| A Choose Your Own Adventure in Bedroom Decor Story |
Long long ago, in a faraway place known as Karla’s head, she had this brilliant idea to decorate her bedroom with fabrics and a bazillion throw pillows that were absolutely, not even remotely, pet or kid friendly. And the upkeep was horrendous, because who has time to make their bed, let alone position throw cushions?
After welcoming a cute as a bug’s ear six pound glutton of snuggles puppy into her home, which later became a goliath-sized plunderer of pillows/cow, and then welcoming an ever cuter six pound maker of poop, which later became a maker of even more poop AND a drinker from leaky sippy cups, Karla has essentially given up on the idea of swanky, and decided it was time to give her bedroom a much needed functional makeover lest she go crazy from the never ending spillage of milk and wiping of boggers from dry clean only bedding.
What exactly WAS she thinking buying bedding that was not easily washable anyways? If you ever figure this out, please let her know.
After searching high and low for some cheap bedding that had not started to fray while still sitting on the store shelf, she finally found something in the shade of dirty dog masking chocolate brown. And sheets that are not black, because again, what WAS she thinking buying all black sheets? She lives in a zoo house for crying out loud, where her light coloured pets enjoy shedding every last piece of fur on their body onto her bed everyday. And then, miracle of miracles, while the house is still and everyone sleeps, her pets regrow all of their fur, at which point they immediately return to the bed and repeat the entire full-body fur shedding process.
So now, because Karla is obviously not good with making sound decorating decisions on her own, she is seeking your advice about possible curtain colours and shades of paint. She tried to seek council from her husband, but this was a totally useless endeavour because a) he is colour-blind and b) he cares very little about curtains. Like, as if!
Because Karla is good at spending money, she feels like it is her duty to choose a curtain colour that not only coordinates, but also camouflages potential random food particles from the tugging fingers of a small child, if for no other reason than the fact that Samson destroyed her old curtains, and she believes it is common courtesy not to flash her naked bits in front of distraught neighbours.
But now she is left wondering; would brown curtains be too matchy-matchy? And would beige walls be too beige?
The one thing she does know, is that the art must stay. She loves it, and so too, does her husband, because that is about as much womanly nakedness the man gets to see after Karla puts on her snow suit to go to bed because she is a freeze cat.
Your superb insight on coordinating curtain and paint colours with the new bedding so that Mark and Karla can live happily ever after in a bedroom full of animal fur and unreliable sippy cups would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you.
The End.Labels: Home Improvement |
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| Dishwasher Ordeal |
My shiny new dishwasher arrived several weeks ago, but since making it work requires playing with both electricity and water, a hazardous combination for those who are apparatus-challenged, neither Mark nor I were capable of installing it. Instead, we asked my Father-in-Law to help.
Mark’s father is a selfless Saint. At the drop of a hat, he will make the two hour drive to our house if we ask him to. It doesn’t matter what it’s for. If we need him for something, anything, he will be here.
The man is also brilliant. And not just brilliant when it comes to using a hammer and power tools, I mean really really brilliant. Like, he could build a satellite capable of blasting off into outer space to orbit Jupiter, just for the fun of it, while simultaneously teaching us about investing and prolonging the lifespan of a lawn mower.
Unfortunately, his worldly brilliance does not transcend the hurdle of installing a dishwasher with missing parts.
We bought our dishwasher from Sears and they were very accommodating about the faulty delivery and offered to send another new dishwasher along with someone to install it for us.
As wonderful as that sounds, that meant that I had to hand wash dishes until the second dishwasher arrived. Drastic times called for drastic measures and for the past week, Mark has been on strict orders to ration his dishes. No more having a glass of water and putting his cup down and two seconds later having another drink of water out of a new cup and then five minutes later using yet another cup for another swig of water. By my calculations, I can save washing about 18 cups a day if he reused his water glasses.
