On Friday, Steve wrote that his dad was coming up to Buffalo to help us paint. Immediately, we both knew our meager painting party was about to turn into a production. As Steve said in an email, "he's bring drop cloths, and dad-ness." Dad-ness he brought.
BJ calls a team meeting in the living room.
Steve's dad--heretofore known as BJ or the Beege--came armed with a box full of things we did not have, some of which I never thought of acquiring: plug-in lamps for dark corners, a wire brush, a tall ladder, more brushes, more drop cloths, more trays, and items whose functions I still do not understand.
When we got to the house, BJ and Sara took a look around as neither had seen the place in person. Soon though, a "team meeting" was called and the Beege took a seat on the only chair in the room. He asked for a piece of paper and a pen so that he could write out a work plan.
"What are painting in this room?" He asked. We continued on like this until all rooms were accounted for and then we prioritized based on each job. Agreeing that certain friends/family members might need more supervision than others, BJ agreed to be the resident grump. Or to put it a different way, he agreed to be the Dad of the Painting Party.
And he's nice!
Seeing that it would require the most amount of work, BJ took on my writing room and its pink walls, trim, ceiling, and doors. The rest of us began taping things off and after that was done, we cut in and rolled.
Throughout the day, whenever we needed a deciding opinion, we asked BJ. He almost always had an answer that sounded official and undoubtedly correct.
Inspecting Sara's work in the Orange Room.
At the end of Day One, we sat down for another team meeting done in improved Robert's Rules style. I made a motion to do a second coat of "Pollination" first and Steve seconded my motion. The Beege declared it resolved and we moved on to Towne Restaurant for a late dinner.
Wrapping up Day One with another team meeting.
Not to be upstaged, my Dad--heretofore known as the Coach--decided to come over Sunday morning. When the Coach and BJ met, the world almost exploded because of their dad-ness and mustache power.
The Coach proved to be, as noted earlier on the blog, a beast with the roller. In case you missed it the first time, here he is whipping through a second coat of "Garden Pot," right after he cut in and rolled our red entryway.
Coach doesn't mess around.
The Dads bonded over things like the bizarre consistency of the "Pollination" paint or whether or not we should sand something dry or wet*. They each were quick and precise and finally, when they both decided we were all good to go on our own, they let us snap this final picture:
Mustaches of power!
*What is with the universal Dad qualities? I'm also remembering when my friend Brynn and I shared a storage space one summer before college and our Dads conspired to make our belongings fit inside. Something unspoken went one between them in the process. Bizarre.