A Pox On You, HGTV!

Having just come off of the high of wallpaper completion, Hubster and I are ready to begin a new renovation project.

The Living Room.

Oh, HUSH. Sometimes quality work takes TIME, people. LOTS of TIME.

Now, where was I?

Our living room has paneling that dates back to the 70's. We'd like to replace it with sheet rock and paint, adding additional lighting to the room we affectionately call "The Cave" since it's so dark.

There's a 6' long crack in the vaulted, beamed ceiling, and a foot-and-a-half circular place where something leaked once before we ever moved in and was never fixed. The ceiling needs painting as well.

Underneath the carpeting, which I've never liked, are the original hardwood floors - just waiting to be refinished and brought back to life. We could also use some sort of entertainment center/bookshelf thingy that goes all the way up to the ceiling on the wall that houses the stairs to the garage.

Amazingly, the cost for materials for this little endeavor is much less than we thought. It's the cost of the labor that's killing us. For just the paneling, ceiling and sheet rock (no painting) part, we have one bid of almost $4000.00.

We aren't spring chickens anymore. Hubster's back goes out if you so much as look at it cross-eyed. And we all know the saga of my knees.

Plus, there's the fact that it's a lot of hard work and neither one of us really want to tackle it. Add to that the procrastination factor (refer to wallpapering, hallway), and it could be sometime in late 2040 before it actually gets done...by the new owners.

Because let's face it, we'll both be dead and gone by then.

And I think we can safely say there's no way we are going to pay that much to get it done.

So tonight we're getting another bid. Then Hubster is going to talk to his brother who knows a guy that does sheet rock mudding for a living. Hopefully this guy will know someone who wants to do a little sheet rock work on the side. We can take down the paneling ourselves, hire the mudding guy to patch the cracks and repair the damaged spot and the sheet rock guy to do his thing, then get a semi-pro in to do the floors.

I'm hoping to spend less than half of the first bid to get this done. We'll see how it pans out.

Oh HUSH. A girl can dream, can't she?

And if a girl can dream, an old lady can too.

News Flash: Royalty Meets In Florida

We'll keep you updated on this Most Important Story as time (and The Mouse) allows.

Seems to me as though Cutie has a thing for large rodents that may have to be nipped in the bud....

Big Hairy Rodents and Aged Old People Who Are Elderly

These kids nowadays...

Tonight we met at Chuck E. Cheese (formerly ShowBiz Pizza, a.k.a. Bleed Your Parents Dryville) for my granddaughter's 3rd birthday party.

For those of you unfamiliar with this establishment, let me just say this: RUN AWAY. RUN FAST. RUN HARD.

Other than that, I can tell you that children love it. It's loud. It has all sorts of little rides for the tots, tunnels to climb in, games for older children and yea, even adults to play. And it's loud. And they serve overpriced pizza, sandwiches, and drinks, along with an overpriced salad bar so that you can have a balanced meal. And it's loud. And the children love it. And did I mention it was loud?

As I recall, all of my children have had birthday parties at this particular chain. From the almost-33-year-old down to the 15-year-old, each one of them has adored it. The only difference was that I was much younger when their parties took place.

Much younger.

Even though it was loud and the food was overpriced, the joy that I could see on my granddaughter's face and that of Little Man and Sweetie Pie, who were there for the celebration, was worth it all. It was just a wonder they didn't fall over from ALL THE EXCITEMENT.

There were THE RIDES! And THE GAMES! And PRESENTS! And OTHER KIDS! And, thanks to Mom and Dad, UNLIMITED TOKENS!

So predictably, when it was time to leave, there was a struggle.

However, I was able to take matters well in hand and get Hubster out the door without too much of a scene.

These kids nowadays....

Insomnia Is Not My Friend

I have been in bed since 9:30 p.m.

It is now almost 11:30 p.m.

I have been through a hot shower, two relaxation MP3s, one sleeping pill and one pain pill. None have worked. Hubster is snoring contentedly, and has been since the middle of Relaxation MP3 #1.

I didn't stay up to see the Oscars. I wasn't all strung out about finally finishing the wallpaper. I didn't take a nap today. I'm not upset about anything, worried about anything, excited about anything, or dreading anything. I'm not going over plans in my head to save the world from certain destruction in case of nuclear attack or a bad case of gastrointestinal upset.