Feeling thirsty this morning, I noticed a glass on the counter in the spot where Mark usually leaves his water glass after he takes his vitamins. Figuring that because there was just water in the cup and that there is absolutely nothing wrong with extending our dish rationing to include a community cup, I grabbed his water glass, filled it with water and took a nice big swig only to discover that he hadn’t used that cup for water. He had used it for milk the night before. And there, at the bottom of the glass, and now in my stomach, were rotting milk curds.
This morning, a guy came to install the second dishwasher, and wouldn’t you know it, when he opened the box, the same parts were missing.
I am beginning to understand why this dishwasher was such a great price; no one has bothered to actually put it together.
At this point, I’m beginning to wonder if my dishwashing options would be better served from a dishwasher of the rock-hard abs and a toga wearing variety.Labels: Home Improvement, Soapbox |
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| When Machines Take Over |
You know that saying, when it rains, it pours?
I swear it doesn’t matter what is going on in your life, when times are quiet, they are quiet. And during times when things start to fall apart, all of your appliances decide to crumble and die at the same time.
First it was our vacuum. Then it was our oven and stove. And for the sake of consistency, our dishwasher and garage door opener jumped on the machine death bandwagon and are all dead now, too.
That being said, our oven is very old. I’m quite certain that it’s powered off gunpowder and steam. And since I am flat out of gunpowder, I have no idea how to make it work anymore.
Our dishwasher is also very old. So old in fact, that if I had to hazard a guess, I would bet that it has been around since before the dawn of civilization. And although this creates a paradox around why the dishwasher came before the humans, I wouldn’t put it past the dinosaurs that they were just as lazy as I am. Especially considering the clean up involved after ripping the limbs off your prey for dinner. That’s hardcore. I bet that’s when Bleach was invented, too.
Basically, our dishwasher is nothing more than a glorified food washing machine because it can take up to three cycle runs to clean the dishes inside of it. And if it wasn’t for Samson poking his great big giant dog head inside of its ancient racks and licking remnant food morsels off the plates, I bet it would take four or more runs to get our dishes clean.
We do not live in a lavish home. Nor a grand one. It is small and modest and it keeps us dry and warm, but for the love of modern day amenities, I am trying to remember what life was like before a machine washed my dishes for me.
It all must have been very traumatic because try as I may and try as I might, those memories have been permanently erased from my mind.
The only logical conclusion to be drawn here is that the machines have infiltrated the region of my brain where impulses to be lazy are transmitted. Until I can figure out how to bypass these uncontrollable urges to be lazy, my new appliances; particularly my shiny new dishwasher, arrive Monday.Labels: Home Improvement |
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| A Very Nipply Winter's Silence |
We finally got around to painting our kitchen last weekend.
Again.
I should probably stop living with my head inside of a paint can. I also probably need therapy, but at least I’m a good painter. Actually, make that a good paint supervisor because Mark is the one who actually does all of the rolling. I had the very fatiguing tasks of running errands for missing supplies and lifting my exhausted fingers to wipe the sweat off of Mark’s brow.
I also may have strained my neck trying to check out the pecs of a shirtless hunky adonis while I was out on a coffee run.
But we did it. The paint job I mean.
And now my entire main floor is painted in colours that sound like Mother Nature sneezed and wiped my walls with a tissue full of Autumn Haze and Winter’s Silence.
Paint colour names is the one thing about painting that Mark and I do not see eye to eye on. I like the girly names because they sound dramatic and impressive. He thinks they sound too girly and lame and should instead be given number codes, like green 4569, because going to the store and asking for a can of Winter’s Silence is no different than walking up to the person behind the counter and asking them to rub his nipples.
Labels: Comic Relief, Home Improvement, Mark |
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| New Shade of Boring |
We are done painting. Well, except for the part about starting off with great intentions of painting the entire main floor of the house and then becoming very bored with the whole process about 7 minutes into taping so we never actually got around to painting the kitchen. I’m hoping that whatever it was that sparked the fire under my butt to paint in the first place returns very soon so I can stop complaining about how tired I am with the colour in there and just be done with this whole project.
