Countdown to the New Old House: This Is How the Sausage Is Made

Thought I'd provide a little tour. Starting at the front door: check out our mail carrier's helpful reminder to himself. "VAC," I believe, stands for "vacant."

Lovely. Thanks for advertising.

Here's our red tag.

Hopefully it's coming out of the window TODAY, Wednesday the 11th of January. HOPEFULLY.

This is how you walk through the living room and dining room:

I will go as far as the plywood rectangle on the right.  And then I stop, retreat, and enter through the back door.  Although entering from the rear has its own unique challenges.  THIS is our home office:

The home office is affectionately referred to in our family as "The Island of Misfit Fixtures."



MESSAGE TO CONTRACTORS:  the ceiling fan can go to ReStore, because, frankly, I don't have a place to put it.  BUT I WANT THE PULL-DOWN SPICE RACK.  That sucker can, and will, be repurposed.  Possibly in my new craft closet.

Hey, look!  I have an electrical outlet over my mantel now!

Thanks, City of Fort Worth, for requiring an electrical outlet . . . um, every so many linear feet.  I didn't pay attention when Spouse told me how many feet.  All I know is that I have a plethora of (THREE-PRONG!) outlets now, including one that will permit me to illuminate my holiday garland.  Woo hoo!  And, yes, I am excited about three-prong outlets, and you would be, too, if you lived in a house that was pushing the century mark.  I already had them in some rooms, but not in others.

Not quite as thrilling:  the inexplicable chunk taken out of the molding and wallboard in the living room.

It looks like the work of a drill . . . but why was a drill anywhere near the ceiling?  Did they accidentally drill DOWNWARDS when they were pulling electric in the attic?  Seriously, people, there's enough sheetrock to patch and baseboards to replace without you screwing up other junk.

An example of an area where a sheetrock patch is required:



THIS hole excites me, because . . . THIS hole is where the old junction box used to be.  The box that became superfluous when they built the addition and moved the fuse box outside.  The box that, years ago, I was informed could not be removed, because it contained capped-off wires, unless we completely redid the electric.  HA!  Gauntlet accepted.  Electric redone, and awkwardly place junction box GONE.  GONE, BABY, GONE!   Along with the hideous ugly metal door that covered it.  Sayonara!

Remember reading in the Bible about Joseph's "kitchen of many colors"?  Well, here it is in all of its glory!

What's that you say?  It was a coat?  Okay, but you have to admit that, right now, my kitchen has MANY HORRIBLE CLASHING COLORS.  You have:  the pumpkin orange (that would be the current wall color); the Pepto-Bismol pink that the owner before our seller favored; the Martha Stewart green that was Owner Twice-Removed's go-to when the Ugly Paint Store ran out of pink; some segments of unfinished wood; the wallpaper (contributed by the immediately prior owner) that we left behind the refrigerator when we texturized and painted because we were too lazy to move the refrigerator; and the tile backsplash that looks absolutely ridiculous floating in mid-wallspace.  It's all going bye-bye.  I am told that it's entirely common to install cabinets on top of whatever wall surface or color happens to be there, but I am seriously considering having everything textured and painted the same way so that some theoretical future buyer, should they need to move a cabinet or appliance, will be surprised and pleased to find a kitchen of ONE uniform color.  It's my little way of paying it forward.

Here's the hallway leading out of the kitchen.  What to look at first?  The horribly chewed-up door molding in the foreground?  The horribly chewed paint in the lower corner of the wall?  The fact that the doorway molding (original to the house) was separated from the wall when the baseboards came out?  It's all being repaired and repainted, people - so focus on that gorgeous LVL board that was installed to shore up the original beams.  I HAVE LVL BOARD - just like the people on HGTV! 



Look!  An electrician signed the wall.  Because, apparently, Blackmon Mooring did not box up the chalk on the picture molding, and the electrician mistook the entire wall as a chalkboard.  (Actual chalkboard to which the chalk related now hangs in the foyer here at the apartment.)  Or maybe he was just REALLY PROUD of the work that he did in the hall (although I note that, while he has removed one of the three uneven plug and switch covers on that wall, he didn't straighten up the remaining two . . . and so the "sheetrock patch" portion of the punch list expands).

Perhaps he read the part above about everything getting repaired and repainted.

Here you see boxes and boxes of hardwood flooring stacked in a bedroom, getting acclimated to the house.

  

Small problem:  the wood inside turned out to be the wrong color.



Wood on the left:  the original wood (as damaged by 130,000 gallons of water).  On the right:  some red s**t that does not remotely resemble the sample.  We took it back to the showroom, and they agreed.  Apparently, the manufacturer applied the stain to red oak instead of white oak.  We selected a darker shade that is supposed to camouflage variations in natural wood colors - but the manufacturer is also getting a stern talking-to.

While we were at the showroom, we visited our kitchen floor and held it up to a dark wood, similar to the lower cabinets. 



Then I saw a large slab of the granite I was planning to use and decided, once and for all, that I didn't like it.  Too yellow.  I have been living in denial, but no more.

The quick trip to the showroom became a LONG trip, but I THINK that we have settled on an engineered granite (Cambria) product that brings out the reddish-brown in the lower cabinets, the putty color on the upper cabinets and the pale green that is going on the walls.

Yeah, I know, it looks busy in the small sample - but I have high hopes.  Bigger sample is on the way.

Spouse drove the (female) showroom rep crazy with his various, way-out-there product suggestions.  It was refreshing to listen to someone else tell him,  "Listen.  You have a lot of pattern in the floor, and a two-tone cabinet thing going on, so - while the granite that you are holding in your hand is beautiful in the abstract - IT WILL COMPLETELY DERAIL YOUR KITCHEN, AND YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO YOUR WIFE, BECAUSE HER INSTINCTS ARE REALLY, REALLY GOOD."  Okay, I'm paraphrasing - but not a whole lot.

Spouse did resolve the backsplash dilemma, when he brought over a sample of a way-too-contemporary metallic tile.  On the BACK of that sample was a sample of a coordinating product utilizing the same tile in very thin widths, translating into a backsplash that is the correct color for our kitchen and that also has a little bit of modern flare to it, while still reading "traditional."  Consultant and I LOVED the B side of what Spouse picked (and Consultant and I rejected).

