Breaking the Rules

I spent the first 50 years of my life following the rules.  As a young person, I thought I'd go to hell if I didn't follow the rules. The older I've gotten the less I follow the rules.  I'm not staying that I break the law because I don't. I do, however, think much more for myself these days and if I want to do something that won't hurt someone else and makes me happier, I do it.  

Case in point are these paint brushes.  Nell gave me a big set of paint brushes with really long handles.  I'm sure there is a good reason for the long handles but I didn't like them.  I've poked myself with them more than once. 

This past weekend I spent time with my dad out in his wood shop.  I asked him to cut off the ends of my brushes.  Then I had the best time using his belt sander to smooth and point the ends.  I was so proud of myself.  I felt like I'd built a building. When I visit my dad I'm not allowed to touch the saws. That would usually irritate me, but I like my fingers a lot so that's a rule I don't buck.

I know this little rebellion on my part will upset some people.  I once told a lady at the Art Supply store that I was going to cut the handle off a brush I was buying.  The poor lady almost had a stroke. I did learn my lesson with the brush.  I tried to break it off with my hands and then I had a really rough, ragged end on my brush.  These days I wait for a saw and a sander.  

The best part about this whole adventure into the world of wood working was spending time with my dad.  More on that later.