Tag: writing

I Am Weak

I succumbed to the media hype touting “Black Friday Deals” even though I swore long ago to not ever participate in the lunacy of the mobs shopping on the morning after Thanksgiving.  Years ago, eight to be exact, our refrigerator went out on Thanksgiving evening loaded to the gills with enough leftovers to feed a small army.  Desperate to not lose the food Mitch jumped in the car and bought many bags of ice to fill the coolers loaded with food that wasn’t thoroughly chilled.

Very early Friday morning we entered the fray in order to find the best price on a refrigerator in stock in one of the many stores that sold appliances.  I could not believe the crush of people pushing and shoving each other just to save a few dollars on some totally useless prize.  There were men and women snatching up their finds bashing into other shoppers thoroughly thoughtless of their actions.  I didn’t hear one “excuse me” the whole day.  But I did hear, “watch it” and “that’s mine” a lot.  At Best Buy, the line to check out and pay snaked from the front of the store up and down aisles to the very back of the store.  I told Mitch there was no amount of money we could save that would cause me to stand in the line to buy the refrigerator.   Needless to say, we went elsewhere in search of a refrigerator.

We found one later at Factory Direct Appliance, and were helped promptly and courteously.  We paid and loaded up the fridge, swearing to each other that we would never venture out on Black Friday ever again.

But this morning I fell for the hype.  I ventured out well after the lunatics had pillaged the stores and had driven home with their plunder.  I had my own treasures to find.  Where did I go for my plunder?  Petco where I bought two bags of dog food and RedX where I bought a case of wine.  Got to stock up on the staples, winter is coming.   I have priorities you know.

I am so weak.

A Man and His Home Improvement Store

What is it about a man and a home improvement store?  I love to shop as much as the next person, especially for shoes, but come on, what is the enticement of plumbing parts?  Shoes and boots have a stylish appeal that expresses your personality that you can show the world whenever you step outdoors.  But hose connectors?  Who’s going to see them?  When guests come over you would show off the tile or pedestal sinks in a newly remodeled bath, but no one would point out the shiny new hoses for the hot and cold water.

But yet Mitch will stand and gaze over the plumbing aisle forever with a look of sheer awe at the variety of shapes and sizes of hoses and connectors.  I even asked if he had measured before we got to Lowes and he said yes he knew exactly what he needed.  After ten minutes of watching him stare transfixed at the huge assortment, I said that I was going to go to the tile section to find something that would work for the gap at the top of the shower to the ceiling.  He said, “Okay,” in a faraway dreamy voice like a drug addict that had just gotten a fix.

On my way to the tile section I found the kitchen countertop that I fell in love with instantly and took pictures of it with my phone so I would remember it later.  I wandered through the tile section and came up with all kinds of solutions to the three inch gap.  The guest bathroom is not only small in area but with a very low ceiling, so with the shower on, there would be condensation and back splashing that would cause the sheetrock to get wet.  With having to remodel the remodel, Mitch is extra cautious about moisture in the bathroom. 

After spending a very productive ten minutes finding our new kitchen countertop (this will be Mitch’s next project, although he doesn’t know it yet) and coming up with a number of solutions for the top of the shower I wandered back to find Mitch still in the plumbing section.  He had one two inch section of hose fitting and a tube of sealer in his hand.  I asked what else he needed and he said no he had everything he needed.  So why was he still standing there?  It has to plumbing crack.  I looked skyward for guidance.

I dragged him away to show him the new countertop I wanted and my ideas for the top of the shower.  We made a decision to use porcelain tile at the top and grabbed a couple of pieces to take home to try out.  He then said he needed to get caulk.  Oh no, not caulk, anything but caulk.  I don’t know how many hundreds of tubes of caulk Mitch has bought over the years, but each time he needs to buy caulk, we go through the same process.  He stares at the variety of brands, types and colors for minutes, and then when he finally makes a decision, he stands there and reads the entire back section of the tube.  Why?  What could he possibly learn that he does not already know about caulk having caulked four bathrooms in the last three years?

