Category: New house

2/27/07

Dinyel has gotten me completely and totally hooked on this site. I haven’t ordered anything (yet!), but I lovelovelove looking at the jewelry. They have some really pretty stuff, and I always think about ordering anything with a topaz in it (such a pretty stone!), but have held strong, so far. I saw some really pretty earrings I liked, but they had the wire back on them rather than the straight pin with the back, and I can’t wear wire-backed earrings, because the end of the wire gives me a rash under my ear. It’s only in the last few years that I’ve come to realize I prefer silver over gold – though I do own jewelry in both, and even wear them together sometimes. Not that I wear much jewelry, but when I do, I don’t hesitate to mix gold and silver. I wear white after Labor Day, too. Life’s too short to stress that shit, don’tchathink?

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What I spent yesterday doing: Cooking, cooking, cooking… and cooking! Since I’m spending today and tomorrow out in Smallville, I don’t want to have to worry about cooking dinner before I leave, so I made Tex-Mex, Taco Beef stuff, Chicken and Rice Casserole, and then pork chops and sweet potato crack for dinner last night. I packaged all of the three first meals into single-serving containers, froze some, refrigerated some, and god willing and the creek don’t rise, I won’t have to cook again for the rest of the week, except for vegetables to go with the meals. I also made a CORE Salsa Meatloaf and a spaghetti squash, so for the next few weeks I’ll be eating meatloaf with a side of spaghetti squash for lunch most days. Just call me Betty Homemaker. I wasn’t thrilled to spend such a large part of the day cooking, but I was able to watch TV while I cooked (potential problem in Smallville: Can’t see the TV from the kitchen!) and get several shows erased off the DVR. Plus, I won’t have to cook again for the rest of the week, so that kinda makes the time spent now worth not having to spend time doing it in the future, if that makes any sense.
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I’ll be leaving Smallville around 4 this afternoon to drive to Madison, pick up Joe Bob, and take him to the pet store. Yes, after he’s been with us for something like two months, it’s time for him to go and possibly be adopted. He’s adapted really well to life here and he’s such a sweet boy, but I really think that seven cats is just too many for us to have on a permanent basis. Six really feels like the right number for us – add a seventh, and I feel like there are cats every three inches, and I’m always stepping on or kicking one of them (by accident, you understand). Also, I was told by a hateful man that if we adopted Joe Bob, I’d never be allowed to foster again, ever, so off Joe Bob goes. Another woman who fosters for the same shelter once told me, basically, “I love the hell out of them while I’ve got them, and then when it’s time, I pass them along for someone else to love. It’s never easy.” She’s right, it’s never easy – but I know someone’s going to love the hell out of Joe Bob, and now that he’s healthy it’s time for him to go be where they can find him.
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What kind of improvements need to be made to the foster kitty area above the garage? Are you going to move in before you fix it up? Basically, the foster kitty area above the garage needs to be completely built. There’s nothing on the upper floor of the garage except a floor. We need to drywall the walls, put in insulation, replace the windows, put in a heating/ air conditioning window unit, and build the room. We’re only using about half the upper floor as a foster cat room (the other half will be for storage), so we need to put up walls to define the room. So it’s not going to happen real soon. There are other things that need to happen first – the small deck/ steps off the computer room door to the outside, the chicken coop, the backyard fenced in, the big shed Fred wants to build – before the cat room becomes a priority. For the time being, I’ll be using the guest bedroom as a cat foster room (when I get more fosters, that is), until we get the room over the garage built.
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I will expect, however, some seriously funny posts about how the cats are adjusting to the move. I do hope your house sells fast – you kitties NEED their mommy there at night – they need a body to drape upon, walk over, knead (poor suggie) and otherwise pester. I hope you are gearing up for some pitiful looks and Look O’ Hate ™ (from Mr. Boog) when you get to Smallville in the mornings. Actually, the kitties will have their mommy there at night – we were originally going to have Fred move to Smallville and stay out there nights, while I stayed in Madison with the spud. But really, it makes more sense to have him stay in Madison with the spud, since it’s closer to work for him. So I’ll be sleeping out in Smallville with the cats and spending part of the day there, then driving to Madison to hang out with Fred and the spud, make dinner, and make sure the house is presentable for any buyers who want to check it out. And some days they’ll come out to Smallville and hang out (though there won’t be any cable or internet connection in Smallville until we’re all living there). All the driving back and forth won’t be fun, but I think we’ll deal with it okay. Hopefully we’ll get the house sold quickly!
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“See yas. I’m off to find a home where they don’t yell at me for pulling food out of the garbage can. That’s what it’s THERE FOR, people! What am I SUPPOSED to do when I want a snack?”
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Previously 2006: I swear to god, I have NO CONTROL over what comes out of my mouth sometimes. 2005: No entry. 2004: Dude, what the fuck? I don’t talk for 20 to 30 minutes on the phone to people I know and LIKE, let alone some strange man from the CDC! 2003: A Day in the Life of Mr. Fancypants. 2002: No entry. 2001: But I kinda like the irritability. 2000: My heart stopped, my jaw dropped, and I whispered “Oh, shiiiiiiiiiiit!”]]>

2/26/07

* * * Dear all readers: It’s perfectly fine to say “hi” to me, should you stumble across me in the future. I’ll probably be a little freaked out, but I’ll get over it quickly, I promise. If you’re too shy to come say “hi” and I already noticed the bug-eyed look you gave me, a subtle nod and wave before you run in the other direction will do. Sincerely, Bitchypoo

