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9月17日 Memory Lane Needs Trash Pick-UpPeter and I just had a couple of storage units delivered to our house. I'm embarrassed at the sheer amount of junk that we've had in storage for so many years. I've always been unreasonably attached to "stuff", but I've finally reached a point in my life where getting rid of some of my stuff won't kill me. Unpacking the storage units and sorting through our possessions with a more rational mind has been an interesting exercise. We're holding a giant garage sale at the end of the month and, for the first time, the garage sale will be more cathartic than traumatic (as long as I don't find my prized cassette tapes in the mix!).
Most of the stuff we had in storage was pure garbage and ended up there only because we ran out of time to sort through everything before the house remodel THREE YEARS AGO. There were, however, a few nice finds. My favorites include:
There's one thing I haven't found that I am dying to find: my wedding dress. I found the ao dai that Peter and I wore in the Buddhist ceremony, but I knew where those were all along. For whatever reason, my wedding dress wasn't stored in the same place... Anyway, we are swimming in stuff and encourage you to come to our garage sale if you have any need for a dish drying rack or two, a French press coffeemaker, a Pyrex baking dish or pie plates, a knife sharpener (we had THREE, but I'm keeping one and giving one to Tina), a metal roasting pan, red silk roses, an old Tivo, a like-new bathroom scale, a tube TV, peripherals for your ancient Toshiba Tecra 8100, an Epson inkjet printer, men's dress shirts, women's clothing from the 90s, or any other miscellany that we might decide to put out on the lawn. 2月16日 23rd and UnionThis is neat! Tina sent us this link to an article from Forbes titled "America's Most Lucrative Neighborhoods". Either their sources haven't heard about the recent drug activity and shooting at 23rd and Union or they're putting more weight on the fact that this has all prompted a new "cop stop". Most likely, because this has all happened in just the last year, no one official is taking it into account.
That 445% median price growth since 1990 is pretty insane. Most people in this neighborhood haven't been around long enough to take advantage of much of that, though we've appreciated good growth even in the 6 years we've lived here. Everyone around here is pretty much just happy that home prices haven't dropped much. I do feel bad for people who have no choice but to sell right now and are having to watch their homes sit for a lot longer before they sell. 1月23日 Quiet Evenings at HomeFor the next 15 days, we are without a TV. Our projector went kaput Saturday afternoon while we were trying to set up our new Media Center PC and, more importantly, while I was in the middle of a new Rock Band solo tour. The people at InFocus responded to our desperate support request Monday morning, suggesting we try things like press the power button and check the indicator lights. The thing was totally dead. The fan didn't turn on. There was no power getting to it whatsoever. Peter removed and reattached it from the ceiling mount several times, hoping each time that the projector would automagically start running again. Ultimately, InFocus gave us an RMA number and an address where we could send the projector for repairs. So, we had to pay to ship it via insured mail, will have to pay to get it fixed, and then will have to pay to get it shipped back. In the meantime, we will pay the ultimate price with no TV at home for 15 DAYS. All the stuff on the DVR that we hadn't watched, including my all-important "Amazing Race 12" finale, will now get deleted/overwritten by repeats of " 3月14日 We've Got High HopesThe last few days have been really draining. We applied to refinance our mortgage last week and the appraiser called us Saturday. She wanted to come by and see the house this week. She suggested Monday, but I requested an appointment for today. As of Saturday morning, we've spent every waking hour (of which there've been many) prepping the house. We painted, moved furniture, scrubbed walls, took stuff to storage, and painted some more. We even enlisted our carpenter for a rush job on the fireplace. The way we see it, getting your house ready for an appraisal is a lot like staging it for sale. Not quite, but damn close.
We've got high hopes--pie in the sky hopes--that our house appraisal will come back high. Higher than we need it to be because to have that would mean that all the pain and suffering of December 15th, 2001 through March 13th, 2007 will have been worth it.
The appraiser came by this morning to document all the work we've done on the house. We hope to have two small, not-too-much-to-ask-for things come out of this. ONE: We want the bank to roll all our debts (regular mortgage plus HELOC) into one 30-year fixed mortgage at a lower interest rate than we previously had on either. TWO: Despite all the money that went into the house, we'd like to come out of this with at least 20% equity in the house, preferably more. Nothing would be worse or make us feel dumber than having to pay PMI (all because we didn't watch our bottom line and managed to overspend).
Before the visit, I had mentioned to the appraiser that I felt the best comp was a house just a few doors down. I told her that we'd gone to the open house for that one not long after work was complete on ours and were pleased to see we'd made some similar design choices (new, open kitchen, a more open floor plan, and hex tile and beadboard in the bathrooms) and that all other people in the open house seemed at least as excited as us. Of course I pointed out that our finishes were nicer: teak vs. Corian counters and hardwoods or hand-scraped wood laminates versus white carpet. There were lots of families with kids looking at that house and I couldn't imagine white carpets and kids mixing well. Despite that, I said, the place sold within days of the open house.
This morning, the appraiser brought paperwork on that place and was quick to point out that our house and lot are bigger. Although she'd checked out some of the other houses in the surrounding area, she agreed with me that this was the best comp. This all went down at the beginning of the visit and from then on, I breathed easier. The sale price on the comp had been higher than the conservative estimate I'd given the appraiser of how much I thought our house was worth. Even if we controlled for everything else, we'd still have the square footage to fall back on. I was scared as hell about what kind of comps she'd find because houses have been sitting longer than they did over the summer and I'd had a hard time finding places that sounded similar to ours.
The downside of this is that our taxes will probably go up by a ton, but we'll deal with that when we come to it. My peace of mind will come from knowing that we didn't just spend a half year and thousands of dollars only to screw ourselves. I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd have done that for free.
Now that it's all done, I feel like skipping around the house whistling and singing! We'll be ready for a house rewarming party soon!
P.S. I was so happy with how we "staged" the house that I went around taking my own pictures after the appraiser left! I never did get around to posting the rest of the in-progress remodel pics, but these are the "finished" ones. ("Finished" because our carpenter, Rob, won't be back until Thursday to put the final touches on the fireplace.) 11月22日 When Being A Snoop Pays OffThe somewhat famous chef-owner of a well-regarded, new-ish Seattle restaurant recently purchased a home two blocks west of us! How do I know this? Because we received a postcard in the mail from the realtor who listed the house for sale, bragging that we too could list our house with him and potentially sell it for the same absurd price. Primarily, though, I know this because I'm an insufferable snoop.