Spouse insists that all of his random stumbling-in-the-dark behavior up to that point was just a warm-up.  "I was working up to that backsplash."

Of course you were, honey.

Progress being made on all fronts. And sausage SLOOOOOOWLY being stuffed back into its casing.

Shadow Boxes Are a Gateway Craft

At least, that's what the twelve year-old tells me.  And  I guess he's not wrong.

First art project of last weekend:  these shadow boxes.

The boys' "old" bathroom featured initial canvases from Pottery Barn Kids, but the colors are wrong for the "new" bathroom.  Friend Robyn spotted these letter plaques at Hobby Lobby.  The price was right at $6 for the two of them.  But I wanted to beef them up a bit - so I bought two white shadow boxes on sale for $14.99 each at Joann, along with two sheets of dark brown mulberry scrapbook paper.  A little hot glue (and some McGyver action to make them project from the background for a three-dimensional effect), and we were done and done - for under $40 for the pair of them.

Next, I stenciled a canvas to hang on the same wall:

Not sure that I love it, but it's growing on me.

Then I painted the four canvases that will form the base of our Reading Rocks table centerpiece.  The inspiration book:  Polka-Bats and Octopus Slacks.  

Canvas #1:  "Kansas City Octopus."



I didn't get his head exactly right, but did I mention that I gave myself three and a half hours to finish all four?  And that I did everything freehand?  But, if asked, I will swear that I meant for my versions to look different.  You know, artistic license and all.

Canvas #2: "Funky Snowman."

Canvas #3:  "The Bathtub Driver."



Canvas #4:  "Mulligan Poker."



I screwed up his jaw.  Again: free-hand.  But this is probably my favorite one.  Can't really articulate why.  He just makes me happy.

Things I'm Digging: LEGO Brings Back the DC Crew

Oh.  My.

LEGO is bringing back Batman . . . and he's bringing some friends along.

Stumbled onto a press release for the LEGO 2012 DC Universe Super Heroes collection.  Which, among other products, includes these oversized, Bionicle-type buildable figures.

Oh.  My.  Indeed.  Over/under on how many sets follow us home from Super Target?  Gotta get 'em while they are available.

Momma has her eye on the Superman vs. Power Armor Lex set:

I could give a rat's patoot about Superman, Lex or his power armor, but I have to have a LEGO Wonder Woman.  End of story.

Apparently, a sequel to the LEGO Batman video game is coming out at some point this year - also featuring Wonder Woman.

I predict that that one will be purchased with allowance money the day that it is released.   Further prediction:  one dollar of allowance money will be applied in advance to buy a reservation card, thus guaranteeing that the game will be acquired the day that it is released.

Oh, boy, oh, boy.

Weekend of Jubilee

Stayed up late Friday night . . . then slept in.  UNTIL. 10. AM.  First time in at least five years - probably more like a decade.

Also stayed up late Saturday night as well, but couldn't sleep in due to church plans.  That's okay, though, 'cause I took an afternoon nap.  BOO YAH!  Sleeping in and napping in the same weekend.  Unheard of.

Took down the Christmas decorations Saturday morning.  Then sent the boys (big and little) to:  retrieve a ranch truck; shuttle the Christmas decorations back to the mother ship; return the truck; and do my grocery shopping.  That gave me a lot of time to myself (particularly because the trip out to my mom-in-law's turned into a trip to deliver her donation items to Goodwill, and I also have it on good authority that the big kid got to practice his driving - yes, he's only twelve, but if you start him out in the right place there's nothing that he can hit except cows, and they are pretty good about moving out of the way).

So I:

Made three pieces of art for the boys' bathroom, started experimenting with paper mache projects for Reading Rocks,and created my half of the ten-top table centerpiece that Friend Robyn and I volunteered to make on top of our general duties as decorations co-chairs.

Baked white chocolate gingerbread cookies.

Put up meals for the week (chicken paprikash, Rachael Ray's Indian summer chili, filling for quesadillas).

Cleaned a little - but only a little.

Did some billable work.

Watched football.

Read the first 100 pages of the second book in the "Percy Jackson & The Last Olympians" series (C's favorite book series, so I promised him that I would read them, and I have to say that I get why he likes them).

Finished two Picaboo scrapbooks - just have to put them in my online cart and apply my Groupon, and they will be in hand in five business days or less.

On Sunday, we popped in at my parents' after church and ended  up ordering in Chinese takeout.  My fortune cookie fortune told me to take note of the date that was three months away, because good things would happen on that date.  Took me a minute to do the math and realize that three months from 1/8/12 coincided with my birthday and Easter.

Pretty cool.

After taking my afternoon nap (BOO YAH!), I helped the Big Kid with his science project (engineering-based, focusing on methods of earthquake-proofing tall buildings).  Nothing like spending a couple of hours of quality time constructing skyscraper models with a twelve year-old to put the cherry on top of a weekend. (Seriously, I like stuff like that.)

Hoping that the week shapes up to be half as productive and enjoyable.

Countdown to the New Old House: Mad About Molding

For a change, I'm mad about something related to the house in the good sense of the word.

This, ladies and germs, is a 42" upper kitchen cabinet - primed only, and lacking a door, but will you look at that molding.

Hello, lover.

Once upon a time, I told Lamar the Cabinet Guy, "I really want crown molding," and I waved a sample image in his face for, like, a nanosecond.  It did not matter, because Lamar is THE CABINET WHISPERER.  In addition to being a mind reader and, also, the bomb diggity.

This is exactly what I had in mind.   And this is the molding that is going to make the rest of the crown molding in my house look sick.  I will probably spend a bazillion dollars upgrading other stuff to get it remotely in the vicinity of this molding.  But, right now, I don't care.

Imagine how excited I will be when there's an equally awesome door attached to this bad boy, and when everything is painted Benjamin Moore's "Refined."  Isn't that a fantastic name for a paint shade?  Makes you feel good about yourself for having selected it, since, you know, the paint reflects the purchaser.  (Okay, I made that up.)  "Refined?  Well, yes, I am.  Thank you so much for noticing."