 I tend to prefer dark and bold colours, but we don't get alot of light in this room so I wanted something a little lighter to brighten it up. This was taken mid-afternoon.
 And this is how it looks in the morning light.
 And this is how Mark looks with a big ball of tape on his head.
We originally were going to coincide our painting with the installation of new hardwood floors, but my Father-in-Law sort of talked us out of that idea because our carpets are relatively new and still look like they are in pretty good shape and also, we have an amply-clawed dog that is keen on running at mach speed in concentric circles inside the house. But after reading about Amalah and the heebie jeebies she found in her carpet with a black light, I’m seriously thinking we need to re-evaluate the hardwood idea because there is a certain someone in this house who likes to shove stuff in his mouth and is co-existing with our very own carpet beasties. 
Labels: All in the Family, Baby Nate, Home Improvement |
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| Oh No They Didn’t |
Last April we renovated our main bathroom and because I have zero confidence when it came to making sure I didn't accidentally grout my cat to the floor or slip down the hole where a toilet once lived, we hired a professional to help get the job done.
Fast forward almost a year to last weekend. I was happily doing my morning thing in our almost shiny new bathroom while Mark was sitting on the sofa downstairs with Nathan. Soon after flushing the toilet, I heard some really distressed shouts coming from downstairs that consisted of the use of several profanities, including many that began with an F, ended with a K, and have the letters U and C in between.
Rushing down to see what the problem was, there I discovered Mark, in the middle of the living room floor, on top of a step ladder with a finger poking threw our ceiling. And then it became blatantly obvious that there was a giant bulge in the ceiling above his head, and I am not being sarcastic when I say it looks like Satan is trying to exercise demons straight out of hell via our crapper because the ceiling under our toilet is that droopy and swollen.
And so, we did what we always do when our home falls apart, and called my Father-in-Law. That man is my hero and he dropped everything he was doing, right then and there, and drove two hours to our home to come and check out the problem. He is like that, so selfless and eager to help, and his thank you of choice is a jar of those huge mother Costco pickles because they taste nice with a sandwich.
So while we were waiting for him to arrive, we called the company with the big orange sign that installed our tiles and our toilet, which are still under warranty, and asked what we should do. We had established it was definitely the toilet that was leaking, but whether or not it was due to a faulty install or a leaky pipe somewhere else along the plumbing line was still to be determined. Because they couldn’t send anyone out to check things out until Monday (today), they made a note on our file and advised us to proceed with removing the toilet to try and identify the source of the leak, with confirmation that doing so would not void the warranty.
And so, that is what we did. And, guess what? The thing that you use to do the thing that you need to do to make sure toilets don’t leak wasn’t installed properly. The part is obviously dirty with, well, dirty toilet residue from water seeping out around the edges. We poured gallons of water down the pipe that the toilet sits on top of, and nothing leaked, but around the perimeter of the hole is all rotten and gross and that is where the leak came from, and dripped for almost an entire year on top of our now bulging living room ceiling that now also has a big gaping cavity where the toilet gremlins can escape.
Of course, when we brought the part to the company with the big orange sign to show them, all of a sudden they became defensive and snarky. I’ve had better conversations with a wall, so Mark just pointed to huge sign that says “Installations You Can Trust” and said he was holding them to that. And that is what we are going to do.
Functionally lovely, no?
 Labels: All in the Family, Home Improvement |
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| Rocks are Heavy |
I feel compelled to share a recent bout of my “perfectionism/receipt keeping issues”. We are in the middle of a mini bathroom renovation. The tile installers are here now, diligently grouting up my bathroom floor and ridding me of the linoleum monstrosity that, if I didn’t know our house was only 22 years old, would have sworn was circa 1960. It’s old and gross.
And our sink. Icky would be the first word that comes to mind, but maybe appalling is a better word to describe the lacerated state of cracks and ancientness of it. At least the new one is sleek and sexy, although I think my husband and his father are both cultivating some nasty hernias after carrying a granite counter top unit up a flight of stairs. Having a diploma in both Mineral Engineering and Geology, you would think I realized how motherfucking heavy rocks are.
