Of Mutins and Moulding
I’ve got you under my shim
By Mary Mendoza
After eighteen months of slapstick comedy and melodrama, sparring with sales people over the idiosyncrasies of trim, frantic phone calls to our sales rep about some missing flanges, and general bedlam, our wood window project is complete.
It was a great learning experience. For example, I found out that trim is also called molding or moulding. In France it’s moldier, in Italy fascia, and in the Czech Republic zkracovat.
A fin, AKA nailing flange, is not to be confused with fascia just as a Finn is not to be confused with a Swede or Dane. If installed improperly, a flange will turn against you faster than an Ohio voter on election eve.
Muntins, nifty snap-into place dividers that mimic paned windows, are also known as mullions, grids, grilles or bars across the windows. They’re not to be confused with the muntins Martha Stewart sees from her cell.
Rough opening (RO) doesn’t refer to Nathan Lane’s latest Broadway show; it is Windowese for gaping hole in the wall where the window ought to be.
Krypton gas, which is harvested on the planet Krypton by hairy little hobbits, is pumped between the windowpanes instead of real air, which is $54 a barrel.
Measuring up
You need top-notch match skills to tackle a project of this size and scope. If you are not so inclined use this simple formula to determine how much linear feet of trim you’ll need: measure all around the window then multiply that figure by 12, subtract Norm Abram’s body weight, and divide the earth’s circumference by Joan Rivers’ real age.
Wax on, wax not off
Wood windows can be finished with wax, stain, varnish or paint. Unlike legs or floors, waxing wood is an irreversible commitment.
Stain is also permanent. If the color turns out wrong, you’ll have to sell the house. Trust me, it’s easier.
Varnish must be carefully applied on a smooth, clean surface. It should not be applied by anyone who thinks she is a princess. Or during a dust storm. Or in the dark. Or after consuming a pint of vodka.
Paint, if not chosen by someone calm and rational, can be a major source of marital tension for decades to come.
Seeking professional help
“Should I wax my mutants?” I asked the listless sales woman at the home improvement center.
“Your what?”
“My window mutants!” I said. “The grilles, you know, the bar like things on the glass.”
“Oh, you mean muntins,” she said.
“Muntins, mutants, minions, they’re all Greek to me,” I said. “I’m torn between wax and varnish but will consider stain if I can find something just right.”
“That’s up to you. I can’t get involved,” she said, turning away.
“My good woman, it’s not like I’m asking you to testify against a mob boss. Just look at my fabric samples and design scheme and help me pick out something to suit my personality and busy lifestyle.”
“Uh, my dinner break is in 5 minutes.”
“You’re obviously new or you’d know this store has a standing order to service me whenever I require servicing,” I said, channeling Queen Victoria.
Our son, who is my bodyguard/keeper, took my arm and said, “Come on Mom, it’s time to leave now.”
“I am NOT leaving until I get what I came for! ” I yelled.
“Let’s go over to mouldings and see what they have,” he said, steering me away.
Over in mouldings, I was immediately distracted by the myriad of choices. Should I get ash, pine, peanut or pumpkin? The sculptured grape motif at $30 an inch (sure to make my husband hypertensive), or the basic bland trim from the Laura Bush Collection?
“How much wood trim would a woodchuck chuck if he could chuck wood or would he go with vinyl?” I joked with the sales clerk, an equally stoic version of Wax Woman.
“Uh, my break starts in five minutes,” he said.
I eventually chose the pine trim in an ivy pattern that matches nothing else we have so we had to redecorate most of the house, but that’s another story for another day.
Can I give you a hand?
It was time to remove the old picture window.
“Call the rental place and get one of those octopus things,” my husband said.
I got my pal Ernie on speed dial.
“Hi, Ernie, this is Madcap. Yes, I’m mending well, thanks. The stitches come out next week. Chain saws really ought to have safety locks. Listen, I need to rent one of those giant octopus-like suction cup things to attach to a picture window.”
“Two hours, four hours or all day?” Ernie asked.
“Gee, I can’t imagine it taking more than ten minutes, so put us down for two hours.”
“You want the medical insurance this time? It’s only $140 extra.”
“No, thanks. What could happen?” I giggled. “And Ernie, just out of curiosity what is this tool officially called?”
“The window glass sucking apparatus,” he giggled.
We removed the window in less than four hours with no major injuries or fatalities–another victory for our team!
Finned, trimmed and muntined
The day the shims came out my husband and I celebrated with champagne.
“Those holes in the plaster around the window will heal up eventually,” I mused.
“The varnish is sure to dry before the next presidential election,” he said.
“Do you think the trim looks too Swiss Alps and not Tuscan enough?" I asked.
“Do you have the divorce lawyer on speed dial?” he asked.
“I love my wood windows! They’re perfect, honey. Great job. Can’t wait to do this again in twenty years. Pour me some more bubbly.”
Next on Madcap: Bathroom Boondoggle
---------
Hey, Madcap Mary fans! Madcap’s new book, Embracing Lunacy, is here! It features 30 wacky true stories and zany illustrations about decorating, remodeling, life’s little foibles and the splendor of menopause. Visit Madcap’s Web site http://www.madcapmary.com to order or contact her at princess@madcapmary.com.
Perfect for holiday gift-giving!