I can't adequately describe "Refined."  It's technically a white, I think, but it's like one of those Farrow & Ball whites that look white against darker colors but stand on their own as a color in other circumstances.  I guess you could call it a gray, or a beige - or a greige.  But it definitely has some green in it.  Sometimes I think it's yellow.  I have it painted on a board (a piece of the maple that Lamar is using for the upper cabinets) next to a swath of the color that I am going to paint the kitchen walls, and I walk around the apartment and hold the board up to different light sources.  It appeals in all contexts.  Although I am terrified that I will hate it when I actually have a ton of it in my kitchen, but Lamar assures me that I made a good choice.  (He's a guy, so he doesn't use descriptors like "a greige with a greenish cast," but he did recognize it as "one of those whites that isn't really a white," which puts him far ahead of Spouse, who - bless his sweet little heart - only had the eight-crayon box as a child.)

Kitchen walls will be Benjamin Moore's "Wind Chime."  "Wind Chime" is one of those paint names that sounds pretty but isn't particularly descriptive.  I'll cut to the chase:  it's a cloudy pale green with some aqua in it, to harmonize with the adjacent dining room, which is a cloudy pale aqua with some green in it.  I am terrified that when I go in to buy the paint, or send someone to do it, I will slip up and request "Tea Leaf," which is a similar color that I have decided is too aqua and doesn't contain enough green.   Which is weird, because "Tea Leaf" actually has the word LEAF in it, so you would think that it would be greener, right?  I can remember the name "Tea Leaf," precisely because it has a context clue for green embedded in it.  I have to struggle to remember "Wind Chime," because, based on 41 years of observing wind, it doesn't seem to have any color associated with it whatsoever.

Maybe I should write "Wind Chime" in Sharpie Marker somewhere on my person so I won't forget it.   Oh, wait, I just blogged about it.  So perhaps I should write "January 7th blog post" on my person in Sharpie Marker, so I will remember where to look.

The name of the stain for the lower cabinets likewise doesn't match the color itself.  At all.  Yet, somehow, this makes me remember the name?  Because, seriously, people, my mother-in-law inhabits an Arts and Crafts ranch house straight outta Frank Lloyd Wright that is stacked to the rafters with Stickley furniture, and her son and I share her affinity for all things Mission and all things oak.  So believe me when I say that Sherwin Williams' "Mission Oak" is completely misnamed.  It's espresso.  Period, paragraph.  But it's what I want for the lower cabinets and the pantry.  And I can remember the name because it's "Mission Oak."

PJ went with me to Sherwin Williams.  He absorbed snippets of my discussion with the SW reps about "Mission Oak" (the name of the stain) and "Mission Oak on Cherry" (the relevant sample of the stain on the sample card, since the cabinets are cherrywood).  Specifically, he absorbed, and retained, the word "Cherry."  BECAUSE HE'S BUDDY THE ELF.

Lamar the Cabinet Guy:  What stain did you pick out?

Buddy [playing on the steps in the front yard while Lamar and I talk]:  Cherry.  I went with her, and she picked Cherry.  Like the fruit that they put on ice cream and in Sonic drinks.

God, I love that kid.  Now arriving:  the one-track mind.  One-track mind arriving on Track . . . well, I guess that would be Track One, huh?

I like cherries, too.  And I'm fairly sure that the molding on my cabinets will be the cherry on the sundae that is my new-old kitchen.

At a (Happy) Loss

No one in the immediate family is participating in a sporting event this weekend, nor are we planning to attend any. 

We don't have tickets to anything at all. 

No one's having a birthday party. 

I don't owe any organization any volunteer hours.

I am nonplussed.

Occasionally, I find myself looking forward to a weekend that, a few days out, appears unscheduled.  But then, inevitably, events start to stack up.

It is 3:57 pm on Friday.  And nothing is stacking.

And I'm rapidly progressing from nonplussed to giddy.

Okay, so I skipped lunch, meaning that I have to go to the mall on the way home to return the second of the Hoodie Buddies that the elves ordered the week prior to Christmas.  (Because, I am informed by the Ship-to-Store Gods, if I do not claim said item by the end of the day, they will "send it back."  But what does that MEAN?  I already paid for it.  Am I to assume that part of "sending it back" will involve crediting my card?  You know what they say about assuming.  Well, actually, about "assume."  Anyway, I am going into the store to take care of things.)

Then I am meeting Lamar the Cabinetmaker and Spouse at our actual house, where I will be introduced to my new cabinets.  Well, cabinet, singular.  A door, actually.  Lamar wants to make sure that he got the molding right.  We're also going to play with stain and shellac.

Yay.  Progress.

And then what?  Oooh, I know, dinner out - utilizing one of the many restaurant gift cards that we never seem to remember to use.  I can feel good about having dinner out on a Friday.  I don't feel quite as good about dinners out on Saturdays, because, theoretically, I have the entire day to plan and make something.  Compare and contrast with a weekday.  That's when dinner out really comes in handy.

On the way back from dinner, I'm going to buy some stretched canvas.  And then I'm going to go the apartment, and, I think, actually do nothing.  Until I feel like going to sleep, and then I will go to sleep and JUST WAKE UP WHENEVER THE HECK I FEEL LIKE IT.  Probably at some point on Saturday morning - but who knows?

I will probably clean a bit (the sure sign that you are a busy working mom:  you actually get excited at the prospect of having time to clean), after taking down the remnants of the Christmas decorations.  Some of which I will drive over to our actual house, and I'll pick up around the yard while I am there.  That will take care of working out - bonus.

I'm definitely going to paint, and work on centerpieces for Reading Rocks.  Yay, crafts!  I will get some actual billable work done, too.

I might do some grocery shopping - or send the boys (big and little) out with a list.  Then I could bake, and make soup.

Critical points:

1.  Strictly speaking, I don't have to do any of the above.

2.  I can do things in, basically, any order that I choose.  (Well, taking into account the laws of physics.  It would be hard to bake with ingredients that are not actually in my possession, because no one has gone to the store.  But you get my drift.)

3.  I can add things to the mix.  Fun, spontaneous things.  I could call up my parents, or some friends, and say, "Hey, let's get together for no particular reason!"  That almost NEVER happens - unless we have car trouble and have to call for rescue, or some other ultimately-happy accident occurs.

4:01.  Yup.  Definitely giddy.

