Shellac

I haven't thought about shellac for a long time. I used to watch my dad pulverize the lacs, mix it with denatured alcohol and then strain the bug parts out of it through a cloth. He used it to finish things he made out of wood, and I suspect that he might have used it as a clear coat over his oil paintings.

From what I read it isn't supposed to yellow with age. If that is so, what is it on all of these old western oil paintings that makes them look so yellowed with age? It is a mystery to me.

Father's Day has come and gone and our sons had good things to say to their dad, my roommate of nearly 50 years. I asked him if he wanted me to make something happen. "Don't bother," he said. I didn't. I told him not to vacume the house. That must have counted for something. Now two days later, I asked him if he might like to do it sometime soon.

Yesterday, I was cleaning out a creeping cedar bed. The fern in the middle were quite tall so I found a place to stand and grabbed a fern plant in both hands pulling for all I was worth. When if finally came loose and out of the ground, I fell completely backward and hit the ground flat on my back. Other than knocking the wind out of my sails and being a little shocking, I am fine. I needed help getting up again. Old women floundering around in the creeping cedar on their backs are about as helpless as mud turtles on their backs.

He who must be obeyed was mad at me for even thinking about pulling weeds. I love pulling weeds.