It's a Process

Six winters ago, when Handyman and I purchased our wonderful home (our first home, in which we are still living), we knew that it required a lot of renovations.

There are still quite a few nagging things that need to get finished (I won't list them here, lest thinking about them overmuch leads me to drink), but we're making some decent headway. This is especially impressive considering that for every project that is completed, the kids destroy three more. Handyman and I are holding our own. Barely.

Anyway, with my parents coming to visit next week, Handyman has made an extra effort to check off a few more items from his extended Honey-do list. Painting the porch has been near the top of my list for six years.
The original porch floor was a lovely tint of Walmart green, which clashed delightfully with our tan siding and red trim.
My Handyman has a difficult time working on our own home for several reasons. 1) his tools tend to "walk away" with the aid of grubby little fingers, 2) our home is over 100 years old, so nothing is straight or level which equals frustration by the spadeful, and 3) his only time to get work done is when he's not otherwise working at his other construction job. (In all fairness, asking him to work on the house would be like asking me to babysit three more additional kids in my free time. Not fun.)

Thankfully, I have whiles and bribes.
The porch has a few more new boards, squeaks less, and has several coats of wet paint basted onto it. Progress report pending. Meanwhile, our trusty freaky headless scarecrow has been making sure everyone stays off the porch while it dries.
(He is headless because the kids rolled his pumpkin head down the hill, trying to determine the number of rolls it would take before his "brains" squished out. I am trying to view this as an exercise of mathematics.)