(By the way, appropos of not much:  "nonplussed" is quite possibly my favorite word of all time.  Why?  Because it started out meaning "perturbed," and then, for some inexplicable reason, and on some unspoken signal, everyone collectively started using it to mean "unperturbed" - thus, the bipolar dictionary definition reproduced above.  See?  Meaning #2 is the polar opposite of Meaning #1!  Isn't that hilarious?  Okay, it's hilarious if you're a total word geek.  And a giddy word geek, at that.

Why did we change the meaning?  Who knows?  See "inexplicable," above.  HEY, WE'RE AMERICANS!  We don't need no stinkin' badges, and we don't need reasons to corrupt our language. 

Although, based on the Italicized portion of Meaning #2 above, the Canadians may share the blame with us on this one.  Just sayin'.

Giddy word geek, signing off.)

New Baby Girl,This Is My Message to You-Ou-Ou

Welcome to the world, Kate Riley!  Hope you like your "Three Little Birds" canvas . . . with the elephant in the bottom corner.  (Hey, your mom and I both like to mix metaphors.)

Now I can paint your initials on Mr. Elephant.  Oh, boy (actually, oh, girl).

I love it when friends have girls.  So many opportunities to shop for them, and otherwise spoil them, without having to deal with them when they are bratty (not that boys can't be bratty - it's just a different kind of bratty, and I'm used to "boy bratty" at this point).  Or, you know, pay for their wedding.

But I'm sure that Miss Kate will never be bratty.  No, ma'am.  I have it on good authority that she is sweeter than sugar, OR Sweet 'n Low.  Congrats to the new family!

The Creature With Two Brains

I have an interesting life.

During the course of the day today, I:

Counseled a client on limited partnership ownership structure and tax filing requirements applicable to limited liability company general partners in non-community property states;

Completed initial sketches for an acrylic-on-canvas quadtych featuring images from Calef Brown's book of children's poetry, "Polka-Bats and Octopus Slacks," that will serve as the centerpiece for a 10-top table;

Researched recent changes in the laws applicable to Texas homeowners' associations;

Traded e-mails about floral centerpieces for an entirely unrelated event;

Revised a purchase contract for a piece of commercial real estate;

Considered the optimal logistics for orienting a life-sized tipi in the median of the circular drive at Ridglea Country Club;

Analyzed the issue of whether the concept of "personal injury" includes "death"; and

Shopped online for life-sized replicas of pack animals.

The weird thing is, this is not a weird day by my current definition.  This is an average day.  When I take the time to contemplate my life (which, for some reason, I did just a few minutes ago), I realize that, basically, abnormal is my normal. 

And I'm okay with that.  I work best when my right and left brains are both fully engaged.  Otherwise, one of them feels left out, and gets whiny.

For the record, my initial thought was that death is kinda the end-all, be-all of personal injuries.  But then I got all lawyer-y in my head:  technically, death isn't an injury.  It's a consequence of an injury. So the phrase "personal injury (including death) and property damage" in the context of an indemnity clause is a bit of a clunker.  It ought to read "personal injury (including personal injury resulting in death) and property damage," which, I think, would effectively clarify that DEATH IS NOT A LOOPHOLE, which appears to be my opposing counsel's concern.  (Interesting.  "We agree to indemnify you against personal injury.  Unless you die, in which case, what the heck else do you have to complain about?  It's not like you're still suffering.  YOU'VE BEEN PUT OUT OF YOUR MISERY.  Seriously, quit whining already.")

The really tragic thing is that Left Brain Me looks at the substitute language that I proposed above and thinks that it ACTUALLY needs to read "personal injury (including, but not limited to, personal injury resulting in death) and property damage)," so that it is clear that the example given of personal injury resulting in death is illustrative, but not exhaustive.  And we need to say "including, but not limited to" versus "including, without limitation," because the latter could be deemed to create an exhaustive list of one item, which item is limitless in scope.

Seriously, this is what three years at UT law school does to you.

At this point, Right Brain Me shouts, "Enough already.  Let's rent some fiberglass horses."

Friend Robyn and I really want a fiberglass horse for the upcoming Reading Rocks brunch, because we need a fiberglass horse in order to justify making him or her a saddle blanket out of children's book covers.

Friend Robyn plays well with Right Brain Me - and, also, with Left Brain Me.  It is occasionally suggested that we, in fact, share a brain.  I can't say with 100% certainty that this supposition is inaccurate.  But that's the subject of another post, titled "The Two-Headed Creature With One Brain."

And so it is that, among the many e-mails that I sent today, one of them contained the phrase, "We really aren't picky about the overall color scheme for the fiberglass horse, and if a horse is not available, we're good with a burro."

Words.  That.  I.  Have.  Never.  Before.  Linked.  In. Sequence.

I really do love my life.

Countdown to the New Old House: Houston, We Have a Backsplash Concept

Remember when Lamar the Awesome Cabinet Guy pointed out that the visual interest of beadboard on the island would be lost if I stained it?  This bummed me out, because I really like beadboard.  It's so suitable to the overall aesthetic of the new old kitchen, and - bonus - it would tie the kitchen in with the bathroom around the corner.

I just couldn't figure out where to use it.

I also couldn't figure out what to do about a backsplash.  While the granite that we have chosen is on the less-busy end of the granite spectrum, it's still granite, so a fair amount of color and pattern going on.  Most of the backsplashes that appealed to me (small square or rectangular glass tiles, with or without a metallic sheen) also scared me, because I thought that up against the granite they would be too much.  So, as of New Year's Eve, I had selected a basic rectangular glass tile sheet, featuring monochromatic (white, but with a greenish cast) glass rectangles in both a frosted and clear finish.  However, I still worried that it was too busy.

Brainstorm hit me during the "Crashers" marathon on Sunday:  tile backsplash above the stove (where you would worry about spatters) and beadboard everywhere else, painted the same color as the upper cabinets.  I get my beadboard effect, plus consider the effect of dark-stained cabinets on the bottom, topped with LOOOOOOONG expanses of light-painted wood running up to the ceiling (backsplash, and then 42" of cabinet above that).  The room will look tall!  Tall is good!

This image presents the general idea:

Except that you will need to imagine dark-stained cabinets below, and light-stained cabinets where the shelves are, and, also, this in place of the busy backsplash above:



I am learning that a necessary part of the remodeling process involves showing people images of idea rooms and saying, "It's going to look exactly like this, except to the extent that it will look NOTHING like this."  As I just did above.  But you get my drift.