You see, I always read the open house postcards and flyers that come in the mail or that I run across when driving or walking through the neighborhood, but I took a special interest in this place because the specs were roughly equivalent to ours, falling somewhere in between what the house was pre-remodel and what it is now. How I managed to miss the open house, I don't know. Anyway, whenever I find out that a house has sold, I make a mental note to come back in a month and check the county records to compare the list price with the sale price. We got the postcard for this house on 25th a few weeks ago. It wasn't until today that I remembered to go back and check the county records. And that's when I saw the name. I gasped. I immediately IM'd Tina. I was quickly deflated. She doesn't remember the postcard and my incredulous reaction to it. I guessed that she probably didn't know the chef by name either, but she did know the restaurant because we went there once with a friend.
The agent who sent us this most recent postcard didn't mention the name of our latest celebrity resident*, probably had no idea who he was. But I do! And now, I feel like it's high time I changed my dog-walking route to climb up that hill instead of heading north! And maybe it's time I get in touch with the neighborhood association that I didn't, until recently, even know existed, and suggest we have neighborhood block parties next summer! Of course, if I ever meet this chef, I'll have to pretend I don't already know where he lives, that he's a new neighbor. Doing so would make me feel like a sneak and a snoop, but I'd feel even more like a freak confessing that I had already looked up his property records. I turn into a complete tool in the presence of greatness, though, so I will probably end up telling him whether I mean to or not.
* We once received a realtor advertisement that listed the address of a house in the neighborhood where Ray Charles lived when he was here in Seattle, also just a few blocks west from our house. 9月29日 CMAs (Chloe's Market Analyses)Excuse me if I've got money on the brain, but that's only because we're hemorrhaging it in buckets, folks. Someone call an ambulance. I'm not sure anyone's going to make it out of here alive.
With all the money is going into our house, I've been particularly obsessed with the local housing market. When we get our house reassessed, the going rate for other houses in our zip code will come into play. Confused by what I'm seeing within a two block radius of our house (namely, prices listed and sold anywhere between $330,000 and $700,000), I decided to look beyond that area and checked the quadrant of Seattle that lies east of 23rd and in between 520 and I-90 on Windermere. What I found only confused me more.
I don't know about you, but I'd rather have a house that looked like this:
and had views like these:
instead of paying an extra $10,000 just for the privilege of living on my particular block. (As much as it maybe should, having me there does not account for the added cost.)
But for just another $20,000 more than what they're asking for the fixer across the street, you could live in Madrona instead of that place above (in Leschi). You'd get a house twin, albeit one with a less dazzling view:
But, that's just me.
9月22日 Robbing the Blind?About a week or two ago, I came home from work to find a "For Sale By Owner" sign in front of a house across the street that had been a rental for as long as we've lived in the neighborhood and maybe even longer. I made a mental note to copy down the phone number on my way out to work the next morning. Well, I didn't get a chance to do that. The next morning, the sign was already gone. No way it could have sold that quickly, especially in a FSBO situation. I figured neighborhoodies had ripped it out. I also thought that maybe the owners had changed their minds. Maybe they wanted to do some more work on the place. This seemed like the most likely scenario because the tenants had been kind of rowdy and had several dogs besides.
The owners hadn't done that much work since the tenants moved out. For a few nights, there were some ladders leaned up against the front of the house. I sometimes saw lights on inside, but there wasn't nearly as much activity going on at the site as there had been at the place next door to it. (That one was a foreclosure-flip that was recently featured in the Seattle Times.) More importantly, the places on the front of the house where they had scraped off old paint hadn't been patched or repainted. Aha, I thought. They want to finish painting first. That makes a lot of sense.
But, no. There is now a Landmark Group sign in front of the place. I freaked when I saw the name on the sign. I knew that name from somewherel. It didn't take long for me to remember where I had seen and heard that name before. I checked property records and, sure enough, the neighbor who lives behind us and has been doing some work on his own house is the selling agent for the place! I didn't even know he was in real estate. Anyway, I'm sure he was out walking his dog or something and just happened to see the sign like all us other neighbors. He probably called up the owners straight away and offered them peanuts for the place. And now? Now, he's turned around and listed it for...$679,950! I'm sorry, but whatever the agent paid for it, it had to have been highway robbery.
I don't know whether to feel mad or excited. It sucks if the previous owners didn't do their research and were ripped off. I think that happens more often than not around here. Older people stay in their homes for decades and then, when they sell their homes, they get taken for a ride because they have no idea what their house is worth. Then again, I'm going to be jumping up and down if that house actually sells anywhere near the asking price, not that I think that will happen. It's got a lot more charm than ours, but the specs on it aren't that great. Um, 1620 square feet of living space (including the basement) on a 3900 square foot lot? And what about the scraped up siding out front? It's been cleverly described as follows, "Recently prepped exterior presents fresh canvas for you to express with color and make yours!"
People are getting greedy. The really fancy place just around the corner has been sitting on the market for almost a month at $699,000 and I don't expect even it will go for that much in the end. Yes, houses in the neighborhood have gone for that much and even more, but I think that's the exception and not the rule. That said, if there's an open house, I am so there.
8月25日 Construction ProgressAll of a sudden, our house is a hive of activity. I've never seen so many worker bees on site until today, the last workday of Week 10 of the Brussard household's extreme home makeover. I guess the contractor feels bad that we've had to resort to living in a tent, but whatever the reason, there's been more work on the house in the past three days than there's been in the past three weeks, as far as I can tell.
This week, the subcontractor, Ubaldo, hung, mudded, taped, sanded, and primered the drywall. This has made the biggest impact on the way the house looks (as well as the amount of dust and paint on our personal belongings...). We finalized our order for the double wall ovens and cooktop. The contractor worked with us to come up with a pattern for the 1" hex mosaic tiles in the bathroom. We ordered the exterior door for the basement. The tilesetter put down the hardibacker and Nuheat pad in the main floor bathroom. The cast iron clawfoot tub was prepped for painting. Today, the ceilings are being painted white while we figure out what color to paint the walls of the new kitchen/diningroom and hallway. Ideas?? (We already have a rich, yellow-y grass green in the adjacent livingroom.) We discussed the final design for the shower tiles in the downstairs bathroom. The plumber is hooking up the hot water heater today and will put in a temporary sink and toilet in the downstairs bathroom. The guys are supposed to install the kitchen cabinets and toe kicks so that the countertop can go in next week, but one of them hadn't shown up by the time I left for work so I'm not holding my breath. Lastly, we ordered the laminate flooring for the basement and will be picking it up later today. The plan is to install it ourselves over the weekend so the crew can put up the trim in the basement next week!