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Christ, what a weekend we had. We spent Saturday and Sunday working on the house and I feel like I didn’t get shit accomplished. Saturday I don’t think I did anything but caulk and do whatever piddly little things that needed to be done (quarter-round moulding painted, stuff like that). Before Friday I’d never caulked before, but now I’m just a caulking machine. I’ll be spending all day tomorrow out at the house trying to get the rest of the rooms caulked (I only got the computer room, dining room, and kitchen caulked over the weekend) and puttied, before I start scrubbing down the walls (the floors guys used their “dustless” system, which still managed to leave quite a large amount of dust on the walls), taping the rooms, and painting the trim. I’m really looking forward to painting all the trim in the house, not to mention scrubbing down all the walls. I think you can imagine how very much I’m looking forward to it. Also, the tile in the bathrooms needs to be sealed, but I think I’ll leave that for Fred (or not, we’ll see). Other thing I did this weekend that I had never done before: stained wood. We’re putting quarter-round moulding down on the stairs. I thought it should be stained, Fred thought it should be white. I won out, and got to actually stain said quarter-round moulding. I’d never done it before, but it wasn’t all that hard, really. We had issues with the bathrooms. We (I) tossed out important items that have to do with the bathtub fixtures and thought Fred was going to have a stroke trying to deal with them. Finally he said “This doesn’t have to be done today,” and went on to do other things, like hang the new medicine cabinet in the two downstairs bathrooms. In fact, the back half-bath is completely done except for touch-up painting, and the front bathroom is done except for hanging the door and putting the fixtures on the tub. Oh, and hanging the shower rod and buying a shower curtain for both the showers. The more I think about it, the more I remember stuff that needs to be done. Ugh. Also, it looks like our bathrooms are going to be half brushed nickel (the sink fixtures, the towel bars) and half chrome (the shower fixtures). I don’t love the idea, but I can live with it. Unless someone’s looking closer than they oughta at our bathroom fixtures, they probably won’t notice – the difference isn’t glaring. Yeah, mock me. You don’t have to live there, so shaddup. I just won’t invite you to dinner. Most of the blinds downstairs are hung, and it makes a surprising difference in the feel of the house. I stood in the computer room for almost ten minutes yesterday afternoon planning how and where I was going to put my desk (in front of the set of windows, so the cats sleeping on my desk can look outside, in case you were wondering). We’re on track to do the first big move in two weeks, I think. Dudes, the house is really coming together! Eek! Also, I didn’t take a picture to show this because I suck, but there are 10 million gumballs from the gumball trees behind the garage and shed. They’re laying all over the driveway and the lawn, and they annoy the hell out of me. I told Fred we should rake them up and burn them, but then I heard the gumball trees laaaaaaaaaugh and say “Yeah, you rake them up. There are another 10 million where those came from, lady!” Hmph. The winter honeysuckle bushes on either side of the porch smell absolutely fabulous. They’re lemony and citrusy and very light and springy smelling. I like them a lot. I’m not so crazy about what I think are spirea bushes planted next to the honeysuckle bushes, but I’m going to wait to see them do their thing before I decide whether I want to yank them up and put butterfly bushes in their place or not. I’m thinking the front flower beds are going to consist of just bushes – azaleas and something else, I don’t know what at the moment – and I can do the flower thing in pots sitting on and hanging from the front porch. There’s going to be some serious petunias going on in Smallville this summer, I tell you what. A single, solitary crocus growing in the middle of the lawn. The camellia bush is starting to bloom. Apparently it enjoys its spot next to the septic tank.
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I don’t know when you can expect an entry from me next. I’ll be spending all day Tuesday and all day Wednesday out at the house working. If I get a chance I’ll do entries on those days, but if not I guess I’ll see you on Thursday!
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: God, why why WHY do women do this to themselves? 2003: A Day in the Life of Spanky. 2002: No entry. 2001: Saturday was my dumbass day. 2000: No entry.]]>

2/22/07

* * * The cats have been fucking nuts lately, hauling ass from one end of the house to the other, picking fights with each other, just generally being a pain in the ass. I don’t know if it’s the warmer weather, or the fact that it’s been really nice out and I won’t let them into the back yard (we don’t have a collar for Joe Bob, so I don’t dare to let them out. I’d hate to have to call the shelter manager and tell her I lost Joe Bob!) or what. I don’t mind the wildness during the day, but at night and in the early morning when I’m trying to sleep, it REALLY pisses me off. Yesterday morning I was trying to sleep in a little – something I haven’t done in a while, since I’m on this get-up-at-6 bullshit kick – and the cats were racing around and fighting and being a pain in the ass. I had to yell at them a couple of times, and then there was a period of silence, during which I started to fall back asleep. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a herd of elephants hauling ass through the house, then the bedroom door flew open, and I heard a weird squeaking sound. I opened my eyes, looked toward the closet, and saw the most amazing sight. Tommy was perched halfway up the doorway casing, just HANGING there. I’d never seen anything like it so I stared at him for a minute, then yelled “Tommy, what the hell?!”, whereupon he let go, fell to the floor and raced off. Boy, it sure is a good goddamn thing we put SoftPaws on his claws, isn’t it? I’d hate for him to be able to CLIMB things. Fucker. The SoftPaws don’t slow his stupid ass down at ALL. Last Thursday, because Joe Bob was at the vet’s, I let the cats into the back yard. Not only does Tommy have SoftPaws on his claws, he wears a collar that’s supposed to shock him if he gets too close to the fence. I was sitting on the couch watching TV when I happened to glance out the window in time to see Tommy run across the back yard as fast as he could (and he can move pretty fast for a portly cat), then run UP the tree by the shed, and begin climbing. I went out and coaxed him down – all the while, his collar was beeping, because Fred’s got the electric fence hiked up so the cats can’t, oh, CLIMB THE TREES or they’ll get zapped – and then not half an hour later the little fuckhead did it again. I coaxed him down, then made all the cats come inside and told them it was Tommy’s fault for being a fucking fucker. At least the SoftPaws keep the little bastard from scratching.