I'm relieved, and also proud, that I am moving away from a slavish devotion to tile.  Tile EVERYWHERE.  This is what happens when you move into a house, most of the updating of which took place in the Fifties.   Given that my experience is limited largely to our own home, I thought (until recently) that you actually needed to have tile wrapping all of the way around your bathroom - behind the toilet, the sink, extending around the corner to the door frame - and also extending a foot above all kitchen countertop surfaces.  Because our house had that much tile, surely that much tile had to be necessary.  Then the contractor spelled it out for me:  "Your house has an abundance of tile, because an abundance of tile was the design default in the Fifties.  There's really no good reason why you need tile on the wall opposite your tub.  We can PUT tile there, if you want that much tile, but seriously, WHY?"

Why, indeed.  So I'm moving away from tile, and towards beadboard.

Another design decision checked off of the list.

Kid Stuff: Buddy the Elf in the Hizzouse

The long-sleeved version of this tee followed the Big Kid and me home on Saturday.  In the Little Kid's size.  Because it just seemed APPROPRIATE.

If we compared him to Buddy once this holiday season, we did so a thousand times.  And I kept waiting for a backlash that never came.

I thought it was coming yesterday, when we were leaving Sherwin Williams, and I asked, without thinking, "Can you carry the sample piece of wood for me, buddy?"  Note the lower-case B:  I actually wasn't using the term in the elf context, but rather in the context of "pal."  But I expected that, given our frequent holiday usage of the name, he might assume that I was referring to the Will Ferrell character.

Sure enough, I got an eye roll:

"Mom, Buddy is not my name."

Finally.

"It's my nickname."

Um, so, to clarify, we are OWNING the elf thing?

Apparently, given the following interchange on the car ride home.

Me (via cell phone) to spouse:  So, at Sherwin Williams, PJ expressed a distinct preference for a green room.  As in, a really green room.  Like, bright.  Practically glowing.

Spouse:  Interesting.  Is he going with an elf theme?

Me to PJ in the backseat:  Dad wants to know if you are aiming for an elf-themed room.  He said that you can have green walls as long as we paint an accent wall in red and white candy stripes.

PJ:  Cool.  It's a deal.

Ruh-roh.

By the way, we added another shirt to our Buddy collection on the way out of the paint store.  See, Sherwin Williams is next door to a toy store called Miss Molly's, that, for the longest time, was a toy store called Designs for Children.  For a brief period after the ownership (and name) change, my boys refused to step foot in the store, because there was a girl's name in the store name, and the marquee sign had too much pink in it.

"Mom, it's a store for girls now.  We can't go in there."

I was ultimately able to convince them that Miss Molly sold, essentially, everything that they sold under the prior ownership, with an additional emphasis on candy.

Guess which child thought that that was an excellent business plan?

(I should probably point out, if I have not done so before, that the child who doesn't particularly like sugar - that would be the Big Kid - was born with his mom's naturally porous "blonde teeth," so he's the one who's prone to cavities.  The Little Kid has white teeth that are hard as nails and, apparently, impervious to plaque.  So, if you have a vision in mind of a child with all of his teeth rotted out, think again.  I should be so lucky.  I had to retire the "you'll rot your teeth" argument early on, leaving my arsenal seriously depleted.)

So it occurs to me on the drive over to Sherwin Williams that a detour to see Miss Molly is pretty much unavoidable.  Fortunately, there it is on the front door in big letters:  "AFTER-CHRISTMAS SALE:  40% OFF EVERYTHING EXCEPT CANDY AND JON HART LUGGAGE."  Excellent.  Buddy selected a not-on-sale lollipop (and a duplicate item for his brother) and three 40% off Uglydolls - a wind-up Ox, a plush keychain version of Dave Darinko and a small plush Suddy.  (If you are asking yourself, "Dave Darinko?" you probably don't have an Uglydoll fanatic in your house.  Google Dave.  He's a cutie.) 

Suddy was a new one on me, and, for a second, I swear that I thought that her name was Buddy with a B.  Because I have Buddy on the brain.  Anyway.  In a weird way, I view PJ's Uglydoll as an extension of his elf persona:  elves are whimsical, and so are Uglydolls.  I think that they would be friends.  It is entirely possible that one or more Uglys are employed at the North Pole.  I envision Wage, the Uglydoll who started it all, as the head barista at the North Pole Starbucks.  (Silly me, thinking that there is only one Starbucks at the North Pole.  There have to be at least two - and they have to be immediately opposite one another.)

As we were checking out, I noticed a display of t-shirts behind the cash register.  The front of each shirt had the Miss Molly's logo on it (the name of the store next to a swirly lollipop), and on the back the words:

KEEP FORT WORTH SWEET.

O.  M.  G.  See, Spouse has a thing for "Keep Austin Weird" t-shirts.  He has had one in continuous rotation since we left Austin, which would have been in 1996.  And every time we return, and have lunch at Hula Hut, the kids acquire new tees in their current sizes.

Spouse and I get into debates about what Fort Worth's version of the shirt (he is adamant that there should be one) should say.  "Keep Fort Worth Funky?"  I continue to advocate "Keep Fort Worth Socially Incestuous."  On account of how everyone here is 2.4 degrees of separation away from everyone else.  Spouse says that my slogan might be misconstrued, so I have also proposed the more palatable alternative, "Keep Fort Worth Uncomfortably Familiar and All Up In Each Other's Bidness."

Miss Molly had a different slogan idea.  And I had an idea of my own.  T-shirt:  not candy.  And definitely not Jon Hart luggage.

"Are the shirts on sale, too?"

"Um, yeah, I guess they would be.  Want one?"

"Yes, please.  PJ, pick your color."

He picked a radioactive yellow - with letters in elf shoe green.  Naturally.

Spouse approved of our purchase.  It fit our family - and it fit our little elf boy, figuratively and literally.

Countdown to the New Old House: "Dyan, Look At These Swatches!"

That's a "Sleepless in Seattle" reference.

It's a thing with Spouse and me - quoting movie lines in general, and movie lines from "Sleepless" in particular.  Example:  any time a movie is on that's stereotypically girly and maudlin, one of us pretends to cry and mock-sobs, "Trini Lopez," in reference to the conversation that Tom Hanks and Victor Garber have about "The Dirty Dozen."