My frustration with the contractor and his crew are starting to subside. Even Peter is starting to get back to his old self. He and Pat toured the site this morning before Greg got there. He pointed out every issue with the drywall/spackle/primer and showed them how a bunch of our belongings had gotten sprayed with spackle and/or primer. (Ubaldo had thought to "bubble" the shop vac and bags of thin-set mortar but not the antique saw hanging on the wall, not the sheets of brand-new stainless steel hex tile, and definitely not any of the stacks of books and clothes we had stashed away upstairs.) Any effect Peter's grumbling "pissed off homeowner" act might have had was probably completely undone by the fact that he later inexplicably burst into song-and-dance at least three times while we walked around discussing what would happen later today. Hopefully, they will still do the work and not take his temporarily happy mood to mean that they can take the day off.
I am a few weeks behind on pictures, but there were some weeks when nothing apparent happened at all. When I get around to posting pictures, they'll probably be a group depicting weeks 7 through 10 or whatever. 8月24日 HomelessnessPeter and I have been, more or less, homeless for ten weeks now while our house undergoes a major remodel. We initially considered staying in corporate housing downtown or in Capitol Hill so we could be close by and continue checking on the house every day. We also talked about camping in the backyard so we wouldn't have to find accommodations for our two dogs. Instead, we ended up staying with Roger and Gina. We stayed with them until her family came to visit for a week. When that happened, we lived with Mark and Beth until it was time for houseboat. We were assured that the house would be ready for us to move back in after houseboat. That didn't happen. So, we stayed with Mark and Beth for one night after houseboat, with the understanding that Mark's brother and his fiance were coming to stay with them at the end of the week. Starting Tuesday night of this week, we pitched a tent in our backyard, on the deck where we said our wedding vows. Our vows should have included something about "in sickness and in health, under a roof or a tent..." At long last, we are really homeless.
Ever since I saw my first homeless person as a kid, a Vietnam Vet-looking type who hung out around Stater Bros and Centennial Park a lot, I started wondering what I'd do to get by if I was homeless. The issue occupied my thoughts more when I saw my first homeless family. The father, mother, young daughter and son spent a lot of time near the Taco Bell. I thought about where I would live, how I'd keep clean, get food. Even now, I'll see public or semi-public nooks and think, "That's the kind of place I'd set up my sleeping bag if I was homeless. I bet it would be warm and dry." It's a little weird, I know. I never considered, however, that I might be homeless and still have to go to work. It's all the things that are necessary when you have to show up at a job everyday that are difficult. For example, shower. Or, wear (reasonably) clean clothes. Figure out where to keep all your clothes. Or, check email before or after work.
Peter and I figured we had our new life as homeless people perfectly sketched out when we planned the following:
Sounds like we've got it all figured out, right? Well, the tent just barely fits on the part of the deck that we planned to use. We had to move the outdoor fireplace out of the way to make room, but it's not cold enough that we need to use it anyway. The camp stove is set up, but we couldn't find any propane tanks in the storage unit where all the other camping stuff was. We must have used them all up over Memorial Day weekend. This means we haven't been cooking and haven't had to use the cooler yet. We'll probably have to set it up now because I got a Pioneer Organics delivery yesterday. It was too late to cancel the order for this week because I had scheduled it back when I thought we'd be staying at Mark and Beth's and thought I could cook for them. Luckily, this week's order is mostly fruit and stuff you use in salads so that won't require any propane at all. I've used the garden hose to brush my teeth, but I couldn't figure out where to spit out my toothpaste except on the dirt. And I dropped my toothbrush in the dirt first thing after I sprayed it clean. Brushing my teeth in the front yard is kind of funny. I just stand there looking around at the neighbor's houses wondering what they make of all this. Yesterday morning, after brushing my teeth, I headed out to Safeway to buy some bread, peanut butter, and juice and to use the restroom. I didn't know that living in the ghetto means that restroom access at the grocery store is limited to the hours of 9am to 9pm. I briefly thought of the Capitol Hill Safeway's restroom. When we first moved in and had pulled up our only toilet to do some tiling, I used their restroom late one night, so I knew that was definitely an option. But, I figured, the Y is on the way home, so I'll just head over there and shower too. Peter and I showed up at the Y, towels and bath products in hand, only to find it closed. There were trucks from Oregon Tile and Marble and various other building supply companies and guys in hard hats in the parking lot. Naturally, this is the one week a year when the Y closes for maintenance and upgrades. We ended up showering yesterday when we stopped by Roger and Gina's to pick up some stuff that we'd left in their utility room. I've got all my stuff on me so I'll probably shower before I leave work today. This morning, we walked Cinnamon down to the Essential Baking Company, had some coffee, tea, and pastries for breakfast while we read The Stranger. On the way, I suggested to Peter that we use our bathroom needs as an excuse to also walk to breakfast at the Hi-Spot and St. Clouds. In this respect, we aren't faced with the same difficulties that truly homeless people are. We can still get dressed in relatively clean clothes, walk into yuppie establishments, and spend money on nice meals. We've shuffled our work gear between our cars and the house, whatever suits our mood when we get home at night, so that hasn't been a problem. But, as I've said before, I have a lot of clothes that I've deemed essential during this period of homelessness. As a result, my trunk is completely full. Full of clothes and shoes that I probably will stop wearing now that it's a real pain to get at all of it. Anyway, I don't think we'll be homeless for much longer. Yesterday, we spent an hour and a half with the contractor, during which time he described all the things that will be happening soon (relatively speaking) so that we can have a functioning (although not completely done) house. The contractor is a little weirded out because he said he's never had a client have to camp out before. Meh. It's not a big deal because it's something Peter and I had already discussed as a fun option early on. Besides, the weather's still cooperating, the end is in sight, and maybe now we'll have lent some much-needed urgency to the project. 7月13日 Sick of ShoppingIt's been a trying few weeks. My list of things to do grows constantly so that I am paralyzed and do nothing about any of it. That is, of course, unless it's related to the remodel.
Last Saturday, I spent five hours researching faucets, showerheads, and sinks for the basement bathroom. When you have "a vision," it's incredibly exhausting to try to bring it all together. The constraints like the ones I'm under were made for the unemployed/independently wealthy. If I had thousands of dollars to spare, all our fixtures would have been picked out a long time ago. As is, we're making decisions on the spot at the architectural salvage stores about town and spouting things like, "$500 is a drop in the bucket at this point." I never thought I'd ever say things like this, but it really is the only way to not lose your mind under all the pressure and stress. Basically, every time you make a decision, the following main points have to be considered:
and last, but not least...
90% of my waking life is devoted to thoughts about remodeling or "So You Think You Can Dance" (separate blog entry on that later). Every day, it's something new that we have to think about or make a final decision or purchase on. Peter wants to know if I sent Greg the specifications for the shower valve. Greg wants to see what tiles we're thinking about using. Are we going with a clawfoot tub or not? New or used? Can we go pick up the tub today or tomorrow? How are we going to do that? Have I found a toilet to match the sink? Should the sink be 30 inches off the ground or 34? Should the trim in the hallway match the trim in the library? Should the door open this way or the other way? You wouldn't believe the number of details you have to consider. I thought building from scratch would be easier because it would free you up to do exactly what you want. Well, unless you've really, truly thought about EXACTLY what you want, you're in for a lot of head-scratching and sleeping on it.
