Sometimes There's Just No Tellin'

what's happening here on the Farm. (Yes. That is is a 10ml beaker. I have hundreds of them!)

Take this evening, for example. I went to lock up the Jager Haus (formerly known as as the 'Bunk House'

which is still not  yet put together properly)

and I came upon this:

What the H-E-Double Toothpicks is this sitting on the table that is the staging area for the 

bar Refurbishment?

It's Western Cedar. We-- that' s Daughter C and I (!) -- have been breathing paint stripper for months. I've rehabilitated an ancient Craftsman belt sander which works like a charm. It's-- the bar, not the sander-- almost ready to move inside and assume it's place under the bar top (see photo above- look for the orange drill, place bar under bar top) which, I might add, I've stripped and sanded AND stained.

Where was I? 

No Tellin'.

~~

"Marica?"

"Yes, Missy?"

"What aren't you telling?"

"Oh, Missy! You silly. There's no tellin' what I'm not tellin'!"