And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar and I say, "Sorry, I'm not eating carbs."

Sometimes life gives you a free piano. And I am not one to turn down something that makes music. So in our tiny living room, we have a piano. And it's small-ish, for a piano. So it's not like a giant hulking piece of furniture, it actually looks quite nice. Except that it's the same color as the floor. Which makes it both blend in and loom over the rest of the living room.

People have been painting pianos lately, the chalk paint craze making everything significantly easier. I looked at color options, but since I didn't want to drive to Malibu or Glendora for a can of paint, I talked myself into the French Linen I already owned.

Here's the thing about painting anything. I am always very excited to paint. Most of my clothes have bits of paint on them because if I have to change clothes to do something, it's a sport. And I don't sport. So I started painting. I had a smallish, new brush and I just went for it. No sanding or anything, just paint. And as I finished the one tiny side and then set about taping off the keys, I realized I was about to eat an elephant. The project grew ten sizes that moment but I was too deep in to stop. So I kept going. But that moment, where I see the mountain I am about to climb, I have it every time. But it always happens too late for me to turn back.

Here is the before. It's the only pic I have. Hartwell Concerto in Aaaaaahahhahh!

When I told John I was painting the piano he said to me, "Don't get paint on the keys." He said it jokingly and I thought, "What kind of moron does he take me for?!" So I said, "Oh, I'm painting the keys green and yellow..."
To which he replied, rather incredulously, "YOU CAN'T PAINT PIANO KEYS!"

And then I laughed and said, "You think I am soooo dumb..."

That conversation doesn't quite play out in print as it did in real life. I thought it was hilarious and it's become my favorite thing.

Here's the after, with unpainted keys. Keys that are begging for photoshop.