I am a pretty indecisive person. Even when I know exactly what I want, I still have to research extensively to confirm I've made the right choice and not one based on flawed information. Sometimes, I uncover information that suggests I've made a bad choice. In those instances, I look some more to find more supporting evidence for my initial case. :) Imagine doing this for every last thing. Normally, I love shopping. I love shopping more than some people love their kids. I enjoyed the prospect of shopping for the house immensely...for about a day. That was before I actually started doing it.
To ease some of the pain (and because I was coming up short in the research department for a number of items), I signed up for Consumer Reports. Frankly, they aren't as thorough in their reports as you'd think they would be. Summaries are nice, but I need more ratings! I need to justify why I picked this faucet and that toilet and I needed the research yesterday!
Lately, I send more email to manufacturers and distributors than I do to friends, family, or coworkers. I've never completed so many online forms before. Nor have I ever received responses as inane...
<TRUE STORY>
I completed a customer support form on the Price Pfister website asking if a particular showerhead could be ceiling-mounted. (The showerhead that matches my favorite sink faucet has a curved arm from which the showerhead hangs and I was thinking there might be a fitting that allows you to mount just the head and not the arm.) The response:
Yes, it can be mounted on the ceiling if that is the type of installation that you want to use. Please be advised that the shower arm that comes with this unit may not sit well be mounted on the ceiling as the angle that it is designed may cause it to have to have the shower head facing upwards.
Gee, thanks, asshole. Do you really think I want the spray to hit the ceiling instead of my head?? First, I was pissed because the guy was such a smart-aleck. Then, I laughed really hard and ran around retelling the story, illustrative pictures included, to everyone who cared to listen.
</TRUE STORY>
It's exhausting and exasperating. It really is. Thankfully, Peter thought of a brilliant division of labor and creativity: I "own" the basement bathroom and he "owns" the main floor bathroom. For some reason, the smallest rooms are the most difficult ones to outfit. Once upon a time, I would not have gone for this kind of thing, but I've learned to trust my husband's design decisions. We're sharing the rest of the work thus far. He designed the cabinet layout in the kitchen, I tweaked it, and then we tweaked it together a little bit more. I had a couple extra days off right around Fourth of July and I used the Friday before his parents came into town to drive around to flooring stores. I've been all over the Eastside and Seattle taking photos and picking up sample boards to bring home. When Peter comes with me to the flooring stores, he does the talking so that I can nose around and not be bothered.
We're still contributing opinions and, in my case, research (because I'm a control freak) to each others pet projects. Peter is committed to white 1" hex tile in the main floor bathroom, but I'm the one who's insisting it be unglazed for authenticity and because that's what I've read you're supposed to use. I'm also the one who suggested silver hex tile as an accent/border, but because of that, I'm the one contacting manufacturers to find out if they offer the right color and sheets of tile. We may have to settle for a grey and we may have to pluck the tiles from sheets of field tile if we don't find the right border sheets.
All this has turned me into a real slob. I've gone to work in dirty clothes (dirty from packing and moving) and without showering at least four times in the past two weeks. My car smells like baby wipes because I'm always wiping construction or moving dust and debris off my hands. Thank you, Wet Ones. I've worn glasses to kung fu twice this week (a big no-no) because I don't have contacts on me or at the house. I haven't done laundry since we moved in with Roger and Gina and I only brought two pairs of jeans with me. Looks like I might have to do some clothes shopping if I want clean clothes to wear... Hey! I knew the old me was still hiding in there somewhere. 7月7日 The Money PitBefore we bought our house, Peter made me watch "The Money Pit." I'm glad he did. We got a great deal on our house and put hours of sweat, blood, and tears into it. I might have thought we had some hard times in the process had I not seen Shelley Long endure much worse.
Three and a half years later, we're starting to come to our senses. Actually, the truth is that we've apparently got money burning holes into our pockets. That's the only way I can rationalize not doing this basement remodel ourselves. Well...I suppose we also spent the better part of a year on the attic and it looks like shit. You simply cannot patch a three-quarter inch gap in the drywall that runs the length of the house.
I actually think we could do the drywall in the basement, but Peter won't hear of it. If only he'd hear me out... we can cut all the stuff right there in the room and we don't have the same weird angles to accommodate. No walkie-talkies to communicate measurements. No accounting for the steep slope and narrow width of the attic stairs. We could have spent several thousand dollars to hire drywall professionals. That used to sound like a really big number. In retrospect, I wish we had hired someone else to do the attic so we could still possess enough naivete to rush headlong into the basement project ourselves. Let's just say it's costing a bit more than a couple thousand dollars...
I had the good sense to ask not one, but three professionals--our realtor, our financial advisor, and our contractor--whether we should proceed with the remodel or if we should just sell the house. To my surprise, they all said we should stay put and invest the money in the house. They told us that even if the remodel cost X amount of dollars, we could sell the remodeled house for Y amount of dollars and make Z dollars in profit. With all those dollar signs making it hard to see straight, I agreed to hire an architect and a contractor. So, here we are.
We decided this past winter that we would get the remodeling done over the summer. We very nearly missed our summer projection when we found out in May that putting a deck on the back of the house would require a geo-tech survey that couldn't be completed until AUGUST. This was only one of the many things that we've had to cut. We have been cutting things back left and right. First, we scrapped plans for the studio and two-car garage in the back. (It was going to cost nearly as much as everything else combined.) We also scrapped plans to reconfigure the stairs up to the attic and down to the basement. They're staying where they are, although the rise over run ratio is being brought up to code on both sets. We scrapped plans to rebuild the chimney (at least temporarily). I'm in love with the fireplace and feel that we have to have one, but the high price tag means we'll have a faux fireplace and no chimney for awhile. Most recently, we scrapped plans for a sauna in the basement bathroom. It was taking up too much room, but still wouldn't be nearly as spacious as I had imagined. I agreed to sacrifice it only if it meant we could have an open shower (no curtain, no glass, no door).
We first met with the architect in February, but didn't start on construction until three weeks ago. Yet, somehow, we'd already spent a lot of money by the time the crew broke ground. Architects are pricey. It's a good thing Peter can draw because he's spent his own time drawing up drafts for the changes we've made since getting underway.