God help me if the caulk industry ever does invent a new and improved caulk.

I Am Such a Sissy

We just got back from a long weekend trip to Castle Rock, Colorado to see my best friend in the whole world.  Castle Rock is located on the eastern side of the Rocky Mountains about 2 hours or so from the foothills.  It has been decades since either Mitch or I have been to Colorado.  So we went sightseeing to some of the areas attractions.  On a whim the four of us decided to drive up to the top of Pike’s Peak.  My parents had taken me up when I was a child but I had forgotten anything about it other than going.

Pike’s Peak has an elevation of 14,110 feet above sea level, 31st highest peak out of 54 so it’s no slouch.  For some reason though, I didn’t think that 14,110 feet was so high, I don’t know, maybe I was suffering altitude sickness or just that impoverished model of reality that I live in.  Because for someone that is not a fan of heights I thought that driving up a winding narrow two lane road in thin air sounded like a great idea.  The ride started off nicely with great vistas of the mountains in the background and dramatic cliffs climbing all the way up to heaven. 

We hadn’t even gotten half way up when one side of the road was a huge drop off with no shoulder.  The side of the road just ended and there was nothing but space.   I was terrified to look out the window and over the drop off for fear that the mere force of my body weight angled toward the car window would cause us to veer off the side and plummet down to our deaths.  Consequently I found myself leaning over toward my friend trying to will the car’s weight and balance toward the middle of the road.  Yes I know a truly rational thought. 

When we finally reached the top of Pike’s Peak and got out of the car the second thing that totally surprised me was how cold it was.  Yes I know, we just drove vertically 14,110 feet and the air should be colder, but at the base the air temperature was 68 degrees why was it now 28 degrees and I was not dressed for 28 degrees.  Plus I was shocked at how little air there was to breathe and I was sucking in as much I could get, but there wasn’t much to go around.

Once I finally decided to quit being such a baby I marveled at the height we were at.  We were two thousand feet above the tree line with only tundra and rocks scattered around.  The view was magnificent, which as a matter of fact, was what inspired the song, America the Beautiful.  After warming up in the visitors’ center, we loaded up and headed off back down the mountain.  Lucky me we are going to be hurtling out of control down the mountain at break neck speeds around fifteen miles an hour or so.  Woo hoo.

An Early Morning HIke

AJ taking his time enjoying the new trail.

Charlie does not stop running.

Orso looking for something to chase.

A pretty early morning view.

Grace and Brains Too

With my usual grace, I was able to maim myself once again with yet another innocuous object.  In this case the skeleton key on my necklace was the weapon of disfigurement.  Mitch constantly asks how I am able to cut or bruise myself on something that doesn’t pose any threat to the majority of the human race.  I have a gift that’s all.  I don’t a pose a threat to anyone else, just myself. 

My injury occurred at work on Friday, while trying to be ecologically conscientious.  The company I work for recently passed out blue bins to each of us for the express purpose of paper recycling.  We are responsible for filling the bins and then carting the bins downstairs to the warehouse and dump the paper in specially marked boxes.  I normally try to empty my bin when it’s about half full, because when the bin is full of paper, it is very heavy.  Or maybe I’m just a wimp.  But in this case I haven’t had a chance to empty it in about a month so it was pretty full and heavy.

I lugged it all the way to the warehouse and when I hoisted it up to dump the paper into the box, the lip of the bin caught the skeleton key whipping it up and smacking me in the middle of my forehead cutting me.  I almost made a smart ass remark about workman’s comp when I turned around to see the HR manager waiting patiently for me to finish dumping my bin so she could dump hers that she had pushed in on a cart.  Not only am I “graceful” but evidently not very smart either.

An Unproductive Day

It’s just a rainy Saturday, a perfect day to get caught up on cleaning the house, the closet or some other productive household chore.  But I’m just not in the mood.  This is something I’ll regret tomorrow or the next day, but not today.  Today, I just want to relax and do nothing productive.  The dogs aren’t even any fun.  They’re lying curled up on the bed snoozing, enjoying the rainy day too. 