I just can't sleep.

So I'm down here at Old Faithful, writing away to let you know of my troubles. And while I wait for the Sandman to come, I'm enjoying a glass of Yago to pass the time as I watch a bit of HGTV.
HGTV has prompted us to begin on the next home-remodeling projects around here. (1) A re-do of the kids' bathroom, since the wallpaper is falling off of the walls at an alarming rate. And (2) removing the dated panelling in the living room and replacing it with sheetrock and paint. Then Hubster wants to tear up the carpeting and refinish the hardwood floors underneath.

This should be interesting.

I'm thinking the bathroom will be a piece o' cake compared to the rest of it. The Girl and I will have control over what goes on there, but given it's covered in 75% beige tile, there won't be all that much to do. Some paint here, some towels there, some knick knacks another place, and we'll be good.

It's the boys I worry about.

So, Cutie and her family are coming in tomorrow evening to celebrate her birthday. She's THREE this year, and doesn't hesitate to let you know. We're off to see the big hairy rodent who serves pizza and I'm sure we'll all have a wonderful time. From there their family goes to Disneyworld for a week..

Better they than me. I come from a long line of those who try to get out of going to amusement parks whenever possible. It's a noble profession.

And now, my friends, I believe the sleeping potion is finally working. I'm off to slumber sweetly after another short shot of Yago. I can only hope the MP3 player has charged sufficiently to allow my evening serenade to begin once again.

Today, The Wallpaper. Tomorrow, THE WORLD!!!

Guess what I've been doing today?

G'head. Guess.

No, not climbing Mount Kilamanjaro in a bikini.

No, not competing in Iron Chef, although my culinary skillz are world reknown. Ahem.

No, not starring in the nude version of Elton John's "Aida" in Community Theater.

Say it with me now...EEEEEEWWWWWWWWW...

What Hubster and I HAVE done is something I've been threatening for months.

WE FINISHED WALLPAPERING THE HALL!!

It's Somewhat Calm After The Storm

On the way home from work yesterday after a tough afternoon of feelings, I went to Mom's house. I needed to talk to her about all the junk floating around in my brain.

I talked and yelled and cried for a while, then I sat and listened for a while. It was almost as if I could hear her say, "It's alright to let go."

Of course, we all know I'm more than a little addlepated, so...

I called Sis and asked if she wanted to come over and sort through some stuff since I was there and Mom had said it was OK and all. I didn't tell her about hearing Mom or anything, because that would have just cemented the signature on the form for my committal into Ye Olde Funny Farm.

Which, come to think of it, doesn't sound like such a bad place sometimes. I wonder, do they have blogging there?

Anyway, she appeared (Sis, not Mom), and we started in on the desk. One single, simple, freestanding piece of furniture. It's even a BABY desk, not regulation size. But I kid you not, every nook, cranny, drawer, crack and crevice was filled to bursting with all kinds of treasure.

498,349 nail files. 32 pairs of tweezers. 67 pens, pencils, and even one tube of "Double-Sided Glue" - whatever that is. I always thought glue as a whole was sticky, and I didn't know it had sides. Essential oils, empty Altoids boxes, empty check boxes that had been filled with all manner of screws, bolts, fasteners, nails, buttons, and a cache of other booty whose worth remains in Mom's eyes only.

Sis, God bless her, had me laughing so hard during most of the sorting out that there was no way I could possibly cry. What would I do without her? We kept imagining what Mom would say if she could see us going through her stuff - how she'd give us "that" look and what little snide thing she might say, and it had us rolling.

Let this be a lesson to you. You never know when someone may be going through your drawers tomorrow. As the Bible so aptly puts it:

Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

James 4:14 NIV

Guess I'd better get cleaning.

It's A Yon, Yon Day Away

When The Girl was little, every time she wanted to express a great length of time in either the future or the past, she would call it a "yon day" (long day). For instance, when she started telling a story it wasn't, "Once upon a time...", but "A yon, yon day ago..."

This season of grief over Mom is taking a yon day.

I finally got used to wearing her wedding rings, but the only way I was able to do it without feeling sad every time I looked at them was to turn them upside down - with the wedding band on top. I know, it's weird. I know, I could have taken them off altogether. But somehow I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, because I WANT to wear them, and the stupid grief thing wasn't going to stop me.