However, seeing that I am at that point in my cycle where I am waiting to find out if I am pregnant (my whole life officially revolves around my cycle again), I get to (conveniently) avoid carrying anything heavy and stinky paint fumes. In an effort not to break a nail or possibly harm a fetus, I just get to “accessorize”.
And so the story goes, I have embarked on my quest to find the “perfect” stuff, beginning with a toothbrush holder. Would you believe that, mother of all absurdities, I have racked up a $214 credit card bill on multiple soap pumps and toothbrush holders.
What the hell? I mean, we’ve started discussions about adopting a baby from China to the tune of $35,000 because I’m about to fall apart with all of these babies dying on me, and I’m in a tizzy about a toothbrush holder.
At least I have my receipts to reclaim some degree of sanity that obviously has been lost in my quest for perfectionism.Labels: Home Improvement, It's All About Me |
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| Rise to Fame |
I have often wondered what it would be like to be famous. What would it be like to have people immediately recognize me when I entered a room full of strangers? How would I react if I saw a twinkle of familiarity in someone’s eye as they watched me pass on by, or if I received a friendly wink of recognition or even a warm hearty wave from a stranger expressing their hellos?
As of late, I have had my fare share of fame and recognition from some adoring fans. They smile and wave as they flock to me wondering how they can be of assistance. Ahh yes, there is nothing quite like the selfish, egotistical and self righteous rise to fame.
Not too worry. I have not let this recent increase in notoriety go to my head. I’m quite aware that the circumstances underlying my recent bout of celebutante style fame are somewhat peculiar and out of the ordinary. In fact, many would attribute my rise to stardom as pure luck or complete lack of organization skills, but hey, in this line of work, everyone is a critic.
That being said, I think it is important to publicly address and thank my adoring fans for all of their help and support over the past few weeks.
Ahem…
To all the employees at The Home Depot, thank you. Thank you for helping me understand that I can do it, and that you can help! I couldn’t have gotten to where I am today without you.
I know I must look like a crazed fool bumbling around the store with my ragged bed head, tattered paint covered clothes and scary makeup less face, but that is the price you pay for stardom I suppose. The more harried and distraught you look the more eager the lovely people at The Home Depot are to figure out how to help.
It’s like I have found a home away from home. Often times, I find myself there several times a day to relish in my new found fame and recognition. I could make just one trip and not two when venturing out to buy the extra painters tape and paint tray I need, but no, I prefer to go twice, not because I am completely unorganized and a total rookie at home reno stuff and really have no clue what I am doing, but because I like to wave at all the friendly people. Even the breast gawker and I have come to terms with each other and exchange friendly waves when we pass each other.
You may question the credibility of my new found fame. Some wonder whether or not I should be embarrassed that the guy in the baseboard aisle, the guy in the hardwood floor aisle, the kitchen counter top girl, the five paint staff and the bathroom aisle guy all recognize me. You may even wonder if the friendly people at The Home Depot think I am retarded and kinda freaky for visiting the store so frequently.
There is so much to ponder when it comes to figuring out why some of us are famous, and in the few moments of clarity I get when the paint fumes clear at the air at the end of the day, I begin to question my sanity too. However, when the sun rises the next morning, and paint fumes begin to penetrate the air and my nostrils once again, I take a deep breath to acknowledge and accept that I am unemployed and then make the most of my day by terrorizing my home. Of course, the overwhelming urge to return to the Home Depot eventually sets it, not because I am unorganized mind you, but because I really do find it amusing that they wave at me every time they see me. Labels: Home Improvement, It's All About Me |
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| Home Redecorating 101 |
Are you looking for ways to make your home redecorating project simple and easy?
Is the cost of expensive contractors turning you off?
Does the thought of painting make you cringe?
Does the thought of inhaling evil chemicals to strip wallpaper off the walls make you gag?
Have you discovered your own attempts at redecorating your powder room left you in a mess like this?