The only one who is getting anything accomplished is Mitch.  He is diligently working on the re-construction of the guest bathroom.   He’s mudding and sanding and re-mudding and re-sanding the sheetrock seams, giving it his best shot, even though applying mud and sanding is not his forte.  Of course this is adding to my guilt level, knowing that I’m being a slug and he’s slaving away. 

I feel like painting something, maybe the kitchen.  Painting is therapeutic for me.  One small problem, I have no paint and haven’t even picked out a color yet.  But that doesn’t stop me from thinking about painting the kitchen; it just adds to the mental guilt list of one more thing I could be doing if I had been more proactive in deciding on a color and buying the paint.  I could run to Lowes and hurriedly pick out a color and just start painting.  Of course we all know how well my painting projects go. 

Good thing it’s a small kitchen.

The Weremoth

I had no idea that danger was lurking waiting for me this morning as I went through my morning routine.  I took the dogs for their early morning walk, where we dodge deer, raccoons and loose gravel (you have no idea how dangerous the lone piece of gravel is until you step on it in the dark).  Thankfully, the morning walk was without incident, for a change. 

Coming back home, the dogs got their carrots and I jumped into the shower.  After my shower, I started putting on my makeup, totally unaware of the danger just waiting for me.  I pulled out my makeup drawer reached in and grabbed my moisturizer smeared it on my face, and then went after the eye cream when I felt the ever so slight flutter against my hand.  I jerked my hand back just in time to see the rare extremely dangerous weremoth make its escape to the back of the drawer and into the dark recesses of the cabinet.   I just narrowly escaped with my life.  Not sure what a weremoth is, well they are big, huge, black, white or maybe purple, it doesn’t matter.  They strike just when your guard is down and you’re totally relaxed, like putting on your makeup.  I knew without a doubt that it would fly out of the drawer and latch onto my neck and suck out all my blood. 

Having only just started putting on my makeup I had no choice but to finish as quickly as possible keeping one eye on the mirror and what I was doing and one eye on the drawer hoping the weremoth wouldn’t sneak out and stage a blitz attack on me.  Where was Charlie when I needed him?  He always loves to eat moths.

I just hope I remember that it’s in there waiting and lurking for the perfect moment to fly out and kill us all in the middle of the night.  Maybe Mitch will find it first…

Orso Being His Usual Uncooperative Self

Orso wants to go out for a walk but not helping get his harness on is more fun.

“See you can do it without me.  I don’t have to stand for this.”

And It Just Doesn’t End

Two coats of gray primer and three coats of red paint just to paint a door and I’m not sure that three coats of paint will be enough to give that finished look.  Seriously?  If I had known that red was such a difficult color to work with, I would have gone with blue or green or anything else, maybe purple.  A simple one day project has taken all week and I’m not sure it’s really done yet.  I’m waiting for the third coat of paint to dry.

After the second coat of paint had dried I peeled off the tape protecting the glass panes and the door knob.  That went badly as well.  I should have used Frog tape, but no I used the regular blue that has worked in the past.  The blue tape hung on to the red paint with great tenacity.  I peeled off huge chunks of red paint on the metal strips between the window panes.  This meant that I had to make another trip to Lowes to buy tiny paint brushes to touch up the flubs.  I have started to doubt my sanity at attempting this project. 

I have only painted one side of the three doors mind you.  I still have the back side of the doors to paint.  Today is Sunday one week ago on last Sunday I started this insanity.  Guess what, vacation is officially over, tomorrow I get to go back to work, who hoo. 

At least Mitch has had a productive project laden vacation.  He gutted the bathroom, ripped out the tile floor, floor below and the subfloor in four days and in the last two he has re-installed the subfloor and floor.  He’s now ready to go buy the backer board for the tile and tile the floor, which he’ll get done this week.  Me, I’ll probably have to apply another coat of paint. 

A wadded up newspaper and a match is looking awfully good right now.