Lately, we've been talking a lot about swatches, and it's just fun to talk about them in Rob Reiner's voice (but Rob Reiner's voice when he's pretending to be Cary Grant, in the scene about dating and whether an invitation to look at swatches constitutes a smooth dating move). 

You have to draw out the W sound:  "sWWWWWatches."  And use a lot of emphasis.

Anyway.

You know that you are in the middle of a major home remodel when you text yourself paint colors in the middle of the night, so that you will have them on your phone the next day when you make three separate stops at three separate paint stores.  Because, thanks to House Beautiful Magazine, you are fairly sure that you want one of several taupe-y lavender colors manufactured by Behr for the master bathroom, a steel gray-blue from Sherwin Williams for the big kid's room and a totally different, but sort of the same, blue from Benjamin Moore for the little kid's room.

About the taupe-y lavender:  I really, really like our BM Pismo Dunes den.  And I really, really want to change up the paint color in the master bath, which currently is a pale green.  Ideally, I want a color that will (1) harmonize with the new (tobacco leaf-print) shower curtain that I'm totally enamored with and (2) also harmonize with pale gray countertops and a gray floor.  Problem is that many of the colors that jump out of the shower curtain are too warm (as in mustard) or too dated (as in a colonial dark blue).  BUT . . . there's this grayish-lavender color hidden in there, and I really, REALLY like it.  It would look nice against the gray.  Also, when I mentioned to my mother that I just might paint that bathroom a lavender that wasn't actually a lavender, she had no idea what I was talking about and had a mild panic attack.

Challenge accepted.

About the blues:  I told the seven year-old that he could upgrade his paint to a darker blue, and somehow that gave the twelve year-old the idea that he's upgrading as well.  Small problem:  I LOVE the battleship gray in the big kid's room.  It's so calming and sophisticated, and it will grow with him over time.  So I'm torn between giving in to his expressed need for a slightly darker shade or telling him, "No, you already got an updated paint color three years ago.  PJ has had the same color since he came home from the hospital.  Deal with it."

But I'm picking up a sWWWWWatch with his name on it, just in case.

Countdown to the New Old House: I Score a Craft Closet

New finish-out at the homestead is actually third on my list of "good things to come out of The Event."  Second is "new plumbing and electric and a reinforced foundation, translating into peace of mind that the house isn't going to come crashing down around me."

First on the list is additional storage.

To paraphrase Ron Burgundy, "I love storage. Storage-y, storage, storage."  Isn't it a beautiful word?  And a beautiful concept?  If you live in an old cottage house like ours, you are used to dealing with space and storage constraints.  Actually, that's a big part of what attracted us to our particular old cottage house:  as old cottage houses go, it didn't totally suck on the storage side of things.  Two walk-in closets in the master (one small, and one ginormous - an addition, of course, because "ginormous," "closets" and "built in the Twenties" don't go together).  Two more walk-in closets in the middle bedroom.  Broom closet in the hallway that could be converted into a pantry, and an honest-to-goodness laundry room, meaning that the washer and dryer were no longer located against a wall in the kitchen.  (Before you say, "WHAAAA?" I promise you that that's where the washer and dryer were located in most of the houses in our neighborhood when we moved in.)

However, there has always been room for improvement.  And those improvements are in process.  Meaning that the great mental chess match is underway:

If I can move the candles to a Rubbermaid tote under the bar sink in the kitchen, and the charger plates into the cabinet over the fridge, that means that the entire chiffonier can be devoted to table linens.

If all of the table linens are in the chiffonier, that frees up two drawers in the chest in the living room, which means that all of the kids' board games have a place, and the wicker chest in the corner can go bye-bye.

Et cetera.

The most exciting "move" on the mental chess board:  more-than-adequate pantry space in the actual kitchen means that:  the hallway broom closet that we converted into a pantry becomes my craft closet; the existing craft closet (in our bedroom) becomes, with the addition of some deep Elfa shelves, one-half off-season clothing storage and one-half throw pillow and blanket storage; and the second closet in C's room can be devoted entirely to kid storage.

Again, this excites me more than knowing that my house is aesthetically pleasing and/or structurally sound.

Being a good wife, I asked for permission to claim the hallway closet for a craft closet.  Okay, perhaps I didn't ask for permission so much as notify Spouse of my intent to appropriate.  But I did lay out my business case:  the hallway closet is one of those annoying closets that is as wide as the doorway plus a foot or so on either side of that opening.  As such, it totally sucked as a pantry, because anything stored to the left or right of the door opening was completely out of sight and, therefore, out of mind.  Lots of dead space.  Now - as a craft closet, those "wings" can be occupied by the random stuff that we only use once or twice a year, like birthday party supplies and fabric yardage.  The middle space I plan to fill in with the stuff I use all of the time.  Oh, and the Elfa rack on the inside of the door?  Perfect for ribbon and wrapping paper storage.

Didn't believe me, did you?  All you need to do is add a bungee cord to help corral the wrapping paper rolls.

Spouse agreed to my craft closet business plan, and I have already procured from The Container Store clear plastic shoe boxes and accessory boxes (half as deep as a shoe box but the same width) and sorted into them my decorative scissors, glue sticks, glue guns and so on.  Everything is getting a chalkboard label.  I have visions of a closet stacked with similarly-sized, chalkboard-labeled containers, the monotony being broken up by a single lazy susan (also already procured from The Container Store) bearing mason jars filled with paintbrushes and scissors and a sugar dispenser holding my twine.

Seriously, isn't that the cutest thing ever?  I have a serious twine addiction.  It is one of the most useful products ever invented by mankind.  It can be ribbon on a present in a pinch (perhaps you have heard of brown paper packages tied up with string?), you can use it to attach gift labels, and it's a great way to seal storage boxes when you cannot remember where you put the packing tape.  So I am now the proud owner of a sugar canister (purchased for ONE DOLLAH) to hold my twine.

Also planning on edging one of the shelves with a length of measuring tape.  You know, so that I can measure my twine, when measuring is needed, right there while I'm standing in front of the craft closet.  And then I can spin my bad-ass lazy susan and select a pair of scissors with which to cut said twine.

Now we're cooking with gas.