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I spent another 10 hours out in Smallville yesterday, and all I got accomplished was to paint the trim in the upstairs bathroom, twice. The biggest pain in the ass about painting trim is having to do all the damn taping, and I used the blue painter’s tape instead of the masking tape. Naturally, when I pulled the blue tape up at the end of the day, paint from the wall came up with it. This has never been an issue when I’ve used masking tape, so I guess I need to go back to using that instead of the blue tape. Sad, really – I had such high hopes for the blue tape. I did get the switches and plugs in the hallway and downstairs bathroom replaced, too, but the day wasn’t a total waste. Actually, it wasn’t a waste at all – I got the bathroom trim painted, and (mostly) finished my bedroom closet, but I had hoped to get more done in the course of 10 hours. Speaking of my bedroom closet, some pictures. This is what I spent the ENTIRE weekend working on. You think it’s going to be a quick job, and those are the ones that always end up taking 63 times longer than it should. First, I had to tape the closet to protect the air intake vent thingy, because we wouldn’t want to get paint on THAT, hellz no. It’s not like it would just wipe up or anything! Actually, once I started covering it, I realized it was just like wrapping a present and wasn’t that hard to do. Unnecessary, maybe, but not hard. I also put several layers of paper down to protect the floor, which was a good damn thing. I was painting the ceiling and managed to knock the container of ceiling paint over. But because I’d put so much paper down, not a single drop got on the floor. Go, me! The top of the closet and the ceiling. The master bedroom was originally the dining room, so I imagine the entire room had this wallpaper border. The brown paper under the border is what the rest of the wall was covered in. I don’t know what the hell this paper was. I wouldn’t think it was wallpaper, but I kind of think it must have been. The previous owners didn’t put this on the wall, just left it there. Looking up at the shelf. The brown wall is that wallpaper stuff; the wall to the right is just drywall (the previous owners had to create a closet in the bedroom, so used drywall). So, I thought all I’d need to do was paint the ceiling and then paint the walls of the closet. I didn’t know what the brown paper was, but thought it could surely be painted over. I got the ceiling – which was covered with white paper – painted, and it almost immediately started to peel. Then I painted the walls of the closet, and the brown paper softened and started to peel as well. Obviously, just painting over the paper wasn’t going to work. I started pulling the paper away, and was surprised (though I shouldn’t have been) to find lovely wooden walls under there. And that’s how I spent the entire three-day weekend – first I had to scrape the brown paper off the walls and the white paper off the ceiling. I found this wallpaper on the ceiling. Yes, wallpaper on the ceiling. I don’t know, don’t ask me. So anyway, I scraped the brown paper off the walls and the white paper off the ceiling, which left a lot of brown crap all over the walls, so I had to go back, wet down the brown crap, scrape it off, then go back again and scrub the walls with a green scrubby thing. Partly finished. I’m completely finished now (forgot to take an “after” picture), and the back and left wall and ceiling of the closet is comprised of this lovely wood. Fred suggested that I just paint over it, but I like the bare wood. Yesterday, I painted the dry wall portion of the closet (the right wall and the inside of the front wall) the light silvery purple that the top part of my bedroom is painted. Now all we have to do is stain some corner pieces and put them up, then put some trim around the bottom of the closet (I actually painted some wood when I was painting the closet originally, because the brown paper didn’t go all the way to the bottom of the wall), hang some shelves, and we’ll be done! I think it took me longer to get the closet done than it took Fred to do the entire damn room. But it’s a fine-looking closet, I’ll tell you that! We made a fire in the dining room fireplace not once, but twice this weekend. My jacket and my purse still smell like smoke from the fire (it was very windy this weekend). I’m doing my best to convince Fred that we should get a pellet stove for the dining room, because my parents got a pellet stove recently, and have nothing but good things to say about it. I’m not sure how successful I’ll be at convincing him, but I’m going to keep trying!
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You’ve all asked a lot of questions in the comments lately, so I’ll be answering those in tomorrow’s entry. If you’ve got any burning questions to ask, now’s the time!
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I haven’t yet had a chance to peruse my US Magazine this week, so I don’t know what the complete story will be, but I’ll say this: If Justin Timberlake and K. Fuckhead really and truly got together to mock Britney, I think they’re a couple of complete and utter assholes. Talk about kicking someone when they’re down – that girl is spinning out of control in the most public way possible, and they’re getting together to make fun of her? Such classy guys. I’ve always thought Kevin Federline was a weaselly little no-good user, but now I’m finding I have no fondness for Justin either. Jackasses. Note: It’s not like I’m a big Britney fan, but I’ve liked some of her music and I think she’s adorable and I cannot help but feel bad for a girl who is so clearly in a lot of emotional pain and going under for the third time. To have her first love and her soon-to-be ex-husband being PALS and getting together to talk shit about her can only be tossing kerosene on the fire.
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Hey. Did you know that if you join the National Arbor Day Foundation for $10 for 6 months or $15 for a year, you get 10 free trees? We’re getting the flowering trees.
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HATE. Smackdown at the Anderson Corral. Smackdown in progress (though it petered out when Tommy wandered off.)
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Previously 2006: HOT MONKEY SEX, that’s what. 2005: I can tell you this – I’m not terribly fond of my mailman right now. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: Not bad, since it’s been ten years or so since I read the play, eh? 2001: Resolutions for 2001. 2000: Well, apparently “coke” sounded like “coffee” to the Einstein taking my order.]]>

2/15/07

Help Save Rhys From Dying Of Boredom On The PCT!!! Y’all are readers, I know you are. What better to do with your paperbacks than pass them along to a crazy hiking woman? If you want to help, check it out!

