Those who have visited my little 1956 house know that I am in a long-term war against 45 years of questionable decorating. When I bought the house a few years ago I made great inroads on the flooring front by removing the unusually blue carpeting that was smothering perfectly wonderful honey-oak hardwood, and replacing many of the ugly-puny light fixtures. I was victorious again when I successfully tiled the fireplace, banished all popcorn ceiling and replaced tired tan wallpaper with paint in the livingroom. Since then the war has been stalled. The greatest ongoing battle is being waged in the front hall. Years ago someone glued down faux flagstone sheet vinyl directly onto the beautiful hardwood floor. Who would do such an atrocity? And the walls were covered with 2 layers of wallpaper, then painted, then covered with 3 more layers of wallpaper; all of it ugly beyond belief.
For at least 2 years now I have been scraping at both walls and floor, hoping to preserve what lies below. Considerable elbow grease has resulted in little progress. To add to the, um, scenic nature of this battle zone, Zach has decided that if I can scrape at the walls, so can he. He has designated one of the walls as a scratching zone. It was clearly time for an arms escalation.
I am now the proud owner of both a heat gun and a wallpaper steamer. You can rent either of these tools, but the number of hours needed would cost more than buying the equipment. I spent way too many hours yesterday wielding the scary heat gun. I know it was way too many hours because I can hardly move today.
Encouraging instructions on the 'net say just heat the surface and the flooring and glue will easily scrape right off. Not exactly. Six hours of heating and scraping cleaned up about 4 square feet of flooring. Still, this is more progress than I have managed in 2 years.
Next weekend I'll try out the wallpaper steamer. War is Hell.
One of the great joys of finishing a project is the anticipation of a new project. There are so many options! When I finished the socks, I set about starting another similar-sized carry-along project. It was not to be. Sitting on a shelf in my fiber room was 3 balls of intensely red cashmere-merino yarn. It has been there for years, quietly biding its time, not being the least bit intrusive into my creative process. Suddenly it has become pushy, crying for incorporation into something soft, cuddly, yet elegant. I tried to ignore it and launch into something sensibly portable and reasonably doable in distracting environments. Maybe another pair of socks, I thought. But still the red yarn wormed its way into my consciousness. And it had to be a lace something. So here it is in its embryonic form: the Kimono Shawl from "Folk Shawls" by Cheryl Oberle. I want it a bit bigger, so I have increased the width-wise pattern repeats by 50%. (Sorry about the poor picture.) I hope I have enough yarn! 