Floor space in the ex-pantry will accept my ginormous tackle box of acrylic paint and the equally ginormous Creative Memories tote which is now largely empty (on account of how I have already moved the scissors and cutters and other ephemera from my days as a "scrapper" into their own labeled clear plastic boxes).  This is a good thing, because the Creative Memories tote will be the perfect place to store the library of the boys' artwork that I rotate seasonally through the big magnetic chalkboard display wall.  I already have their artwork sorted into scrapbook sleeves . . . but those sleeves (ahem) have, to date, been stored in a two-gallon zip-top plastic bag shoved under the skirts in my clothes closet.  (I toss it, and then it slides back out, so then I stuff it.  It's all very scientific.)

So, let's review:

Creative Memories tote that formerly occupied a corner of the master bedroom proper:  in the new craft closet.

Kid artwork that was formerly (rather tenuously) wedged into the corner of my clothes closet:  in the Creative Memories tote.

Former craft closet:  ready to be converted into another use.

It's enough to make a girl weep with joy.  Seriously.

(Images above courtesy of Choose Craftiness' Blogspot blog, whiskergraphics.com and Martha Stewart.  For links, visit my "Organize Me, Baby" Pinterest board at http://pinterest.com/manicmomma/organize-me-baby/.)

More Christmas Recap

(Oh, yeah, and I got around to adding images to the first "Christmas Recap." Sorry about that.)

Other fun holiday-related stuff that I'm just now getting around to blogging about:

1.  Frimily Game Night at Friend Robyn's.

Love this picture of PJ and G in her "Christmas scarecrow overalls" (her phrase) playing Guess Who? against their big sibs.  They are taking it.  So.  Very.  Seriously.



You have to love a party invitation that includes the phrase, "Bring your own Wiimotes."  You also have to love the fact that you are not the only person crazy enough to own a personalized "Wiimote Storage" caddy.

Big kids playing Beatles Rock Band.

Friend Elizabeth and her beautiful daughter who is not a baby anymore.  Which disturbs me, because I know that the twelve year-old is next on the "not a baby anymore" list.

[Sigh.]

Robyn has two trees, including a Texas Tech-themed one:

Generally, her house at Christmas is festive with a big ol' capital F.  Or an R (pictured above).

Punch pictured below is the cranberry punch that I blogged about a week or so ago.  Yum.

2.  State High School Football Championship at the Death Star AKA "Jerryworld."

Go, Aledo Bearcats!  My spouse played for Aledo, and his dad played on the first team ever fielded by Aledo HS; specifically, he was the quarterback, and in such capacity he scored the first touchdown in Aledo history.

Thus, it was a no-brainer that we would travel en masse to Jerryworld to watch Aledo three-peat as Division 4A champs.  Since we don't actually own any Aledo gear (well, Spouse has his old jersey - but even if it still fit, which is questionable, I don't think that he would actually wear it to a game, for fear of being THAT GUY), we broke out our Texas burnt orange, and PJ went so far as to color a Bearcat emblem with colored pencil, which he held up in front of his shirt sporadically during the game.

Occasionally, he would sub in this longhorn emblem:

Why he thought that he needed a SECOND longhorn emblem (over and above the one that came attached to the shirt) is beyond my comprehension.  Cute, though.

3.  Travelers' Service and West Side Christmas Lights. 

Our church did a cool thing this year, offering a preview of the Christmas Eve candlelight service a week in advance.  This afforded us the opportunity to invite friends and family to participate in our worship without asking them to skip their own Christmas Eve or Christmas day church plans.

LOVE this photo of the kids posing with my grandmother in front of the Chrismon tree:

See what I mean about the Big Kid being next on the "not a baby anymore" list?  Oh, and please note that Big Kid's sweater matches Little Kid's scarf.  Getting them to wear coordinating items of apparel was somewhat akin to bull riding:  eight seconds, and it was all over.  But eight seconds was enough.  By the way, their primary objection to said items of apparel was not to the matchy-matchiness of it all; they objected because the sweater and scarf in question were "girly-striped."  Did you know that wide stripes (I would go so far as to call them rugby stripes) in shades of charcoal, dark blue, army green, orange and red are "girly"? 

I didn't, either.

Also on the "LOVE" list:  our church's Chrismon tree.  And, no, I don't just love it because "Chrismon" refers to Christ's monogram, so it's basically a big ol' monogrammed Christmas tree. 

After church, we went to look at lights, including these great trees in front of the Chesapeake/Pier One building:

Wouldn't be Christmas in Fort Worth without a visit to the Loudon house:

Best light display in town, bar none.

Lights were the cherry on top of a wonderful Sunday sundae, which began with a delicious brunch at Friend Kim's house.  Love Friend Kim and her sweet family, and I definitely love her brunches.

4.  Painting for the Holidays.

I have been painting "Tinsel" for years, but I didn't realize how much it has evolved over those years until I saw the version that I painted for Robyn four years ago:

I would say that I'm transitioning from abstractionist to realist, but here's the deal - I did the old version using a really big round sponge that subsequently wore out, and I haven't found one to replace it.  So now I have to freehand the ornaments with a brush.  That's the explanation.  Oh, and also, I am easily bored.  Hence the reason that the version of "Jingle" above features a cosmopolitan, but the version from the week before featured a margarita.

Yes, I am that fickle about actual drinks, too.

5.  Doggie Day at the Spa.

Here is Ruby Dog after her groomer clipped her to look like an Australian Shepherd and her daddy sprang for a new elf collar:

Ruby takes after her mom in that she is also easily bored.  It's dull being a Sheltie all of the time; why not masquerade as a member of another herding breed for awhile?  Plus, it's much more low maintenance - the canine equivalent of getting a bob or short shag.
Ruby's new haircut made her smile:

Seriously, she knows when she looks pretty.

Ace did not a spa day,and I think he was a bit bummed by this, because we found him commiserating with a sock monkey.

6.  Head-to-Head Glogg and Gluhwein Battle. 

Normally, I am a Gluhwein girl, but this year I decided to branch out and try Glogg.  If you aren't familiar, the former is a German red spiced wine, and the latter is a similar Scandanavian beverage that can be made with red wine or vodka.  Both are served warm-to-hot.

I made my Glogg with vodka.  And it was awesome.  Possibly a little more awesome than Gluhwein.

Spouse agreed.

Okay, I think I'm caught up now.  Hope your holidays were as jolly as ours were!