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I am a murderer. I HAVE KILLED. BobPod, may you rest in peace. I dropped my goddamn iPod while I was at the house yesterday (a sign that the house does not appreciate Keith and the Girl, obviously), and it froze up, and it’s still frozen and nothing I try will get it unfrozen, it’s all frozen up with my KATG goodness locked inside, and I am panicked at the idea of (1) working on the house or (2) exercising without my BobPod. Why, BobPod? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY? Why have you left me, forlorn and battered, to face this dark world without you? Was it something I did? (“Yes, you stupid bitch, you DROPPED ME, and it wasn’t the first time!”) Please come back to me, BobPod. PLEEEEEEEASE! Any suggestions would be very much appreciated. I cannot spend another 10-hour day at the house without podcasts to listen to, for I will be driven mad without something to take my mind off the tedium of the cleaning and painting and painting and painting and painting some more. HELP ME.
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So I spent a total of 11 hours at the house yesterday. I got there at 7:30, hoping to get the upper half of the upstairs bathroom painted before the insulation guys arrived (not that I expected they would actually ever really show up), but I realized that I had to do something to protect the lower half of the bathroom from the paint I’d be slinging around as I painted the upper half (note to self: when painting a room two different colors, paint the upper half first next time, dummy), so I took the roll of contractor paper we bought at Lowe’s over the weekend, pulled off thick strips of it, and taped it over the lower half of the bathroom where I’d already painted, and over the freshly tiled shower. I was almost done with the bathroom when the insulation guys showed up. After I was done reeling around the house in shock that the guys had shown up, I showed them where the attic accesses were, and then went downstairs to stay out of the way. I did some painting (and I’d show you what I painted, because it’s too hard to explain, but I am a dumbass who forgot to take her camera with her OF COURSE on a day when there were many things to take pictures of, DAMNIT) and when I was done with my painting an hour later, the insulation guys had come to the conclusion that the “broken” truck was still broken (the truck itself was working, but the part that blows insulation through the big tubes was busted), and that “the boss” had another truck in the area doing other jobs and would try to get them out to the house at some point during the day. I said goodbye to the insulation guys, then went off to eat breakfast and then call my parents, who are in Florida this week, and then went upstairs to start painting the bathroom. Painting the bathroom was a humongous pain in the motherfucking ass. The lower part of the bathroom is composed of beadboard with the lines going vertically, and it wasn’t too much of a pain to paint. The upper half, however, is beadboard with the lines going horizontally, and it was a humongous pain to get the paint in the lines. I had to push really hard on the roller to get the paint to go in the lines, and once I was done doing that with the roller I had to go back over the walls with a brush and get all the spots I had missed. By lunchtime, though, I had gotten two coats of paint on the wall, and decided it looked good enough to leave for the time being. I figured once Fred had the lights installed in that room (I did the whole freakin’ paint job with just the light coming in through the window) I’d go back over the wall with a paint brush and touch up what I’d missed. I decided to hit Sonic for a salad for lunch, grabbed my purse, and headed out the front door. When I walked out the front door, I got a lovely, lovely surprise. Actually, I got a couple of lovely surprises. The first lovely surprise was that there was a fucking DRIFT of insulation across the front and side yards. Apparently what the insulation guys (part one) had done to determine that their truck wasn’t operating properly was to blow fucking insulation all over the yard, then leave without cleaning it the fuck up. I called Fred and bitched at him about it, and he told me he was going to go raise some hell. The second lovely, lovely surprise – after I talked to Fred – was that Maxi was slinking back and forth on the front porch, howling, and when I walked out the door, she excitedly led me to the rocking chair I usually sit in (when it’s not so goddamn cold), underneath which lay a dead mole. And in front of the rocking chair? A mouse head. Just the head, no other body parts. Maxi must REALLY love me, that’s all I have to say about that. Cold-blooded murderer. Just like ME. I went to Sonic, got my salad, got home, ate my salad, did a little reading (What? I don’t deserve a damn break? YES I DO.) and was about to go back upstairs to tape off the bathroom and paint the trim when Fred called to let me know that the insulation guys were on the way. I went upstairs to pull down the contractor paper I’d left taped to the wall, and was just about done with that when the tile guy showed up. I got out of his way and went downstairs to putty the holes in the shoe molding (ie, quarter-round) Fred had put down on Tuesday. I hadn’t been doing that for long when the insulation guys (part two) showed up. Apparently they hadn’t been informed by the insulation guys (part one) that there was a drift of insulation in the front yard, and they were appropriately aghast that anyone would leave something like that behind. And for the first time in my life when someone profusely apologized, I didn’t say “No, it’s okay!”, because I was rawwwwther ticked off about the whole damn thing. I did, however, graciously say “I appreciate that” when they promised they’d clean up the mess. So I was puttying more shoe molding when one of the insulation guys – I told my sister he looked like Jay from Clerks, but on second look, he really bore more of a resemblance to Tommy Lee (just the face, pervs. I didn’t get a chance – or have the desire – to inquire after further resemblance.) – asked if there was a restroom he could use. I pointed him to it, and he said “Is there tissue in there?” Oh boy. “There sure is,” I said with a smile, then beat it out of there and went to the kitchen (ie, far away from the bathroom) to text my sister that a workman was stankin’ up the joint. See, this is how nice I am. I was working in the computer room, and the bathroom is right off the computer room. I didn’t want Tommy Lee to feel all SELF-CONSCIOUS about stankin’ up my bathroom, so I went a few rooms away so as to make the experience more pleasing for him. And then when I went into the computer room and was about knocked over from the ROTTING STENCH OF A THOUSAND DEAD PEOPLE coming from the bathroom, I wanted to go get a box of matches and light them ALL, but I didn’t want to make him FEEL BAD about the stench he’d left behind, so I covered my nose with my shirt and tried my best to ignore the smell. Until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and went and got the matches, and lit about a hundred of them. (A hundred, or three. One or the other. WHATEVER.) Finally, Fred showed up and I could relax, because when he’d called to tell me that the insulation guys (part two) were on the way, he’d also told me to not pay them until they’d talked to the salesguy, who’d promised that either the guys would clean up the mess, or we’d get a discount on the service. This way, he could deal with the whole messy paying-the-guys stuff, and I could wander off and do mind-numbing tasks that desperately needed doing. Though the insulation guys did an admirable job of attempting to clean up the mess left behind by the first set of guys, they weren’t able to really clean it all up (I think they would have needed some sort of vacuum for that), and so Fred gave the salesguy a call and let him know how very unhappy he was with the whole experience. Fred, who is a genius, has learned that if you express your displeasure with a service, and then keep silent while the man in charge babbles nervously, in the end they’ll generally offer something you want. In this case, we got a 25% discount on the cost of the insulation installation. Happy Valentine’s Day to me!!! Once the insulation guys left, we put up the crown molding in the downstairs bathroom, then Fred went around and measured and cut shoe molding for the front room and kitchen. We ate dinner in there somewhere, and finally left around 6:30. I am NOT going out to the house today, but do have to run Joe Bob to the vet because he’s still straining to pee (though I don’t think he’s blocked, because he’s not distressed, plus he’s actually peeing a tiny bit every time he tries) and after five days of being on Clavam0x and the special food, he should be doing better. I’m dropping him off at the vet for observation and so they can figure out what the hell is going on, and will get him back tomorrow evening.
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It’s pretty much looking like we’re very close to being done with the renovations, and will be moving me and the cats out to Smallville the first weekend in March, or thereabouts. Can you believe it? FINALLY.
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My Valentine’s Day was… well, it was pretty much like any other day, because we don’t really go all out for the occasion. I picked up a card and some Dove chocolates for him (dark chocolate, because he loves dark chocolate and I hate it and thus won’t eat it). He gave me a card and a single-serving bag of peanut M&Ms (I ate a few and tossed the rest). Maybe next year we’ll go out to eat or have a date night for Valentine’s Day, but I kinda doubt it – and I’m okay with that. He spoils me rotten 365.25 days a year; I don’t need to be extra spoiled on this particular day.
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Warning: Cat cannot hold his licker. (Several more Booger pics, here)
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Previously 2006: I suspect the latter, personally. Fuckers. 2005: Collab 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: William Fichtner is a hottie. 2001: I hope I’m not doing serious damage to myself, but if you saw how clean the showers get, you’d know how much it’s worth it. 2000: I highly recommend a warm, purring kitten laying against you when you’re feeling nauseous.]]>