Only here's what it has done. It's made my stomach a mess.

I know what the problem is. I can't stand coming to the end of dismantling Mom's house. I even backed out of the usual Saturday meeting Sis and I have this past weekend because I couldn't face getting that much closer to the end. And when it comes down to having a sale of her remaining things, I may just sit in a corner and babble incoherently. People can watch and say, "Poor thing, you know she never was quite right...." I may even drool a little for effect.

In the meantime, I will buck up and follow through, doing what has to be done. I'll deal with the fallout after the job is complete, because I will NOT leave Sis in the lurch just because I'm some namby-pamby who can't handle it. I am strong, I am capable, I am an overcomer, and I SHALL OVERCOME!!!

In the meantime, please pass the Tums, because this could take a yon, yon day.

It Seems I Have Been Remiss In My Duties

I have neglected to post the results of the obligatory pre-Sweetheart Dance photo session.

Well, that's not entirely true. I posted them on Facebook, but that doesn't really count since it doesn't reach the Greater Blogging World.

So, without further ado, I present The Girl and Boyfriend decked out in their finery...


Followed closely by The Boy and Girlfriend...


And a group shot of all four of the crew...

Sorry, Jules. It was the best I could do with a point-and-shoot while sitting on the living room couch and aiming with the camera over my head. And yes, it's MY house. But the decor is soon to change when the new furniture comes in.

We're moving the fireplace to the other side of the living room.

Oh, I kid.

We're replacing it with a wall-sized mural of Elvis on black velvet.

And now for some interesting facts about the significant others in the above photos...

Boyfriend's parents are from the Philippines. Because of this, he isn't used to the meat and potatoes kind of meals we have around here. In fact, he's not used to potatoes at all. At home they serve rice with meals, and are more likely to have seafood and much more exotic dishes than what The Girl is used to eating. But it's good to know both sets of parents seem to have brought their children up right. He eats like a horse over here, and she tells me she manages to try (and like!) new things at his house.

Girlfriend and The Boy would spend every waking hour together if they could. As it is, they talk for literally HOURS on the phone. Today is their TWO-MONTH anniversary, and even though she was here for most of the evening last night, he wanted her to come over again tonight. And then, of course, there would be Friday night, Valentine's Day, and we can't forget that she could come over Sunday night because there's no school on Monday...

Or we could just adopt her and be done with it.

In other randomness, we're going out tomorrow night for our annual Valentine's dinner with Pseudo-Daughter's parents. It's been a tradition with us for the last almost ten years to dine together on this day, and for the past few years we've gone to the same restaurant.

Because we're old and set in our ways, that's why. Besides, it makes ordering easier when you know what's on the menu already.

It just takes more time to have it pureed for you if you've forgotten your teeth that night. Not that I would know anything about that or anything.

And with that little tidbit, I'm off to bed.

DANGER LURKS!

I did a very dangerous thing tonight.

No, I didn't drive under the influence of any legal or illegal substance. No, there were no cabana boys passing secret codes to me in the beach towels. No, it had nothing to do with the pole-dancing lessons I may or may not have taken in a former life.

Honestly, Interpeeps.

I ventured out unarmed into the wilds of the suburban jungle, my local Wal-Mart. But that wasn't the most dangerous thing I did tonight.

Oh no.

Tonight, my friends, I went to our local Community Center and took a self-guided tour.

It was a scary, scary place, Interpeeps.

Oh, the meeting rooms and the child care room and the swimming pools and locker rooms seemed innocent enough. Even the gymnasium at the end of the building looked as though people were having fun.

And then I went upstairs. UP actual STAIRS. No elevator.

"This," thought I, "does not bode well for fat people such as I."

And I was so, so right.

When I got to the top of the stairs, huffing and puffing from all the strain, the first thing I noticed were Many Machines. And walking, ellipting, grunting, groaning, sliding, bending, huffing, puffing, straining, stretching, running, sweating, and acting as if they were drinking vinegar by the gallon with straws, were Many, Many Persons of Unknown Age.

And all of them - ALL OF THEM - were skinny. There was not one fat one in the bunch. They were all well-toned, fit, and without flab. As my mother used to say, they would've been tough as a bull's horn if you tried to cook 'em for dinner.

