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.

And when the music starts I never wanna stop Its gonna drive me crazy

My husband and I were in Old Town Pasadena walking around with the kids. We decided to divide and conquer so I took the baby and wandered around the Crate and Barrel and he took the big one to run around outside. As Hartwell dilly-dallied down the street, a city bus pulled along him and stopped. The bus was full of people. The driver looked at Hartwell, who was in his own world, and yelled to my husband, "You need to get him a keyboard. A full size keyboard. He's gonna make you money." My husband kind of nodded and said thank you and then the bus driver added, "Not the little ones. A FULL SIZE keyboard!" Did I mention that the bus was full of people?

We've always thought that it would only help our kids if they have some musical knowledge. (And I have no problem forcing my boys into a band). We have a couple of guitars in the basement and Hartwell knows how to turn on the amp and get the music goin'. And when we visit Aunt Ninny, the boys attack the piano with such force that I always wished we had one. While simultaneously thanking the gods that we don't.

And then, the universe gave us one. An amazing friend needed to find a home for her piano and asked if we'd like to have it. We were so happy! Music everywhere!

It arrived yesterday and Hartwell sat sweetly at the keys and asked if he could play it. I thought,"Awww,...I can handle this!" Turns out it was a one time thing. Now there's nary a pause before "BANG! BANG! BANG!" But we love it. And I'm learning that multitasking in the presence of obnoxious piano banging can be done.