2/14/07

* * * What I love about this whole house-renovating experience is how Fred and I, despite being beaten over the head with evidence to the contrary, are stupidly, naively trusting that workmen will show up when they say they will. Needless to say (though I will, of course SAY IT), the insulation guys never showed up yesterday morning. I got to the house at 7:45 and stood there looking out at the rain thinking “Jesus GOD IN HEAVEN all I want to do is go back to bed!” I called Fred and told him I didn’t know what I wanted to do while I was waiting for the insulation guys to show up, and he presented me with several thousand things that needed to be done, none of which I WANTED to do, and I hemmed and hawed and thought about just sitting on my ass reading while waiting for the guys to show up. In the end, I started prepping the upstairs bathroom to be painted. Said prepping included: removing screws and nails from the wall, removing the coves and quarter-round from the bottom trim, removing outlet and switch plates, taking down the shower rod, taking down the mini blinds, and last (but certainly not least) ripping the coves from around the ceiling. This last was the hardest part of the whole job, and I wasn’t terribly thrilled to find myself teetering on a ladder that was propped half in the tub and half on the floor, using a pry bar, screwdriver, and hammer to pull down this fucking trim that had six-foot nails every inch and a half the entire way around the GODDAMN ROOM. I took a picture of the trim I ripped down, along with the nails sticking out, but the picture didn’t do it justice, and I deleted it in a fit of pique. I was just trying to figure out how to take down the medicine cabinet (and kind of excited about doing so, because it’s the original medicine cabinet from the 50s, and it has one of those slits in the back where men would put their straight razors when they were used up because apparently throwing razors in a wall to rust and be found by people in 50 years who are klutzes and will slice the holy shit out of their arms and die in a bloody puddle on an ugly linoleum floor was considered A Good Idea and More Convenient Than Hauling Ones Ass to the Trash Can, and I wanted to see how many razors were there. DON’T JUDGE ME.) when I heard a door slam in the driveway, and looked out to see the tile guy walking toward the house. Did I mention that we’ve got a tile guy doing the tiling around the showers? The more Fred read up on tiling, the more worried he got that he might mess it up, so he had several people come out to the house to give estimates, and ended up going with the guy who was (1) cheapest (2) least likely to blow smoke up our asses (3) with good references and (4) a good attitude and a willingness to start work soonish. I won’t share a picture with you just yet, but I really like the job the tile guy is doing and the tile Fred picked out. Anyway, the tile guy showed up to work on the upstairs bathroom, and so I stopped doing anything in there so I wouldn’t be in his way. He endeared himself to me – once he heard I was clearing stuff out of the bathroom – by offering to disconnect the toilet for me. And not only did he disconnect the toilet, he brought it downstairs and put it on the porch for me. I should have asked him to be my valentine, no? While he worked, I ended up doing a lot of small things, like taking nails out of the trim I’d removed from the bathroom so it can all go on the burn pile and… well, fuck if I can even remember what the hell I spent the rest of the morning doing. I painted chair rail and quarter-round and crown moulding, I know that. I couldn’t turn off the power to replace plugs and switches because it was too dark out, and the tile guy needed light to see what he was doing. After the tile guy left I went upstairs, admired his tiling job, and tried to remove the medicine cabinet. I had no luck with that, because there’s a wire running through the medicine cabinet to the lights on either side, and so I left the medicine cabinet in place and finished removing screws from the wall. Then I did what I really didn’t want to do, and that is paint with a paint roller. New things scare me, so I’d been avoiding painting with the roller and only painted with a brush, since brush painting is how you (I) paint trim, and trim is mostly what I’d been spending all my time painting. The painting with a roller thing ended up not being too terribly difficult, and I got the lower half of the upstairs bathroom painted before Fred arrived in Smallville. In fact, I got a second coat of paint done before we left for the evening. And today? What are my plans for today, you might ask? Well, lovely readers, I get to haul my ass out to Smallville again to meet the GODDAMN insulation guys who will “definitely” show up today and didn’t show up yesterday because their “truck broke down”, according to the guy Fred spoke to who was “just about to call” Fred at 9:30 yesterday morning. Hopefully I’ll get there early enough to get an initial coat of paint put on the upper half of the upstairs bathroom before the insulation guys arrive (or should I say “arrive”, since I’m not sure they even truly exist as more than a figment of the imagination of the “salesman” who keeps assuring Fred they’ll be there “on time”), then I need to do touchup painting on the quarter-rounds Fred nailed down yesterday, and then I’ll put a second coat of paint on the upper half of the bathroom, do the trim around the bottom of the bathroom, paint some more quarter-round and crown molding, and if I’m feeling froggy I JUST MIGHT GODDAMN START PAINTING MY GODDAMN BEDROOM CLOSET. I can hardly breathe from the sheer goddamn excitement of it all.

