen and I reckon we kind of like it.
From here though, I can begin to see the gifts.
The gift that it was the blue tin, not the barn red satin (For that I’m exceptionally grateful! ).
The gift that is actually matches my old weatherboard house.
The gift of a colourful backdrop for today’s ephemeral art.
The gift of shadows noticed after dark.
The gift of creative wonderings of what I might do with the little left in the tin (thinking outlines of geometric shapes on the other half of the section to balance out the “mat”?)
The gift of knowing there’s more screwups in my future and that’s ok.
“Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life." - Sopia Loren
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