Or do you find yourself wondering how to fix holes in the walls, and not to get electrocuted in the process, remind you of this?
Do you often wonder how all the hard work will ever get done?
I have a solution for YOU!
You won’t be disappointed you took the time to sit through my advertisement my friends. The solution is simple, cost effective and requires nothing but sexual favors* in return.
What is this answer to making home redecorating projects simple?
What is this miracle product I am endorsing?
Why, it’s a husband!
Here are my tips to soliciting help from “the husband” or, whoever else happens to live with or near you, for help.
1. When the going gets tough, throw a temper tantrum and go to the garage, find a drill (anything big and loud that makes holes will do), and turn it on and makes lots of noise with it until “the husband” gets concerned about the amount of noise and massive size of the drill bit you are using, and takes care of those nasty wall plugs for you.
2. When unsure how to turn off the electricity, innocently ask if you can die trying to take down a light fixture.
3. When you have managed to convince “the husband” to handle the electrical aspect of your redecorating project, and he decides to fix the faulty wiring in the light switch, do not exclaim over and over again that the tools he is using look just like the tools you make your own jewelry with.
4. Apologize profusely when you get the evil glare signaling your jewelry making tools serve no purpose and are not required in the realm of manly stuff like “rewiring electrical outlets”.
5. When spraying harsh chemicals to remove a wall paper border start to bother your throat, try to draw attention to yourself and cough incessantly. If “the husband” ignores your coughing, wonder out loud if the chemicals affect your libido. Watch him spring into action.
6. When your own attempts to putty and fill drywall holes leave the wall looking like they are oozing snot and melting, sigh loudly. If your sighs go unnoticed, sigh louder!
7. For fun, while “the husband” is inside doing the real work, prance around outside making noises with the drill in your bikini. Not only will the the neighbors think you're psychotic cool, but you can work on your tan at the same time.
8. And to top the whole project off, blow the budget completely through the roof and order a custom made mirror because you want it. When “the husband” questions your choices and ability to make decisions, inform him that if he really loved you, he would understand. Also remind him that the custom order is contingent on receiving sexual favors*.
9. Follow through with sexual favors* to build trust and rapport for the next home redecorating project.
* please provide sexual favors responsibly Labels: Comic Relief, Home Improvement |
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| Cat-astrophe |
I swear my sole purpose on the earth was to be a constant reminder to the rest of humanity to “don’t do like I do”.
The last time my husband and I painted, we had a little mishap of him stepping off a ladder into a tray of paint. Although annoying, it was funny as hell watching him hop about so as to not to leave his footprints all over the carpet.
This time, we didn’t get off so easy.
I was finishing up our first coat in the main entrance closet. Our front door near the closet was open to help air out the paint fumes. Like clockwork, whenever there is any window or door open to the outside world, the cats rush to sit there and lounge, hoping to catch some sunshine or a cool breeze across their furry bodies.
One of my cats happens to very skittish. The day I met Simon my heart just went out to the little blue eyed wonder. He had endured some horrible abuse, and as a result, had a serious eye deformity and needed to have it operated on and removed. Hubby and I fell in love with the brave little guy and adopted him the spot. We cared and nurtured him back to health after his eye removal surgery, and although he’s a total darling, whatever cruelty he endured earlier on in his cat life left him totally traumatized. He, to this day, remains extremely wary and untrustworthy of his surroundings. (hey…if you had one eye and bumped into walls all the time, you would too!). Basically, he jumps at everything. If you sneeze, he jumps. If you cough, he jumps, In fact, if you look at him the wrong way, he jumps.
While I was happily painting away, my skittish cat was quietly louging in the porch sunning himself. My husband decided to go mow the lawn. He started up the mower right beside the window where my cat was relaxing. The noise startled him something fierce, and he jumped and ran like a bat out of hell, directly into and through the paint tray laying near the entrace way to the house. His entire back end and paws were covered with a lovely shade of willingtan tan taupe paint as he darted directly up the stairs, depositing little painted paw prints everywhere he stepped.
