that little voice

I’m trying my hand at a project that my hand was not made to do, and it gets more challenging by the peso.

I’m making some local friends what I thought would be a small, simple, quick gift just for my own amusement, and it has turned into a task beyond my expertise, which isn’t very far.

I bought 12 miniature wooden bowls intending to paint each, paste a caricature picture of each friend that we had done several months ago in the center of the bowl, polyurethane all of it and call it good.

I have a friend who does all kinds of crafts and she made it sound like such an elementary job. She instructed me to buy fine sandpaper, a small brush, and the polyurethane.

First of all, who the heck knows fine from ultra-fine sandpaper to medium fine sandpaper, and then attempting to explain in English what I wanted to a gentleman who spoke only Spanish. However, he pointed me to a shelf and let me fondle the various sandpapers until I found one that did not remove my fingerprints.

Then I asked for the brush. Understand the ‘asking’ is done with hand signals and one hopes the gesture is not misunderstood.

The big challenge came when I mentioned polyurethane. Apparently, it is not a common product in San Miguel or my pronouncement of it didn’t register.

I left with an item that said silicon and I thought might not be what I needed, but he had been so helpful I hated to send him back to the dark cellar where apparently such things are kept under lock and key.

My friend came over to view my purchases standing eight feet away and mumbling through her mask and nodding yes for the sandpaper and the brush. But a definite shake of disapproval quickly let me know what I had wasn’t going to work to seal the paint. (Thank goodness I had the paint, so I didn’t have to go searching for that ingredient.)

She carefully wrote down the kind of polyurethane I needed: semigloss, clear, waterproof or water based, I can’t remember, and off I roamed in search of a paint store that would have such materials.

This time, my hand motions and guttural sounds produced a disposal cup full of something and a plastic bottle of some other liquid. As I handed over the necessary pesos, I confirmed I was to mix the two with equal amounts but had no other instructions.

Once again, I messaged this lady who was no doubt wondering why she ever adopted me as a friend or even an acquaintance. A note back stated: “No, don’t use it. I will go with you.” And a second message quickly followed: “I’ll get it and leave it outside your door.”

I understood the next sentence would be “and don’t call me ever again.”

This little ‘project is now half finished. The 12 bowls have been painted, the pictures have been glued in place, and I await the delivery of this magical liquid to occur sometime this year.

Story to be continued. I will keep you posted if I ever see or hear from my once friend.