There were two additional rooms for exercise classes next to the Huge Machine Room. A kickboxing class was being held in one as I was there. I tried to imagine myself in that class. I tried really, really hard. And then someone walked by and asked what I was laughing about and I had to stop.

There is also a 1/16 mile track around the upper part of the gymnasium that connects to the Huge Machine Room. You have to be very careful not to get in the way of the people on the track or you will find yourself flattened in...well...nothing flat.

The cost for our family of four would be $150 a quarter to make use of all the facilities. 7-week classes run $17.50 for members, and include water exercise classes for poor arthritic bones such as mine. The Boy could make use of the weight room, The Girl would love the treadmills (complete with televisions on each one) and elliptical machines. Hubster will stay at home with the satellite television.

We haven't decided to commit to this yet. I have another doctor's appointment on Tuesday, and if he says what I think he'll say about the losing weight to help with other health issues, we may have no choice.

But let me just say this about that...

I hate exercising with every fiber that is in my being. I hate sweating, I hate breathing hard, I hate stretching and running and bending and I just want to be able to READ myself healthy. Is that too much to ask??? I mean really, if you knew how much my knees hurt climbing those stairs, you wouldn't want me to do it any more. Right?

(crickets chirping)

OK, I'LL THINK ABOUT IT!

I'd Like To Introduce You

Long about last Thursday I missed an appointment with the ENT guy. He was only going to give me some results of a test I'd taken the previous Saturday, so I wasn't that concerned when I looked at the clock and realized I was supposed to be there. I called his office and asked if he could just give me a call instead of me having to reschedule. His office staff agreed, saying he'd call me after clinic hours that evening. I gave them the number of my cell phone, then took it with me wherever I went for the remainder of the day and into the night.

He never called. It was like waiting for a call from the guy I liked so much I thought I WOULD DIE in ninth grade if he didn't call me and of course he never did and I died a thousand deaths all over again.

Only not.

At the ungodly hour of seven ayem in the morning the next day, the phone at my house rang. I, being One Who Will Not Be Wakened, let it ring and went back to sleep. Only later, when I arose from my sleep-induced coma, did I realize it was probably the doctor calling me back.

And only later did I also realize I'd misplaced the cell phone that I swore would not leave my side until he did.

I am a fickle being.

The cell phone is gone, folks. Vanished. And I am inconsolable in my grief. I'm thinking about putting up posters, but the only place I could put them would be around my house and car, because that's the only place I had it. I loved my cell phone. It was so very perfect for me.

But now all I have left of Trace are the memories...(sniff!)...

Since being without a cell phone is almost like being without an appendage nowadays, I went to Phone Store yesterday to see if I could get a replacement for Trace. Naturally, Trace is no longer being made. Naturally, I do not qualify for the maximum discount since it has not been long enough between the time I got Trace and now. So I decided to purchase one of the El Cheapo brands of phones just to get me through.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please let me introduce you to B.U.C. (Butt-Ugly Communicator). He will be the stand-in for Trace until I can take advantage of my full discount sometime in August.

Yes, it's baby-poop green, has irritatingly cheap-sounding rings, no camera, and I really, really, really dislike it. Add to that the fact that the company I use promised me all my contacts were saved online until I needed them (they weren't) and now I have to re-enter each and every one.

There is one bright note. If, by some miraculous work of the Almighty, I am able to find Trace before the next thirteen days are up, I will be able to take this monstrosity back to whence it came and ne'er worry again.

Until then, I'm stuck...with B.U.C.

A Little Help From My Friends

Tonight it's just me, a cuppa decaf and a jar of hot fudge.

It was an emotional day.

After an early coffee date with HeyJules, there was the every-Saturday-from-nine-to-twelve cleaning out of Mom's house. It's getting down to the nitty-gritty now. We worked on all the cabinets in the basement. I don't know how much longer we can put off finishing the kitchen, the treasure table and the case of collectibles.

Something inside me both wants to be done with this forever and at the same time wants it to last forever. It's quite a dilemma, being as I can't have both.

Since Mom chose to be buried so far away, it's as if the house is the only place we can go to "visit" her. It's where we both remember her best, where we grew up, and where she lived for over forty years. It's hard to dismantle it and it will be harder still to sell it. However, it's impractical for us to consider keeping it as our own special retreat, our home away from home, so sell it we will.