We're paying the contractor by the week and it's an interesting way to do business. I like it because we always know how much is left in the budget and we can always tell them to start wrapping things up if the till is looking empty and we still have a hole in the roof. (Thankfully, there actually won't be any holes in the roof because there was no budget for that, but you know what I mean.)
It often feels like work is not getting done quickly enough. There are usually four guys on site, not including the contractor, and I'm always thinking, "Okay... So, what are you going to do next week?" Last week, we were there for two hours and two of the guys hung out the ENTIRE TIME, smoking cigarettes while we discussed some changes to the downstairs bathroom with the contractor and architect. One of the guys will be doing the tiling, so I can understand why he would need to be part of the conversation, but the other guy could have been framing some walls or something. Part of me wanted to grab the nail gun or the saw myself and start hammering and hacking away just to make a point. The only guys working during that two hours were Pat and Biff (and some day laborer??), who were pulling down the bricks from the chimney. By the way, I love that one of the guys on the crew goes by "Biff". I thought that name was reserved for comic book characters from the fifties.
In the first week, we were home a fair amount as we shuttled our possessions out of the house. It seemed like the guys were there only for a few hours in the morning. The rest of the time, they were taking things to the dump, buying materials, or, as it turns out, on another job site. If only they weren't charging us for more hours than it seems they're working, I'd be pleased as punch with the progress.
The first week, they broke up half the concrete pad in the garage and smoothed out the dirt in preparation for a new bathroom. They leveled the concrete in the rest of the basement. They sealed the concrete walls so they won't leak in the winters. They took out the furnace and water heater. They took out the old heating ducts and put up new ones. They also started framing out some walls and putting up temporary walls.
The second week, they took out all the old plumbing and demolished the bathroom on the main floor. This required them to break up a huge, heavy cast iron tub and to confront some seriously scary wasps' nests in the bathroom wall. They also took out the stairs to the basement and then rebuilt them. They also put in the new sewer stack and the pipes for the downstairs bathroom. They also got started taking down the chimney.
The third week, they took down the rest of the chimney and took apart the slate surround I installed in the fireplace. They did some more framing and also replaced the main beam supporting the house so that we can have a full height ceillings in the basement. I don't think they did anything else this past week, but a couple of the guys took both Tuesday and Wednesday off for the holiday. Supposedly, they'll be on-site Saturday and Sunday to make up the time, but we'll see about that.
This weekend, we have to empty our fridge and kitchen cabinets so they can take those out. They'll also be taking out the wall separating the kitchen from the diningroom and the wall separating the diningroom from the guest room so that we'll have a bigger kitchen/dining area. We'll be repurposing the cabinets and putting them in our new laundry room. Just another one of the clever ways we're trying to save money.
I wish we could save money by doing certain projects ourselves, like the tiling or installing the laminate flooring, but I suspect we won't have the opportunity to do that. At $60 an hour, that guy had better tile FAST. Initially, the contractor said we could pitch in anytime our progress or lack thereof didn't impede his crew's, but it's starting to sound like anything his crew doesn't do can't be warrantied. This makes sense, but I can imagine a future where there's a problem with something and he claims, "Ah, but it wasn't the work that my guys did; it's the work that you did that caused this problem. I'm not fixing it." As though I would do a bad job on my new bathroom... But, anyway.
Hiring out has been both liberating and really frustrating. I like having the freedom to spend my time how I want. We've lost entire summers to home remodeling projects, but we'll be swimming and tubing this year! I feel like I have so little control over what happens. It doesn't help that they all seem to think it's a boy's club and I'm just visiting. I've taken woodworking and am perfectly comfortable using just about any power tool. (This is what happens when your husband swoons over Amy-Lynn from earlier seasons of Trading Spaces. I guess this is also what happens when you buy a fixer where just about everything needs to be re-done.)
Because I know what level of skill and time goes in to most projects that they're doing, I sometimes wonder if it shouldn't go faster or be cheaper. Yes, the walls are framed beautifully, but I suspect they're using higher quality lumber than we did and that makes a huge difference. And why is only half the basement framed after three weeks? The stack of wood they brought over the first week doesn't appear to be any lower.
Then, when the tiling guy semi-jokingly told us he'd quit if we asked him to do the tile a particular way, I couldn't help but say, "What's the big deal? You figure out where to start, you snap some lines, you lay the tile. Right?" All the guys had a good laugh over that one, but I think I know what I'm talking about. I also think they underestimate us sometimes. I don't claim that I could figure out the perfect slope for the shower floor, but I sure as hell could tile the shower walls.
When I complimented them on their framing work, one of the guys actually said, "Yeah, the wood's new and clean." I was referring to the technical aspects of the job, but sure, whatever. It looks nice because the wood's new and clean and not because the lumber is unwarped, not because the nails went in cleanly, not because the angles are all exactly 90 degrees, and definitely not because each stud is exactly 24 inches on center. I'm positively won over by the clean studs.
I wish this could all happen for less money and time. It's shocking how much these guys make. It makes me wonder why I went to college instead of becoming a plumber or a tiler. At the same time, I am very happy not to be fully clothed, swinging a sledgehammer in a 110-degree attic for yet another summer. It's funny that we sort of embarked on this project with the knowledge that we could make a lot of money selling the house when it's done. We could have sold the house and made money even without doing another thing. We've seen plenty of dumpy places up and down our street sell for a good hundred and fifty thousand more than we paid for ours. More important than the money we could make is the vision we have for our little house. It's got a lot of potential. I'm sure that when this current project is done, we'll already be talking about new plans. I don't know how we'll ever leave! 4月5日 Scare-a-moucheWhen I say "springtime," what comes to mind? Blue skies, bunnies, tulips, and daffodils, right? For me, not anymore.
Saturday morning/afternoon, I woke up and found four big flies hanging out on the screen of the window on the north side of our bedroom. I peered at them through my one open eye, puzzled briefly over how they might have gotten in, and then went downstairs. About an hour later, I went back upstairs and saw ten flies clinging to the window screen and glass. My skin crawling, I went down to the garage and dragged Peter upstairs so he could share in my disgust, perhaps offer an explanation, and pop the screen to let them out.
A tenuous connection between my habitual slovenliness and the appearance of the flies quickly formed in my mind. Reluctant to do the piles of laundry that I thought might somehow be responsible (lest I find a dead mouse or maggots somewhere in there), I took out the (non-food) trash upstairs and then got to scrubbing the floors downstairs. I clean floors on my hands and knees. It's tedious work, but it's the only way to get a floor really clean, so I do the floors twice a year at most. (I sweep and vacuum regularly, as well as spot clean, though, so quit it with your clucking.)