* * *
This is a small cove in the upstairs bathroom where we’ll either put some sort of storage furniture, or Fred will build shelves, or something. I was removing chair rail from the wall, when I saw the gap on the right side of the picture. I peered through it, wondering if there was anything back there, and the thought “What if I saw two eyes peering back at me?” came to my mind, and I got so creeped out that I had to go call Fred to talk me down from the ledge. I’m replacing all the floor heat/ air registers with new ones that look like these. I thought these, at more than $10 apiece, were expensive until I looked online and found that you could buy heat/ air registers for upwards of $100. ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR A DECORATIVE PIECE OF METAL YOU PUT IN THE FLOOR. No thanks! I sure do love Chickadees.
* * *
Naturally, I’ve been blaming Joe Bob for the near death of my chewed-upon plant, only to find out that Tommy’s the culprit. Or one of the culprits, anyway.
* * *
Previously 2006: “Stop following me,” Sugarbutt said. “Or I shall call the gendarmes and they shall kick your ass all the way back to Paree.” 2005: “I wasn’t worried,” Fred said to me. “Because any party where the invitation suggests bringing Dance Dance Revolution pads is not one that’s going to get out of hand.” 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: Be our valentine, bitch! 2001: Could this get any more exciting, talking about the weather? 2000: Is it wrong that hearing about that incident gives me a whole new respect for Maria?]]>

2/13/07

this entry the other day, and laughed so hard I cried. I can guarantee you that these days, Fred REALLY wishes I’d politely excuse myself and go into another room to pass gas. Damn those carbs!

* * *
I watched Lady in the Water the other day, and I have to say – I know a lot of people thought it sucked, but I didn’t really think it was bad at all. Of course, I should add that I was cross-stitching while I was watching it and I’ll put up with a lot from a movie when I’m distracted by cross-stitching that I wouldn’t put up with if I was just sitting there watching it, so take my “not bad” with a grain of salt.
* * *
I “discovered” Pacer via Michelle (who is back posting regularly, yay!) last week, and I have been reading the archives ever since, one or two posts at a time. Currently, I’m in late 2005. I can only imagine what THAT Sitemeter stat looks like, since I’ve had a page open to her site for close to a week and have read 70bazillion posts. Not that I needed another damn blog to read, but this one is so funny and addictive that I have no choice but to start reading it, too. I am helpless in the face of funniness and cat pictures (does this picture of Rocky remind you a tad of this picture of former foster kitten Jack Frost, or is it just me?) (Also, AMEN to this entry, especially this line: Sure, a person might molest a child or dance on a table after drinking, but it’s because an inclination toward those behaviors were inside that person already.) (Also, I think this is my favorite dog and cat picture EVER, down at the bottom of the post) . Besides, maybe if I send enough traffic her way, she’ll send me some yummy cookies or toffee. A girl can dream!
* * *
You who searched on “100 Things” in a site search (don’t feel all weird, I don’t know who did the search, it’s completely anonymous, I’m not going to come knock on your door or anything. OR AM I?), I have never done the 100 things list, solely because the idea of coming up with 100 even slightly interesting factoids about myself makes me want to go take a nap. Unless you were looking for the “100 Things to do before I’m (insert age here)” list. Which I have also never done, because the only thing such a list would ensure is that I wouldn’t do a single of those 100 things, because the very existence of the list would make me feel very put-upon, and I’d be all “Fuck you, you stupid list! I’m not gonna do ANY OF THOSE!” I bet I could come up with a list of 100 things people think I should be doing before I’m (insert age here). Or 100 things I’d never do. Or something. I need a nap.
* * *
Received recently from readers: (Thanks, Kara!) (Thanks, Sandy!) My readers RAWK.
* * *
Over the weekend, I did a lot of painting. Upon looking closely at the trim in most of the rooms, I determined that most of the trim in the entire house could use at least one more good coat of paint. So after I put the first coat of paint on the trim in the downstairs bathroom, I taped around the windows in the master bedroom, took down the old blinds, and slapped on a couple of coats of paint before we left for the day. I also put a second coat on the trim in the bathroom, and stood out in the garage in freezing-ass temperatures and put a coat of paint on the quarter-round Fred will be installing over the next few days. Considering how much I hate painting, I’m certainly taking it upon myself to do a lot more than strictly NEEDS to be done. Actually, what I’d like to do is strip the trim around every single doorway in this house down to the wood and repaint them. But there’s just no way I could do that with chemicals without fucking up the floor, and to sand down to the wood on all that trim would make a huge mess. I am going to strip the hell out of all the doors in the house, though, once I’m moved in. I AM. I swear I am. One at a time, in the workshed, I’ll strip them, repaint them, and replace the hardware (which isn’t original to the house, so don’t be telling me I should be keeping it). I will. Really I will! I WILL. Shut up.
* * *
This entry would be longer, but I have to meet the insulation guys at the Smallville house at 8, and since I have to go out there anyway, I might as well just stay out there and get some painting and some plug-switching and switch-switching done (pictures are taken for the “how-to-switch-out-a-switch/ plug” posts, but I have to actually go through the pictures and put them in order, so maybe later this week). So off I go – y’all have a good day.
* * *
Upon waking from a nap, Sugarbutt likes to sit around with one eye closed. He doesn’t seem to have any problems with that eye, just likes to sit with it closed for a few minutes. We call him Popeye when he does this. Photographic evidence that Sugarbutt was the victim of a horrifying drive-by licking. Thomas J. Cullen is currently serving hard time for that crime.
* * *
Previously 2006: Mystery solved. Just call me Nancy Drew. 2005: No entry. 2004: Molasses runs in her veins, I swear to god. 2003: No entry. 2002: My life? Complete again. 2001: Do I want to go sit through an eternal PTA meeting, listen to endless amounts of people babble endlessly? Um, no. 2000: No entry. ]]>