Here is the little freak show after an attempted clean up. He had issues with me rubbing around his back side to remove the paint. I can’t say I blame him. I would have issues with someone rubbing latex paint off my bum hole too.
So remember, don't do like I did, and keep all loaded paint trays clear of doorways.
Painting Update: Here is how the paint job is coming around. We still need to apply another coat, but the main wall colour (thankfully) does not look like poo!
The accent diarrhea wall has dried a bit darker of a colour, but it wasn’t exactly the look I was going for.
We plan on replacing the carpet with hardwood floors, adding some nicer baseboards and we have to paint the back wall leading up the stairway, but that will be a much lighter colour to match the living room walls.
Labels: Comic Relief, Home Improvement |
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| Because when you feel like a big bag of shit... |
....why not paint to reflect your mood?
When I get mad, I have been known to err on the side of irrational at times (but only sometimes). After the events that transpired Saturday (and the emotional week we already endured), I needed an outlet to deal.
My outlet: Repainting the Living Room and Dining Room.
My poor husband is very patient with me while I have my little tantrums and rampages of anger. On this particularly wild spell of mine, he committed his long weekend to patching and sanding walls and painting like a wild man in order to get our room finished before he left for the week on a business trip.
While hubby patched up a storm, I taped up a storm. Eight hours of mundane, time consuming taping. Whoever decided that a room should have more than one colour, or even straight clean lines for that matter, obviously was conspiring with the tape companies to drive humanity insane.
You know that old expression that people use when you can’t contain your emotions? Something to the effect of “wearing your emotions on your sleeve”.
Apparently, just wearing my emotions wasn’t good enough. I had to paint my wall to reflect how I felt too. This, ladies and gentleman, is my diarrhea coloured accent wall.
I've learned the hard way, that just because you feel like a big bag of shit, doesn’t mean you have to paint your home to reflect your mood.
Labels: Comic Relief, Home Improvement |
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| No More Push Up Bras at Home Depot Allowed |
After rising to the tender touch of my man pushing back the hair covering my face and kissing my eyelids in a gentle attempt to wake me for a delicious breakfast in bed he prepared for yours truly, we decided and plotted to spend our entire Sunday lounging in bed.
That lasted all of two seconds once I was fully awake and wired on caffeine. I became fidgety and antsy and wanted to go out and do something.
I convinced my husband we should get started on our bathroom project. Although we still want to move out of this house full of empty Ava memories, we’ve decided to stick around this area for a couple of years while we find our bearings again, and try and reestablish and reinvent our lives. Once the decision to stick around was made, we started planning on giving our upstairs bathroom a simple, but much needed face lift, and replace the cracked sink and counter top.
Feeling excited about our next little household project, we headed to Home Depot to check out some new counter tops and sinks. Of course, our 22 year old home does not seem to have any “standard” size fixtures anymore, so what started out as a simple project to replace the countertop, quickly turned into a “tearing out and replacing the old non standard sized sink/counter top combo that we can’t fit a standard sink/counter top on with a new standard sized unit and fixtures, a new floor to cover where the old non standard cabinets sat with the floor cut out around it, new lighting and mirror (as our old mirror and lighting will no longer fit and work with the new spacing challenges) and hell, why not throw in a new whirlpool deep soaker tub while were at it” project.
Once at home depot, my husband became extremely bored looking at cabinetry finishes and detail, and went to look at more “manly stuff”. While I was perusing the gorgeous counter top, faucet and sink options, a Home Depot clerk came up to me and asked if they could help. I decided to explain our dilemma about our current non standard size unit and small space to work in and that what I really wanted would require moving the sink over a few inches and didn’t quite understand how involved (or costly) that would be.
I wish my husband would have been with me at that point, because the guy “helping” me either he thought I was stupid, or just was stupid himself and he began explaining the intricacies of plumbing to my breasts!