Even though it breaks our hearts to do so.

We ended today's session early. Neither Sis nor I had the heart to be there, so we did what we could to progress and then left half an hour before we normally do. Our respective piles of stuff will someday find their way to our homes. It's happening bit by bit. Time marches on.

And after that was over with, The Girl decided she needed me to go with her to get her hair done for the Sweetheart Dance. Now, usually that wouldn't bother me. But today? Seeing how beautiful she looked at the tender age of seventeen, picturing her as she will look in not too many years from now as a bride, knowing The Boy was also going to this dance in a SUIT, knowing he would not be around that much longer either....

And knowing Mom would not be here to see any of it, just about did me in.

So here I sit, with my friends Hot Fudge and Coffee. Forgive me if I indulge. And forgive me if I forget to invite you along.

Of Seasons and Plans

The humidifier has been running all day in my office, making the air quite pleasant to breathe, actually. Much different from those moisture-free days of yore before the addition of this source of comfort. I hate it when it hurts to draw in air because every portion of nasal passage is cracked and dry.

Not that you needed that mental picture.

Sorry.

I think I'm ready for Spring to get here and stick around for a while. I'd like to see it get warm enough to where I can open windows and air out the house, clean the carpets without fear of them mildewing, and enjoy a walk without freezing my considerably-sized behind.

And yet there are still at least two months of Winter left. In this part of the world, anyway.

Along with Spring comes the need to get a stone up on Mom's grave. She's been there now for two months, and it looks like it's going to be a permanent stay, so it would be a good thing if we identified her. Sis and I have talked about the stone and decided what it should look like and how it should read. Now all I have to do is either make a trip down there and give them the order, or mail the order to them. I'm thinking I'll make the trip over President's Day.

After all, I have a GPS now. I can go ANYWHERE!

Not that I couldn't before, but now I can go there without getting lost. It's a whole 'nuther world, my friends. A whole 'nuther world.

Of Medicine and Royalty

NO SURGERY!!!

That's the news from the orthopod after viewing the MRI of my knee. He now believes the pain I've been having is due to arthritis behind the kneecap. The MRI showed no tears in any ligaments, including the meniscus.

And a collective sigh of relief was let out from the congregation.

The course of treatment from here involves (1) ignoring it, (2) cortizone shots, (3) Synvisc shots, (4) arthroscopic surgery to clean out the arthritis, then (5) knee replacement. In that order, if it ever gets that bad. Which we fervently hope it does not.

On the cardiac front, the heart has been pronounced Mary Poppins-ish - practically perfect in every way. Yet another sigh of relief. I'm two for two.

The Girl has Boyfriend over here getting their t-shirts ready for "Match Your Date Day" for their school's Spirit Week. She chose to put this photo of the two of them on both of their shirts in case anyone wondered who was dating whom.

Boyfriend is understandably thrilled to be here helping with the preparation of the shirts. He mentioned something about 8 p.m. being his bedtime and having to go home, but The Girl wouldn't let him get away with it.

He is obviously the dominant one in the relationship.

And I have some swampland in Arizona I'd like to sell you if you believe that one.

Because really? It's always been about Her Highness, The Princess of All She Surveys.

I kind of feel sorry for him.

A Lot Of Nothing

The boys are in the living room watching what I firmly and fervently hope is the LAST football game for several months. I find myself thinking there is nothing else on television besides football toward the end of the season. I hear the cheering crowds and commentators even in my sleep, which some would term nightmares.

Of course, there's always basketball to look forward to.

My joy knows no bounds.

In the meantime, I have my computer, my own little television, my cluttered desk, and my imagination (or lack thereof) to keep me company. Hubster was kind enough to share his head cold as well. I've spent the day sleeping, eating, sleeping more, eating more, reading blogs, watching television, reading books, and sleeping.

Oh, and I took a nap.

Yesterday was busy. It began with a medical test at 8 a.m., followed by the weekly trip to Mom's to clean out another area, then a trip to my part-time job, shopping for gifts, and lastly Little Man's fourth birthday celebration.

I think I deserved a nap or two today. After all, Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest, right?

And with that, I'm off to bed.