2/6/07

* * * We totally slacked this weekend. We left early Saturday and way early Sunday, and I don’t even feel guilty about it. Fred is eating, breathing, and dreaming chickens lately, so Sunday we left to visit the Dog Days flea market in Ardmore, ’cause he was hoping to find someone selling chickens (it was too damn cold out, though, and the flea market was deserted with hardly any vendors in sight). But before we went to Ardmore we stopped at Tractor Supply, dropped by Lowe’s for many different things, and then went to K-Mart so I could look at the curtains. We’d checked out the curtain selection at Lowe’s and to my chagrin I kind of fell in love with this curtain for the kitchen, (DON’T JUDGE ME) but I felt that since the kitchen is yellow and cream, the red-and-white checks of that curtain wouldn’t really go. (I’m willing to be convinced otherwise, y’all. But you’ve got to really CONVINCE me.) I spent a couple of hours looking at curtains on Amazon and while I like this sort of simple valance, I don’t want bright white curtains through the house because they bore me. Maybe in one or two rooms, but that’s all I’m willing to live with. And on the other hand, I don’t want anything fancy, because I prefer simple straight-across valances (except for the spud’s room, where I’m going to put long, heavy curtains so she can block out the sun and sleep 21 hours a day without being awakened by pesky things like daylight), and ugh. I just don’t know. Suggestions are welcome!

* * *
In the mail last week I got the proofs from the spud’s cap-and-gown pictures. They came out well, but instead of ordering pictures for everyone like I did with her senior pictures, I’m going to order an 8×10 to hang with her senior picture, and if anyone else wants one, they can order their own. Not that anyone but me and her father are going to be interested in getting one, I’m sure – cap and gown pictures are mostly taken for the parents of the graduating senior, I think. They’re as ridiculously expensive as the senior pictures were – $25 for a 5×7 is highway robbery. I’m paying $40 for a 8×10, though. ::sigh:: Goddamn ridiculous, I tell ya!
* * *
I did take the pictures to do an entry about how to switch out plugs, but need to take a couple more, so be on the lookout for that later this week. I may even wait until Saturday, so I can make it its own entry and not feel like a slacker. Or maybe I WILL be a slacker and just make that an entry on its own on Thursday or Friday. Can you stand the excitement? Actually, Sunday morning I switched out the plug on the wall behind where the fridge goes, and then went to vacuum off the door I’d sanded down a little (I swore to Fred that the instant I’m moved into the Smallville house, I’m going to start stripping every damn door in the house, down to the wood, and then repainting every damn one of them, one by one. AND I WILL. That’s what that workshop is for, y’know.), only the vacuum – plugged into one of the plugs in the dining room I’d replaced – wouldn’t turn on. Because the plug wasn’t working. And after some investigation I determined that several of the plugs in the computer room and dining room weren’t working, and I swore up a storm, turned off the power, and unscrewed the screws to one of the plugs that wasn’t working, double-checked everything… and the goddamn thing still wouldn’t work. Fred took a look at it, looked at a few other things, and then I don’t know what the holy hell he did, because I was MIGHTY FUCKING COLD, so I demanded his keys, grabbed my bottle of water, cell phone, and book, and went out to his car where I cranked up the heat (his car has seatwarmers, which we fondly refer to as “ass” – ie, “Give me some ass”, “Would you like some ass?”, “Ass! I need ass!”, “GODDAMN it’s cold, hit that ass!”, etc ad infinitum) and read until he came out, told me to move over, and drove to the corner store to find someone who had a clue about electricity and that sort of shit. I hung around the house doing random things – cleaned the kitchen, put stuff away – until I got cold and went back out to Fred’s car to warm up. After about ten minutes of sitting in a car that was blasting heat and warming my ass I decreed myself warm enough for the moment, and went back into the house. “He got it fixed,” Fred told me. “He said it was your fault!” The guy, standing in the computer room, gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look and started to protest. “I’m just kidding!” Fred told him. “She knows I’m kidding.” Later, I said “I guess he and his wife don’t kid around like we do, huh?” Apparently there were a couple of plugs I’d changed out where I hadn’t pushed the wires in far enough. Given that I’ve still got the front room, the hallway, the master bedroom and all the bathrooms left to do, I’ll be sure I do it right from here on out.
* * *
“Hey. Does this taste funny to you?”
* * *
Previously 2006: I’ve been watching a lot of TV lately. 2005: No entry. 2004: And then Fictional Woman and Fictional Child share an Isn’t he DISGUSTING? look, and bid each other goodnight. 2003: Taking a nap looks like a good idea. 2002: I decide who’s King Shit of Turd Mountain, y’all, and don’t forget it. 2001: Everyone enjoys a good fart story! 2000: No entry.]]>

2/5/07

thought the free Hellcat with every case of water promotion at Sam’s was over, but apparently they’ve extended it. Now I’m torn. I need to get me some bottled water, but our house limit on wearing-out-her-welcome Hellcats (ie, MYRTLE) is at a maximum right now. Actually, if you consider that Miz Poo and Mister Boogers are approximately 48 – 53% Hellcat* depending on the day of the month and how many other cats are in residence, we’re over our limit. *Mister Booger’s Momma was 100% Hellcat, but luckily his father was half Ass-Showing-Fuckhead and half Sweet-Love-Monkey. Miz Poo’s mother was Crazy-Ass Tortie with a taste for the bad boys, thus her fling with a boycat who was mostly Hellcat, with a bit of the unknown tossed in there; I don’t know if he was a bit brain damaged or just flat out bugshit, but when the moon is full, you can see her Daddy’s influence as she races from one end of the house to the other, stopping along the way to smack the shit out of the boys.