I tried to make eye contact and ask questions so he would look up at my face, but his gaze kept shifting southward. I even tried to feign interest in his words by resting my fingers inquisitively on my chin hoping he would notice the rock on my finger blatantly displaying my married state, and break his rude and obvious suggestive glances.
When my attempt at helping him redeem himself failed, I finally cut him off and before storming off, I made sure to tell him that “I’m sure my breasts found what he had to say extremely fascinating, but as for myself, I was too busy noticing his thinning hair line to pay attention”.
I think I’ll just go ahead and call a plumber to get their thoughts and advice on the matter. Hopefully when they talk to me about piping and sinks they won’t be thinking about sinking their pipe where it doesn’t belong!”
I’ve certainly learned my lesson. No more push up bras allowed at home depot!Labels: Home Improvement, Soapbox |
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| Bedroom Project Status: COMPLETE |
Back in May I mentioned that Mark and I were in the middle of redecorating our bedroom. (How can we forget having the inlaws over to help paint when a song with "nasty sex lyrics" started blasting out of our computer speakers).
Actually I first made mention of our decorating bug back in March when we decided to blow our tax return money on upgrading our double bed to a king size and buying all new bedroom furniture rather than start an education fund for our unborn child, but the whole project was quickly put on hold for a variety of reasons. To keep life simple, I’ll claim laziness.
We had many great debates about which room we were going to decorate first in our new home. I had hopes of decorating the living room and dining room area first, but Mark insisted with a persistence and determination I have never seen before that the bedroom was where the real excitement was and we needed to focus on “making it swanky”.
Although his idea of swanky was a sex swing and leopard print sheets (which I quickly vetoed because as the woman I have that power), I was looking for something more along the lines of classy and elegant.
Neither of us had ever attempted decorating before. I mean, I bought one off things, like artwork, vases and beer mugs, but never a whole room at once. It was slightly daunting, because I had no idea what I was doing. I had an idea in my head what I wanted, but trying to find the pieces to match what was in my head was a whole other story.
Please be gentle. My tastes are probably a little “out there”, but here it is, my new bedroom.
Yes, I have a pillow fetish
The more pillows the better...
I like fake plants too. They don't die when I neglect them...
I once thought this was MY dresser...
...That is until Stinky Magoo claimed it as his (and left the claw marks to prove it from his rapid take offs when invisible beings appear out of nowhere beckon him to suddenly run like a maniac.)
My Eiffle Tower look alike lamps. Note the finger prints a plenty in the glass! The crystal was a gift from my aunt when Ava died.
It's really a place mat, but I think they looked pretty darn snazzy on our night stands.
A trash can
A piece of art that I have had my eyes on for the better part of 4 years. I love love LOVE this.
No this isnt artwork, but he's definetely a piece of work! He just learned how to open the slidding patio doors to let himself outside. Look! He even matches my carpet!
Ava's memory box and little porcelein music box are all that sit atop my dresser (besides an occasional lounging cat). I pay tribute to her in her little music box every day. It plays "You are so beautiful".
Mark is happy because the artwork and velvet quilt satisfied his aspirations for “swanky” (even the cats love it, their fur sticks to the velvet like Bill Clinton to a Big Mac) and I’m happy because the whole room came together exactly as I had imaged.
Labels: Home Improvement, It's All About Me, Mark |
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| Refrigerator Rhapsody |
I need some comic relief in my life right now. These past few days have been intense! Let me tell you about my weekend refrigerator extravaganza.
Two weeks ago, while my Bro was visiting, our dinner went to the crapper because my stupid fridge froze everything. (Ok. Only my dinner suffered. Everyone else who ate MEAT had a hearty BBQ meal consisting of burgers and various meat stuff. My carrots and lettuce froze).
Thinking nothing of it, I had another beer, turned down the temperature in the fridge, laughed it off, and called it a night.
Fast forward one week.
It’s Saturday afternoon. The sun is shining and the beers are chilling. The beer clouds rolled in signaling it was time to venture out on the deck and indulge in the “ignant fluid!”
CRAP!
