(a love affair )

I really wish I had some pictures to go with this post and to be fair I truly did intend on taking some, but somewhere between the start of my day and the end of it my camera just didn't find it's way out of the bag. Perhaps it was because most of the day I spent covered from head to toe in a good inch thick layer of saw dust, or maybe perhaps my mind was so involved with the humming vibrations being sent through my body starting at the hand and finding it's way to my toes that I couldn't focus, or maybe my camera never found it's way out from it's case for no other reason than I simply just forgot about it. I'm not really interested in telling you about my camera today. I'm not interest in sharing stories about my Birds or to even sharing with you my excitement over the 21 more days it will be until my husband gets home. No. Today I want to tell you a story about love. Love between me and my new best friend. My new partner in crime. Perhaps even the love of my life.....

yes the love story between me and my new sander. In a belated/somewhat sweet birthday present moment my father came home yesterday with the Ryobi 5 In. Vs Ro Sander and well it was like in the movies. The moment where the two characters meet for the first time. The music starts to play and the camera slows down revealing the gaze one character gives to the other. I swear in that moment the world slowed and time stopped. We were together. It was magical. All weekend long I had been gluing and cutting and clapping my wood together waiting in anticipation for the moment when my piece would be finished all the while dreading the moment that I had to pull out the heavy, annoying, overheating, almost painful hand sander in order to smooth out my wood before getting back to the gluing, and clapping, and staining finale....ugh I was in total dread. But then when the stars aligned and the sea parted revealing to me the sander for the God's I was at peace. I couldn't wait. I hurried outside like a kid running down the stairs on Christmas morning. I set up my table, stumbled to find my wood, slipped on a small hidden-behind-my-shoe piece of scrap and began to sand. There was no harsh start up. No arm ripping shake. Just the subtle, sweet vibrations of the paper touching the wood. The sander glided my hand over the wood with such ease and grace that I didn't even have to think about it, and faster than I had ever seen before my wood began to smooth like butter. There was a moment, a mere moment where I am certain the clouds parted and allowed the sun to beam into my garage and touch the tip of the sander in all it's glory so that God himself could admire it...yes, it was heaven. And it's all mine.