Anyhow, by the time I was done with the wood floors, I had used up all the rags and had killed at least two hours, so I threw the rags into the wash and committed myself to doing the tile the next day. After I showered, I went back upstairs. This time, there were at least twenty new flies. They had to be new flies, right?? This time, Peter popped the screen out and left it out. Before we went to bed, he removed the screen from one of the 4x4 skylights, too, and cranked that thing open as far as it would go. The idea was that all the flies would vacate by morning. I'm sure some left, but others took their place and now we could no longer be sure if they were coming from inside the house or out.
This is when we started to come up with theories as to where the flies were coming from. Peter blamed the squirrel that we had held responsible for the loud scratching sounds in our rafters several weeks prior. The squirrel had probably died shortly after it made itself at home and had surely become host to a family of maggots in the intervening weeks. Our bedroom isn't fully sealed because of the DIY drywall project gone awry, so this was plausible, but there were no obvious places where I could see the flies streaming out in droves. I even sat in the bedroom for awhile, just watching. I would turn around and there would suddenly be ten more flies. They appeared like magic. Wretched, nauseating magic.
The worst was when I opened the door to our bedroom mid-day Sunday, looked up before I even put my foot on the first step and saw, I kid you not, at least fifty flies swarming the window. I promptly closed the door. I needed to take a breath and steel myself before I marched up there, put my hand into the fire and popped open the screen to let them out. They were all really listless, so it wasn't like they buzzed madly around my arms and face, but it was still disgusting. A couple flew out right away, but I had to encourage the rest by literally prodding them. That was the grossest part. No, I take that back. The grossest part came when I said to hell with kindness and karma and started using the broom as a makeshift flyswatter. I crippled and stunned a lot of flies, but those buggers are scrappy. I resorted to picking them up by the legs or wings, whatever I could get a hold of, before they could valiantly flip over and try to walk or fly away from me.
Peter found the real flyswatter in the basement for me and I went to town in the kitchen and diningroom. We had a number of flies on the main floor, too, but only ever ten at a time. It became obvious pretty quickly that they were originating upstairs. I made an effort to release as many as I could, but I squished a bunch of them, too.
Yesterday, I noticed we had the vacuum upstairs and started vacuuming them up. I had begun worrying that all the flies I left alive were simply mating nonstop so they could produce more fly babies. So, I sucked up every last one. But still more would appear. This was maddening. By Sunday afternoon, my floors were sparkling, the sinks and counters were spotless and, yet, the flies made me feel like I was living in some twisted alternate universe where each fly I killed had twenty avengers. I wondered if I could ever win.
And still, I woke up hopefully every morning. This morning, there were still flies, but only about twenty total upstairs and down. I sucked and swatted. I must have switched the vacuum on three times before I left for work this morning. When I walked in the house tonight, I put down my purse, rolled up my sleeves and marched into the kitchen. There were none. Huh. Okay, they must be congregating upstairs. I threw the door open. None there either. I didn't see a single one. I had read that one fly can lay up to 500 eggs and that an adult fly will live for up to one month, so I was prepared to do battle for what could have been another ugly 28 days.
Now, it looks like I don't have to. Unless, of course, the flies are indulging in bacchanalia inside the vacuum. 2月24日 The caution tape comes downIf anyone wants to see our craptastic attic, this Monday is probably your only opportunity, not that you should expect that any spectacular construction happened up there in all the time you weren't allowed. Remember that we "finished" (and I use that term loosely) the attic ourselves and the especially tricky spots still aren't drywalled over because we never figured out how...and we lost all motivation to finish the other parts. We're getting measurements done Tuesday for an as-built model of our house and therefore need to clean the heck out of the attic this weekend before we allow the architect up there! 2月20日 Our (impending) extreme home makeoverWe said we would embark on the long overdue project of finishing the basement this winter. Luckily, Seattle winters give us a big window.
After weeks of punctuated plumbing drama (water seeping up through the concrete because of super-saturation due to near-record rainfall and the main stack clogging up because they're old), we got a plumber. This enlistment of professional services seems to have had a snowball effect.
Peter called up a contractor last Thursday and then had him over Friday morning. We spent two hours showing him the house and talking about our ideas for it. And, since he was listening avidly, our long-term dreams for the house. We went over what work we had done ourselves, what needed to be improved, expanded, etc. At the end of the two hours, we seemed to have unofficially signed on...and our long-term dreams have turned into short-term dreams!
Thinking about the new basement, new bathrooms (we're going to have three of them, up from one!), and the addition of a two-car garage/shop/studio made us all that much more aware of how little attention we've paid to the house since the attic remodel. Instead of picking up the sledgehammer, we picked up our wallets and headed to Yuppie Remodeling Row (a.k.a. 1st ave S) to see about new light fixtures. Something about spending thousands of dollars on new work made it seem unthinkable to continue living with our fifteen dollar light fixtures from Lowe's.
So, we headed to the Seattle Lighting Company's outlet store. We were there for about five, ten minutes max before we decided we could handle a trip to their regular store in Pioneer Square. We headed north on 1st Ave S for just a few blocks before we started driving past all kinds of home improvement boutiques with lots of eye candy.
"Ooh! What's Rejuve? You wanna see if they have lights?"
"Yeah!"
Screeeeeech!
I pull a quick right and before we know it, we're in a restoration wonderland. When we couldn't decide between an Art Deco look or Craftsman style, we agreed to pick up and continue onward with our original plan.
Seattle Lighting Company was an eighty-nine degree sweatbox, but they sure had a lot of light fixtures, many of which we joked about buying as gigantor look-at-me-walk-around-but-don't-touch art installations. We circled the showroom a number of times before committing to a big departure from our current setup. We found a ceiling fixture and three wall sconces that we thought we could coordinate with two shades and fixtures we really liked back at Rejuve. It was a risky move since we weren't looking at the whole set side-by-side.
After we had everything up on the walls at home, it looked nice enough, but I wasn't as jazzed as I thought I would be about the changes. So, I suggested new paint. The lavender-grey walls really seemed to clash with the new lights. There was some heated discussion as Peter and I tried unsuccessfully to convey to one another what green color we each envisioned. Colors are hard to describe!
We got one quart of a green I really liked and then went home to test it out. It was a little too yellow, so we chose a similar color from a different swatch. Peter gave me the go-ahead to buy a full gallon of it. Tina accompanied me back to Lowe's. When we picked up the paint, I looked at the sample drop on the lid and said, "Just wait. It's going to look so different when it dries." Paint is funny like that. When we got home, however, the dried drop of paint still looked like mint chocolate... I popped the lid, held the paint chip over it and declared, "They screwed up. I have to go back."