Countdown to the New Old House: House Porn

"Crashers" marathon on DIY.

Best.  New Year's Day.  Time waster.  EVER.

I have major crushes on Josh Temple, Matt Muenster and Ahmed Hassan.  Jointly and severally.  They are easy on the eyes, incredibly handy and like to laugh.  We would get along famously.  Seriously.  If they were ever to crash a Lowe's in west Fort Worth and our paths were to cross, I just know that they would pick me as their partner in crime in an awesome remodeling project.  One look in my eyes, and they would know that I would sell that demolition sequence like my life depended it.  Because I like to demo things.  And build things.  Preferably alongside attractive, competent licensed contractors-slash-television personalities.

Except it occurs to me as I am watching that my "Crashers" window has pretty much closed.  Or will have closed in a couple of months.  If I run into Josh (host of "House Crashers") at Lowe's, say, in March, and he asks, "How's your kitchen?" I will have to say:

"Custom cabinets.  Beadboard and decorative glass tile backsplash.  Granite countertops.  Two sinks - one granite, one hammered copper.  Oil-rubbed bronze faucets with pull-down sprayers.  Professional stainless steel appliances.  Lots of great storage and task lighting.  Oh, and we recently had all of the wiring and plumbing redone."

NEXT.

Same conversation, but with Matt (of "Bath Crashers" and plaid workshirt fame):

"My worst bathroom?  Um, well, I guess that would be the master.  It's on the small side.  The pipes are a little old - I mean, not OLD old.  They're copper . . . but the pipes in my kids' bathroom are top-of-the-line Pex, so, you know, compared to that, copper is - um - sort of deficient?  Finish-out is nice and neutral, but not BRAND-NEW nice and neutral.  What do I hate about the finish-out?  Well, hate's kind of a strong word.  I kind of want to replace the flooring, just to bring it up to the same level as the other bathroom, but I wouldn't say that I hate what's in there now.  Hello?  Matt?  WHY ARE YOU WALKING AWAY?"

Now, if they had run into me a couple of weeks ago - TOTALLY different scenario.  But, as things are progressing, I am heading in the direction of "uncrashable."  Although . . . I do have something to offer Ahmed.  Lots to offer, actually.  Ginormous carriage house with dirt floor floating in the middle of my backyard, bifurcating it awkwardly in half.  Concrete slab and cyclone fence dog run that has never (at least, not on our watch) been utilized as a dog run.  HORRIBLE grass situation.

So I have some hope.

But I have to say that it's kind of fun watching DIY Network when you're mid-construction project.  You really do feel like you're in the know:  "Oh, that looks like what they found underneath our tub!  And we have a chimney like that in the corner of the kitchen.  Good call on refinishing the exposed brick.  Hey, they're using LVL boards.  WE HAVE THOSE!  AND THAT'S OUR SINK!"

Yeah, I'm a big HGTV dork.  And I cohabit with an HGTV dork-in-training.  Blonde, twelve years old.  Addicted to "House Hunters."  And, also, the Crashers franchise.  He watched most of the marathon with me.  Being the child of two attorneys, he had some on-point questions:

"Mom, if someone comes up to you at Home Depot and tells you that they are filming a TV series and want to offer you a free kitchen, wouldn't YOU think it was possibly a scam?  I mean, it's not hard to rent some camera equipment and get someone to pretend to be your cameraman.  Then, once they are inside your house, they would case the joint and stuff."

"Okay, point taken.  But I imagine that there's some contract that you sign, on network letterhead."

"Letterhead can be forged, Mom."

"True . . . .  So, um, I guess you just watch them like a hawk until they actually start putting value into your house?  Like, they plumb in a new refrigerator, and at that point you can pretty much guarantee that they are legit, because giving away new refrigerators as an entree to case a joint is not the world's most effective burglary plan?"

These are the conversations that I have with my twelve year-old on a daily basis.  It's exhausting.  And I'm guessing that it's just going to get worse.

Twelve year-old actually accompanied me to Lowe's yesterday for some New Year's Eve shopping.  We purchased his bathroom light fixture, towel bar and toilet roll holder, and we visited his pedestal sink.  Good times.

This is the sink. Good for kids, because there's actual (fairly ample) space on either side of the faucet for soap and toothbrushes. (We considered installing wall-mounted soap dishes and toothbrush holders, in satin nickel to match the other fixtures, but they all involved some quantity of glass or porcelain, and my husband reminded me that these are OUR children that we are talking about. Reason the soap dish that was previously tiled into our shower surround is no longer present and accounted for: the Big Kid put all of his weight on it - because he thought it was one of those foot thingies on a rock-climbing wall? - and BROKE IT OFF OF THE WALL.


OOOOH! MATT MUENSTER! That's what I hate about my master bathroom - the missing soap dish. Still not enough? Crud.)

This is the faucet that will be affixed to said pedestal sink.

It's brushed nickel (translation:  boy-proof), and it's by Delta, which means that it was crazy expensive, but somewhat less so because we bought it "new in box" from Habitat for Humanity's ReStore.  Love that place.  Get a bargain, and help out a struggling family, all in one transaction.

This is the medicine cabinet - or will be the medicine cabinet when I get around to ordering it.  Haven't decided on the color, though - might be white, might be Benjamin  Moore's "Manchester Tan" to match the walls or might be a dark stain like this one.

This is the tile that will surround the tub (white cast iron, with a faucet to match the sink one).  It's a glazed porcelain but looks a lot like marble.  Same tile will go on the floor, but tiles will be square instead of rectangular.

And, finally, one of these bad boys is going to get mounted to the ceiling:

(Sing to the "Pillow Pets" ad jingle) "It's a light fixture, it's a fan - it's a Broan-bathroom-exhaust-fan-with-brushed-nickel-hardware-and-white-alabaster-glass-globe!"

Seriously, I love this thing, which will take the place of the ugly Fifties-era exhaust fan that is in the room currently.  Overhead light means that we can do away with a vanity bar - although I'm totally putting in a vanity bar, too.  Already locked and loaded.  Spouse's criteria:  "The glass shades should be long enough to cover an entire CFL bulb without part of the coil-y thing protruding out of the bottom."  Apparently, this is a spousal pet peeve. 

Done and done.  Now, on to the kitchen.