Another DIY Project Gone Horribly Wrong

Another stay at home working vacation for us.  This one is to redo a recent remodel, which sucks.  We gutted the second bathroom off the kitchen four years ago.  We removed the old ugly gold enamel cast iron tub and institutional sink and replaced them with a corner shower stall and cute pedestal sink.  It looked great, but the shower started to leak so we have to rip it out and fix the leak.  This has entailed ripping out the shower and the tile floor to see how much of the floor underneath the tile was ruined.  Most of the floor was water soaked so Mitch has had to tear out the floor and a large section of subfloor, leaving a huge hole in the floor looking down into the basement.  What fun redoing a remodel.

While he is immersed in the redo I thought that this would be the perfect time to do some of my pet projects that need to be done and haven’t had the time to accomplish.  One of the projects is a quick and easy one day spiff up.  I wanted to paint the three metal entry doors a new color to brighten up the look of the house.  Simple easy project, pick out a color, buy the paint and paint the door, right?  Leave it to me to turn a simple three step process into a four day ordeal. 

After weeks of looking at paint chips, I finally decided on a red hue.  I bought the paint in a quart size can, playing it safe just in case the color didn’t look as good on as it did on the chip.  Sunday afternoon after I got home from Lowes with paint in hand, I covered the floor with newspapers, for the drips. There are always drips when I paint.  I taped off the door knobs and the little strips between the window panes in the kitchen door.  I will never have windows with the little panes of glass because taping off the little panes was a pain in the neck.  I was finally ready to paint.  I started with the kitchen door and all of its’ little window panes.   I stirred the paint again for good measure and dipped the brush in the can and spread the first coat on.  It was horrible.  The painted surface looked like I had used my hand and was finger painting.  Large streaks of the unpainted door below showed through.  I couldn’t believe it; I had never had that happen before.  I thought maybe because the kitchen door hadn’t been painted before it would look better after it dried and I applied a second coat.

I decided to paint the second door and see how it looked.  The other two doors have had three different colors on them so I was sure that they would look much better.  I was wrong.  Both the second and third doors looked as bad as the first one.  The only thing I could do was to wait for them to dry and hope a second coat would fix everything. 

Monday (day two) morning came and the paint was still tacky.  I couldn’t believe it, this has never happened before.  I grabbed the half full can of paint and headed off to Lowes for some help and guidance.  I explained the problem, what the doors look like and what could I do to fix it.  Those two women couldn’t have been more helpful.  They asked lots of questions and explained that red paint had lots of pigment in it and could account for some of the problem and the brand of paint I had picked out was not very good for coverage.  I wished that had been explained to me the day before when I bought it.  It was decided that I needed to prime the doors with gray primer because gray primer works best with red paint and switch brands to Valspar, which I’ve always had good luck with anyway.  The paint department manager didn’t think I would have to apply paint stripper and start all over.  After much discussion we decided that I could probably get by with just painting the primer over the top of the tacky painted surface.  They refunded the full price of the half used can of paint and of course the only size can in stock was a gallon, my usual luck, but they only charged me the price of a quart.  I went home and went about applying a coat of primer, hoping that this was just a little set back.  No, not my luck.

I applied the gray primer and it looked as bad as or worse than the red paint below.  The brush grabbed the paint and left blobs and smears all over the door.  A wadded up piece of paper and a match in the corner is starting to look really good right now.  And just because I’m a glutton for punishment, I decided to paint one of the other doors to see if it would turn out any better.  It didn’t.  This time I stopped at two.  I’m not a total masochist.  I decided this would be a good time to mow the yard.  That I can do without it turning into a major ordeal. 

Two hours later the paint was dry so I thought why not put another coat of paint on to see if there was any improvement.  What did I have to lose, what’s one more coat for the paint stripper to have to take off if it didn’t work?   Surprise there is a god.  The second coat covered the first very nicely.  It looked like what primer should have looked like.  Maybe there is hope. 

Tuesday (day three) I wake up ready to paint a second coat of primer on the remaining door so I can apply the real color.  Tuesday morning, it’s also only forty five degrees outside, too cold to paint a metal door.  I have to wait for the sun to warm up the metal before I can apply any paint.  Waiting sucks.