History on a Paintbrush

My man loves tools. I’m told this is a male-type phenomena.

When we were engaged, we walked through a china display at a store looking for a “pattern” to pick for our dishes. He didn’t get it. We searched, and looked, and his eyes would grow wide at prices and his body would contort to move through the displays so not to brush one in passing. I’d be ooing and ahing over some beauty and he’d just not get it. You’d think I would have understood the same display of awe from him in a hardware store, but I didn’t. I didn’t get the extreme care he took in choosing a paintbrush, oh so many years ago. I couldn’t believe the prices. I can’t remember how much, but not your dollar store specials. Ah, but “with the right tools, it’s so much easier”. We collected a couple of really nice ones (he tells me) over the years. I began to actually hate them. When we were finished a painting project, they had to be cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned again, till all the bristles were free of the color of the wall. The hairs laid flat and perfect in their cardboard-fold-over-wrap-around-and-tie case again. I would much prefer to throw a brush out than spend the time washing them to perfection (not eco friendly I admit), but so much less time and water!

This week I have appreciated our Purdy and LeHay brushes, because this time, when we unwrapped them from their cardboard cases, they told Levi, Caleb and I a story, a history, of the homes we’ve lived in. You see, as clean as we got the bristles, the wooden handles hold smudges, or splatters, or speckles of walls past. Right there, that’s the color of our foyer in the Edmonton house, our bathroom, the family room. There’s the single color of our Lethbridge home that took so much work to repair all the bb dents caused by our neglect of reigning in the boy’s enthusiasm for their new sport.

So we happily paint new colors into our brushes and will remember another home where two boys/men and their mom and dad spent time in their lives together. Caleb with his Gibraltar Grey (which I questioned him about over and over and turned out just so beautiful) and Levi with his Maple Leaf Red (lovely name for a rich color that is our Edmonton red) have painted their own rooms and have added their colors to our history.

3 thoughts on “History on a Paintbrush

  1. Marilyn,
    You have a way with words…it was fun to read about your paintbrushes. I understand a little bit, dad is like that too and his brushes are the same.
    Can’t wait to see pictures of your house with your touches on it…maybe we can visit one day.

  2. hi…
    i understand the quality of a paint brush (no picking brush hairs off the wall on canvas)saves time… (precision work)… quality paint and tools means a qualit paint job or picture…
    (anyways) i’m happy you saw a possive on those brushes… i like the way you mind works… chuckles…
    i have wrecked a few good brushes in haste… still miss em…

  3. Thanks, Jenna. We’d love to have you visit and stay!. Hope you’re enjoying Canada.

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