The guy at the paint counter claimed incupability, explaining unconvincingly that the finish was to blame. I fought him on this for a bit, but eventually gave in when he offered to exchange my can for a gallon of the same color in a semi-gloss finish. Peter and I painted two and a half walls before he sat down and examined our progress. There was no denying how ugly the effect was. The paint looked wet and globby and did not flatter our plaster walls at all. I heaved a big sigh and picked up my keys.
Seeing how sad and broken I was, Peter suggested we tried the first color again to see what it looked like under the new lights. Of course, the first color turned out to be just what we wanted, almost identical to the color we had already slathered on the walls, but not at all shiny. Having averted a total meltdown, we slapped the paint on until we were all out. When it had dried and we'd confirmed it wasn't completely disgusting, we tested out the contrast with our frames and furniture and the lights at all levels of brightness.
It looked even better this morning. Of course, we've now set in motion another snowball. The paint in the diningroom, foyer, and hall will have to be updated. We will also have to get drapes, a new rug, and reupholster the hand-me-down chair...
At least now, we can't be accused of being unpatriotic liberals. We're single-handedly restoring the American economy, one throw pillow at a time! 11月17日 4:28 amThe dogs are barking furiously and are in a frenzy that I've never seen before. I can hear them running up and down (and up and down) the stairs from our bedroom to the main floor of the house. I try to shush them, but they won't stop. In fact, they seem to get more frantic. I hear them throwing themselves against the door at the bottom of the stairs, but it won't open.
The dogs won't calm down, so I crawl out of bed. At 4:28 in the morning, I'm not too clear on what my plan of action is. I think I'll go close the door to the basement so that they at least don't manage to get outside and continue barking there. My reflexes are slow and the dogs push past me and head straight for the basement. I have no idea what's provoking them, but at least it doesn't seem to be an intruder around the corner in the livingroom. I chase after them, begging them not to go outside. I open the window so I can holler at them from inside the house. They're still barking, so I start to run down the stairs, thinking that I'm going to have to go into the dog kennel and physically haul them back inside. And then I stop.
The big, zipped bag of dog food is on the landing. How did it get there? Two steps down, there's a dark figure! Faster than I can blink, one dog dashes below the figure and the other dog places herself above it. The dogs are circling, barking, and lunging. I'm afraid they'll fall off the stairs. Then, something does fall off the stairs. It knocks over a metal folding chair. I guess the crash causes a distraction because then the dogs and the dark figure dash to the bottom of the stairs. I stand on the landing, paralyzed. Whose dog is that?? It looks like Roo. Why is it in our house?? That's not a dog; it's a raccoon! That raccoon is huge!! Oh my God. What if the dogs kill the raccoon? What if the raccoon kills the dogs?? No, they can handle it. We might be showing off a raccoon carcass this weekend... This is crazy! There's going to be blood everywhere!
But nothing happens. The raccoon bolts for the dog door and leaves the same way it undoubtedly came. The dogs follow it, but they stop barking almost immediately. They come back upstairs, sniffing loudly the whole way. I find and slip in the barricade for the dog door, in case that raccoon decides to come back with a posse. I inspect the dogs. No blood. They seem pleased. I praise them and give them treats. I pet them carefully. I wonder what diseases raccoons carry.
Everyone's awake and talking about how brave the pups are. We wonder why they didn't actually attack the raccoon. Maybe they were waiting for the human to shoot the raccoon. Or, maybe they are simply the sweethearts we've known they were all along! Either way, they are the bravest dogs I know and I am so very prideful and honorable to call them mine. 10月11日 Grocery UtletYesterday morning, my husband hugged me and said, "You smell like the old Red Apple." What?! "No, that's good. Better than the new Grocery Outlet."
Not that we've been to the new Grocery Outlet. I get the sense that we're already boycotting it. Peter gives me the death stare every time I dare to mention those two words in his presence.
I suppose I should be calling it the Grocery Utlet, though. On its second day, the O in Outlet was already burned out. Peter expressed nothing but dismay, but I thought it was funny as hell. Funny because it was so fitting. It's not like we should have expected anything less. "They're never going to fix that. It's going to be Grocery Utlet forever!" He's absolutely right.
You see, we predicted great things would happen when the old Red Apple went out of business. "Someone is going to turn that place into a destination! Maybe it will be a skating rink or a bowling alley." Well, it's a destination, alright. That place has been nothing but balloons and bright lights since it opened on Saturday. It's no wonder it's attracted such a crowd. With that green and white-striped circus tent paint job and those larger than life lighted signs, the Grocery Outlet is visible from outer space. (If I'm ever kidnapped and find myself in an unfamiliar place, I'll thank my lucky stars that I have the garish red glow of "GROCERY OUTLET" as the beacon that will lead me to my home, sweet home.)
The last thing we thought would happen when Red Apple went out of business was that we'd have another grocery store. The new Safeway opened months before Red Apple closed its doors and had clearly siphoned off the few remaining customers. Even so, the Madrona Community group tried to lobby for Metropolitan Market. PCC was interested the location, but decided to pass it up. Anything would be better than what we've got. It just screams of tackiness. Why couldn't they just have had a sign that said, "GROCERY" instead?
I feel a little guilty about being such a "yuppie," but I don't really feel that bad. Why? When Roger's Thriftway became Red Apple, the change was considered one of the negative side effects of gentrification. Anyone who ever shopped at the old Union Red Apple would tell you it was hardly a step up. After enduring that, we deserve better.
I suspect that demographic studies of Red Apple customers showed that they are okay with buying moldy cheddar, milk past its sell-by date, and stale cereal, and that's how we ended up with Grocery Outlet - Bargains Only! If Red Apple hadn't charged so much for their often expired products, I would have shopped there more. Problem is, now that my sub-par and off-brand groceries are bargains, I really can't shop there out of loyalty to my husband. Also, no Piecora's, but that's another story for another time. 9月27日 Halloween costume idea - Martha Stewart?For the first time since Beth's room became a guest room, we are having people stay in it! I am really excited about this because it's kind of the first room in the house that is almost fully decorated the way we eventually want it. Peter and I don't have too many out-of-town visitors. The ones who do come to town stay in hotels, so I'm looking forward to our houseguests even though they aren't really mine! The people who are coming to stay are friends of Tina's who may or may not bring gossip back with them to Santa Ana and I want to leave a good impression.
Stereotypes I have about people from Orange County (don't worry, I'm from there so it's okay for me to say these things):
Our 1928 quarter-Cape will likely strike them as old and rundown. We do not have a big-screen TV. The car that I drove in high school is now officially a beater. (I'm lucky my husband and neighbors haven't had it towed.) I haven't deluded myself into thinking these out-of-towners will perpetuate the rumor that I am married to Bill Gates' right-hand man*, but I don't want them to go back and revive those other rumors that I am a druggie drop-out** either. I figure my best chance of sending them off with happy thoughts is to do my best Martha Stewart impression as hostess. I like the idea of being a good hostess, but am severely lacking in the discipline to do things required of a good hostess. For example: keeping the house clean so guests can drop in at any time, keeping the pantry stocked with cookies and drink mixers for sweet-tooths and lushes, and periodically offering people water during their stay.