They are piss warm! What’s going on? I yelled for Mark to investigate. I just add beer to the fridge; I don’t understand all of the intricacies as to how the fridge makes them cold.
He does some manly checking. Pulls the fridge out, flexes his muscles, touches and pokes stuff, and decides we need a new fridge. Whatever!
Unlike Kurt, not all of us have the patience to wait for repair men and have the urge to shop for fridge magnets.
We rushed like crazy fools to Sears to buy a new piece of hardware for our kitchen before the beer clouds rolled out and the sun set. I mean, how do you live without beer on Saturday? Surely they deliver one hour before closing right? We were desperate!
We were in and out in 20 minutes. I’m not picky. All refrigerators look the same. There was a fridge on sale that had a pop can holder (a clever disguise for a beer holder). I was sold! Beers were waiting at home and the sun was still shining. We had to embrace all of the above.
Unfortunately, they didn’t offer delivery service on the fly. Even after explaining our predicament of sunshine and beer drinking on the back deck, the sales man just shook his head and said Thursday was the best he could do (I think I saw a tear fall as he sympathized about our predicament).
Defeated and annoyed with shopping for large expensive furniture, we drove home and decided our deep freeze was the solution to cold beers on our deck in the sun.
After a few drinks we remembered the poor hunk of junk in the kitchen that we would soon be offering our good byes to as our new shiny white Kenmore arrived. Being the rebel that he is, Mark gave it a good kick on his way downstairs to our deep freeze for a beer.
Would you believe it started working?
Who’da thunk it? We cancelled our order from sears and giggled like school girls (and boys) at all the meat we had just BBQed in an effort to save it from the garbage bin. (We did bid all the thawed bacon adieu however…that took too much effort too cook when the beer clouds were cheering us on).
Lessons learned. We didn’t have to spend $1000 on a new fridge, we were still able drink cold beers, and kicking the crap out of an appliance really does work!
Labels: Comic Relief, Home Improvement |
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| Paint by Numbers |
Paint by Numbers!
Remember those from when you were a kid? All the little shapes on the page neatly outlined and numbered with the corresponding legend indicating what colour to paint each shape on the page?
That’s what we could have used this weekend as my husband and I attempted our first paint job ever. Thankfully, his dad made the trip to the city to help us figure out what the heck we needed to do, what materials we needed to buy, and how to actually put the stuff on a wall.
I remember when we bought this house in April of 2004 we had BIG BIG BIG plans to have the entire house painted in about two days before we actually started moving our stuff in. We closed in August, and by the time we closed I was pregnant so painting would have to be put on the back burner.
Looking back, we were so naïve about painting. We’ve spent two full days on the bedroom already and it still isn’t finished. I have to blame my misconceptions about painting on those decorating shows on TV. How the hell do they get everything done so fast? They have a room painted in an hour on Trading Spaces. I suppose the paint fairies are all behind the scenes taping, cutting in and rolling while the rest of the actors workers bumble around on camera to make themselves look busy.
I wasn’t able to do much since I had the c-section not long ago (all the up and down motion would sure do a number on my stomach muscles), but at least I was able to help by painting the trim and doing all the cutting in.
We learned a lot from Mark’s dad. We learned that a nice even paint job can’t be rushed, that you make many many many trips to Home Depot throughout the day to buy all the things you need and keep forgetting, that people actually CLEAN their brushes and paint trays instead of being lazy and throwing them away like we had planed to do, that leaving the paint tray at the foot of the ladder is a disaster waiting to happen (yes, Mark stepped in it) and that NEVER, under any circumstances, haphazardly generate a playlist from your music collection when your mother and father in law are visiting without first verifying every single song for lyrical content.
Something about a song with lyrics like “Nasty Sex” while my husband, his mom, his dad and me are all hanging out in our BEDROOM is just SO INCREDIBLY wrong. Labels: All in the Family, Comic Relief, Home Improvement |
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Thursday, January 24, 2008
Monday, October 29, 2007
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monday, July 02, 2007
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Friday, October 28, 2005
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