It’s tougher to angle baseboards and crown moulding properly than it looks, as I learned by watching my father nearly suffer a nervous breakdown during one memorable weekend project in the early ’90s. One of the things he told me then, and reiterated decades later when he helped replace the baseboards in my first house, was to shave off as little at a time as you reasonably can once you’re close to having the right fit.
By your sixth return trip to the saw, he explained, you’ll want to hack off more than a sliver. And then you’ll pay for it, because you can always cut off just a tiny bit more but once it’s gone you can’t put it back on. It was something I reminded myself of earlier as my patience dwindled. I had only two 18″ lengths of moulding to work with, which didn’t leave much room for error, and am pleased to report the second remains untouched.*
Next were the baseboards. Unhappy with the appearance of the only half-scale design currently available to me, I decided to DIY it using wood from my stash of small odds and ends. Once everything fit properly, I retreated to the Grandma Suite to pre-stain. The second coat of stain is currently drying, but you’ll see the finished product soon enough.
Here we have Matoto, Pete’s Basenji, relaxing on a rug I was sent as a freebie by a hobbyist from whom I’d purchased something-or-other. In the first photo he’s joined by a Basil candidate who didn’t make the cut but will be utilized in another capacity. Our presumptive Basil joins them in the second photo. If he looks familiar, it’s because he’s a bigger, more cleanly printed version of the passenger on Pete’s boat.
My initial criticism was that he was too tall. But in his larger iteration I realized his ramrod posture was true to character and also influenced (to some extent) my perception of his height. There was another figure, not pictured, that was the official second Basil candidate, but he was too conventionally handsome and unaffected. Basil’s background, and his deep-seated insecurities about both that and his appearance, fuel his foppishness.
This is Pete in different stages of his life. Unless I learn how to use 3D modeling software, which could happen in the future, I’m going to have to mix and match different figures to play the same characters. With any luck I can pull it off more in the tradition of Bewitched or Dr. Who than Roseanne’s dueling-Beckys nightmare.
Pete’s expression says it all about this guy. We’ll get around to that eventually.
This is my favorite of all these hastily-snapped photos because it has a stagey look, like an off-Broadway play with an audience of dozens.** It recalls the pronouncement of a (non-resin) figure admired — and occasionally debated — by Basil and Pete: “man is a history-making creature who can neither repeat his past nor leave it behind.”
The second photo shows either a young Pete or a young Basil — choose your own adventure — and Nan, Pete’s best friend, whose attire gives you an indication of what they all three have in common.
I’ll leave you with a rear view of Pete’s baggy, rumpled pants, about which Basil often complained. Also, an update: the surgical oncologist believes my dad’s melanoma is either stage one or stage two. Once they’ve done more testing they’ll know if he needs immunotherapy or if surgery and six-month checkups will suffice.
* The unpainted end there bugs me, but touch-ups will be done later.
** Pete’s held aloft by tweezers or leans against the couch because I haven’t sanded the soles of his boots yet and he’s a fall risk in the meantime.