Hostess for a day or two or three, though, I can do. I think of it as a manageable project not requiring too much advance planning and fairly little post-mortem. Also, it gives me an excuse to dip into my hobbies. For example, I can do paper-crafts by making a "Welcome" card and putting together a pretty notebook of instructions for the house (eg., How do I watch TV?, Where is the trash can?, and What do I do with those dogs?). I can cook and present one great meal. Best of all, I can shop for all the missing items that I need to make these things happen.
So far, I've put together a snack basket with sweets and savories and a toiletries basket with sample size items in case they forgot anything from home. I've also set up the bedside table with a reading lamp, a guidebook (Seattle City Walks), a notepad and pen, and a travel alarm clock. I still need to get at least one other Seattle guidebook (OC folks typically aren't into walking...) and some foldout road maps. Out-of-towners tend to find the signage, one-ways, and narrow streets a little difficult to navigate, so getting this part done is key.
The Welcome card is also important (to me), but I've already got a design in mind and the materials, so that's as good as done. I also have grand ideas about prettying up the documents I already have for housesitters, but I'll be lucky to get around to fleshing them out with minutiae. The presentation work will have to come later. Most of the guest room sheets and blankets are freshly washed and ready to go, but I still have to find an appropriate duvet cover and come up with a solution for where all the couch pillows will go. The sleeper couch is awesome, in that it's easy to pull out and is surprisingly comfortable, but it also has a bunch of pillows that need a home when it's converted into a bed...
The houseguests come on Saturday and I have three evenings of kung fu and one evening of shopping for a friend between now and then. I'm not going to stress, though, because the houseguests don't know what I had planned so they won't know what they're missing if I don't get everything done!
* A few years ago, there were rumors at my old high school that I had gotten hitched to Bill Gates' right-hand man and we were fabulously wealthy. I never would have found out about this had Candice, my youngest sister, not gone to visit my old physics teacher along with her boyfriend-at-the-time. One of his students, with some measure of awe, asked Candice if she was my sister!
** Sometime during my first year of college, there were rumors going around back home that I had become a druggie and had been forced to leave school because of my bad grades. Admittedly less glamorous than the Bill Gates rumor, but funnier because a number of the people circulating this rumor ended up on academic probation while I made it onto the dean's list! (Okay, so I only made it onto the list for one semester because the rest of the time I was busy doing drugs, dropping out, and hooking up with rich, technologically-inclined guys! :D) 7月5日 For the love of FreedomThe weekend started out slowly, with Peter immersed in the Jade Empire and with me dedicating some time to several Netflix we received in the mail months ago. But, with a three-day weekend, the build-up to fun is bound to be slow.
On Sunday, we met up with Roger, Gina, John, and Zandra at Central Cinema to see "The Killing", one of Stanley Kubrick's first films. I came to really enjoy film noir after seeing several classics as part of a Narrative in Film class in college, and was really excited to see this one, especially since we'd be seeing it at Central Cinema. We saw a couple movies there before the theater officially opened and I was itching to see something at the theater since they put in real theater seats, a sound system, and restaurant.
I had fond memories of the Parkway in Oakland, but I'd say that Central Cinema will likely take the Parkway's place in my heart. First of all, Central Cinema is new and, therefore, not totally skanky. The booth style seating could stand to be a little more comfortable for movie-viewing, but at least I don't have to worry about catching any STDs. Second, the food and drinks are totally gourmet compared to what I remember about the Parkway. My pizza was delicious and not a greasy mess, so I have to give props to Kevin Spitzer, whose influence as a former baker was very apparent. It was a shame not to be able to buy pitchers, but one pint of Cream Ale was all I could really take in the end. Third, I can walk to Central Cinema. I wish more businesses would open down the hill on MLK, but I'll happily walk uphill to Central Cinema any day.
"The Killing" was much funnier than I expected it to be. I doubt that it was originally intended to be funny, but 1956's depiction of drama is bound to be funny in this day and age. Shirley was my favorite character. As Zee pointed out after the movie, "Kubrick's women are always dumb, mean, or raped." Shirley's best quality was, without a doubt, her ability to be unflinchingly mean.
On Monday, I got to play out my secret fantasy of having a July 4th barbecue. Though we've lived in our house through three 4ths, we've never hosted a July 4th barbecue. Usually, we go out to Roper Ranch and light a Christmas tree on fire. This year, there was to be no such spectacle, so I threw together a last-minute party. And for a last-minute, small gathering, it turned out to be a rollicking good time.
Peter saved the day by insisting on hotdogs and hamburgers, which I was ready to forgo in my attempt to be adult and gourmet. Little did I know that July 4th is not complete without such fare. How truly un-American of me. Beth and Mark brought the party games (Smashball and the indestructible piñata). John and Zee brought firewood to keep us warm. Tina and Matt brought strawberry pie and watermelon (another July 4th must-have). Roger and Gina brought fireworks to make the night complete.
About being "adult" and "gourmet"--I don't care how old you are, the highlights of a July 4th party are about the simple things: 1) beating up on a piñata; 2) scrambling for candy; 3) chips and dip; 4) pie and ice cream; and 5) aiming Roman candles at paratrooper fireworks.
It was low-key and low-stress (thank you, Bosch, for the Quick Wash feature!), and therefore, a perfect evening. Best of all, I only have one mosquito bite to remember the day by.
P.S. Peter says I neglected to mention the "arbor incident" in which he nearly lost his life and the incident in which the deck caught on fire. I screamed when I thought my husband was going to be decapitated, but the deck? Meh. That can be fixed. 4月12日 Red, Riding, HoodTonight, I took my red Huffy Surfside out for its maiden cruise. I felt like I was nine years old again, but this time, I had the privilege of being able to leave the confines of my own block! It was great!! I raced down 27th all of two miles to Mark and Beth's. It couldn't possibly have taken me even ten minutes to get there. Aside from a small group of kids hanging out in the middle of the street, practicing for when they can be adults hanging out in the middle of the street, the hood was totally desolate on my ride out at 9:15pm and back home at 11pm. It was bitter cold, but I hardly noticed. It wasn't until the stark contrast of the heat indoors (no doubt a toasty 85 degrees Fahrenheit) hit me that my mittenless fingers really started tingling. No matter. The price was well worth it. Give me a trip with little to no gradient on a night when it's not raining and I'm there, pegged pants, shit-eating grin, and bike in tow! |
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