* * *
Standing in the kitchen of the Smallville house, filling up a sink of water to which I’d just added a big glug of ammonia so I could wipe down the counters, I paused. God. That sounds just like a herd of elephants, I thought. Though I was listening to a Grey’s Anatomy podcast, I could clearly hear the thundering sound approaching the kitchen. I switched off the water and turned toward the sound. Fred appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, wild-eyed and frantic. The front of his sweatshirt and his jeans were soaking wet. “MOVE!” he bellowed at me, and I wheeled backward, watching him run past me. My god! I thought. Something’s happened to Maxi or Newt! What if one of them have been hit by a car?! Why would he be running for the back door instead of the front?! Fred fumbled with the lock on the back door, half-turning toward me as I pulled the earphones from my head. “I don’t know why I said ‘Move’,” he said. “You weren’t even in the way!” He flung the door open and ran down the steps. My god! I thought, as I realized the thundering sound was continuing. He SAID ‘Move!’, but clearly Crackhead Bob broke into the house and is chasing him! Obviously what he meant was ‘RUN!’ I ran several big, goony running steps to the back door in time to see Fred reach the bottom of the steps. As I watched, he ran to the right, leaning into the curve in a motion we call a “Tubby Run.”
The Tubby Run: Years ago when Tubby was still alive, he was hanging out in the kitchen and somehow got the wrapper to a popsicle stuck to his tail. It freaked him the hell out, and he ran into the living room and did an end-run around the couch, where he leaned into the run, and it was about the funniest thing we’ve ever seen a cat do. To this day just thinking about it makes me laugh ’til I cry.
“What’s going ON?!” I said, though he was too far away to hear me. I threw my hands up in the air. “What the HELL?” The thundering sound continued. It sounded like… well, it sounded like a waterfall and THAT was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? Except that it was coming from the bathroom. And he’d been working on replacing the faucet and handles in the tub. I did another goony half-run to the hallway and saw water spraying out of the bathroom. As I watched, the flow of water stopped. I ran to the cabinet where we keep the cleaning rags – a huge pile of them – grabbed them all, and went to the hallway, where I threw them all down on the lake of water heading for the bottom of the stairs. “How bad is it?” Fred asked as he came through the back door. “You need to go somewhere and get more towels, because we don’t have enough to get all this water up!” I said, panicked at the thought that we’d paid thousands of dollars to have the floors redone, and they were on the verge of ruin. Then I caught sight of Fred’s face, remembered his Tubby Run to the water shutoff valve, and started laughing so hard I couldn’t say anything else. (We got the water cleaned up pretty quickly, from the floor where it was pooled, and the walls of the bathroom and the wall outside the bathroom, with no damage to the floors that we can tell. Thank god I’d recently stocked up on paper towels!)
* * *
Note to the concerned: We saw Maxi briefly on Saturday, so apparently she’s okay. I saw her sitting at the edge of the yard belonging to the people she officially belongs to, and told Fred she was out there. Fred went to the back door and called for her. In fits and starts she crossed our neighbor’s back yard, glancing cautiously toward the front yard, and finally approached Fred. Fred snatched her up, hugged and kissed and petted her, and brought her into the house for a few minutes. She didn’t want to stay in the house long, so I let her out the front door, where she ate a little food and then disappeared again. Later, I saw a couple of Mockingbirds hanging out in the front yard, eyeing the dish of cat food. I remembered how skittish Newt was earlier this week, and now I’m wondering if the fucking Mockingbirds have been dive-bombing the cats and eating their food. I love Mockingbirds because they’re sassy, but if they’re harassing the cats, I’ll kick their little feathered asses.
* * *
Fred put up a bunch of floor pictures over on his site. Check ’em out!
* * *
“Pardon me, but is it about time for the snackin’?” ::the sound of a porky cat hustling through the house as fast as his little paws can carry him:: “Did someone say ‘snackin’ time’?”
* * *
Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: I DON’T KNOW YOU, I CAN’T CHAT WITH YOU, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE. 2003: Pictures found. 2002: That’s just the kind of sucky slacking emailer I am. 2001: You know, if I had ANY self-control at all, I’d wait to buy these books ’til they come out in paperback. 2000: No entry.]]>

2/2/07

* * * I finished reading Death Match by Lincoln Child last night. Altogether it was a good book, though there were things I found unbelievable about it (when I say that I find something in a book or movie unbelievable, Fred always says, pointedly, “Willing suspension of disbelief.”). The thing is that Lincoln Child is a computer geek and as I’ve discovered through ten years of living with a computer geek – if I may generalize about all computer geeks – is that they really like to overexplain the fucking shit out of everything. Whether you understand it or not. So there was a lot of technical-type babble in the last fifteen or twenty pages of Death Match, and I read it as “Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah”, but really and truly don’t feel like I missed a single thing. Overall I liked the book (even though I think it’s complete and utter bullshit that a company like Eden could do what it did in the book), but be warned that the protagonist is a pompous pain in the ass.

* * *
We went out to Smallville last night to pay the floor guy and look at the floors, and we LOVE them. They came out really, really nice, and I think we did a good job of choosing the color. The floor guy was the most conscientious worker we’ve ever dealt with – always checking in with Fred to let him know what had been done, and the job took about as long as he thought it would. And we love the results! If you’re in the area and need the name of a good floor guy, ask and I’ll happily give you his name and number.
* * *
Fred is seriously talking about buying and flipping a house in Smallville (he has a particular house in mind, not just some random house) when we’ve sold the Madison house. I haven’t determined whether the idea fills me with excitement, or dread. We’ll see.
* * *
Self-portrait #24. This is how I feel when I realize I need to take another goddamn picture of myself. I think this little project is coming to an end, because I am SICK of looking at pictures of myself. I’ll still take the occasional picture and post it – I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I’m willing to jump in front of the camera at any time – or maybe I’ll make it a weekly thing. We’ll see.
* * *
Apparently he likes to sit around with his foot hiked up over his head, and watch the other cats play. Don’t ask me what that’s all about.
* * *
Previously 2006: So, that’s the state of things with me. 2005: “Oh my god!” he said. “There’s a dead mole under here!” 2004: The man thinks that “hot” and “good-looking” are the same thing! 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: We all know I’m lazy, but this is ridiculous.]]>