A Rm W/ A Vw

In the span of less than a week, the view from my office has turned from this...

To this...

Welcome, Spring!

Tick Tock, Tick Tock

Friday. At last.

Since I don't have to work tonight, I have to work tonight. We're painting, Interpeeps!

Of course, we first have to remove the inch-and-a-half of sheet rock dust from the walls and ceiling, but then we're going to town. We plan to start with the ceiling and work our way down. This is due to the fact that Hubster doesn't quite have the bookcase/entertainment center stained, varnished, and built into the wall yet, so there will be more sheet rock work to be done before we can start on the actual colored part of the existing walls.

Because here at La Casa de Unfinished Work, putting the cart before the horse can sometimes be more fact than fiction.

A whole lot more fact.

Kind of like when a certain unnamed person who might or might not live in my house decided to sand the walls without first putting up some sort of barrier like a drop cloth or sheet over the doorways so that the dust from said sanding wouldn't settle over EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE ENTIRE HOUSE. As it did. Even though it was mentioned to that certain someone that an avenue of opportunity afforded itself to cover those very doorways AT LEAST THREE TIMES before said sanding ever started.

Not that it's been almost NINETEEN ENDLESS DAYS OF REMODELING TORTURE and anyone's getting the least bit testy here or anything.

Ahem.

All I know is that I want my livingroom back. I want to be able to walk through my house without running into the Ghosts of Furniture Past in the form of the old livingroom furniture blocking every nook and cranny of the living space we DO have. I want to watch a television that's bigger than a postage stamp while reclining on a REAL chair or sofa instead of sitting upright in my office chair. I want my office to BE an office again, my dining room to BE a dining room, instead of storage for the odd recliner and end table.

And yes, I would like a little cheese with my whine.

So we're setting a goal here. Furniture to be delivered on March 30th. Drop dead date.

And that means either the furniture is delivered then or I drop dead of frustration, so let's hope it's the former.

The clock starts now.

The St. Patrick's Day That Was

Oh, sure'n it was a day, it was.

It started off at 7:15 a.m., the time I arrived at the office. The guys already had the entrances blocked off, but were kind enough to let me in. Throughout the m0rning we had people begging and pleading to park in the lot.

We turned 'em all away. Well, except for the employees and volunteers. We're kindhearted like that.

At 9:30 a.m. the street looked like this:



And by 10:30 a.m. the crowds were starting to get a little more dense.



But as you can see, I had the perfect viewpoint from my office window.

Along about 11:00 a.m. the parade started, but since we were midpoint of the route we didn't see anyone until around 11:30.

There were cars...



And a color guard.



There were pipers...



And there were Knights.



There were floats...



And balloons. Lots and lots of balloons. BIG balloons.







Poor St. Patrick got stuck under one of the traffic lights and had to bend over backward to make it through!

And then there were THESE characters...



And more drill teams than you could shake a stick at.

But by 2:30 p.m. all of these people were gone.





Things were back to normal in our little part of the world.





And I, for one, was glad.

If This Isn't Ridiculous, I Don't Know What Is

It is now 11:45 p.m.

I have to get up in the morning. I took my requisite Ambien like a good girl over an hour ago. I had a long, hot shower to relax after a long, hard day of cleaning yet more kitchen cabinets, sorting out things that haven't been used in years and probably never will be, and rearranging the remainder.

In addition, I now have six different colors of paint on the walls of the unfinished livingroom, and I don't think I like any of them. Thank goodness for color samples! Also thank goodness for the fact that Daughter went to the furniture store and checked out the piece of material I needed to match the paint. I'll be heading back to the hardware store tomorrow.

And thirdly, we seem to be infested with moths. They are growing in number, and I have no idea how to get rid of them. I kill at least 5-10 a day, and still they show up. They're driving me nuts. Of course, it doesn't help that the whole house is in utter chaos at the moment. Anyone have any ideas to get rid of them?

Until tomorrow, and the dawn's early light...

A View From The Hallway For Julie and Linds

The Hallway, going upstairs. Please note the wallpaper.

The entryway. Please note the wallpaper.

Looking into the livingroom from the entryway. Please note the wallpaper.

I do believe this is evidence. Proof. It is completed. Done. And you won't catch me near it again for the next ten years, because it took almost that long to finish it.

So there.

:)

The State of the Estate

In just a couple of weeks it will be four months since Mom died.

Wow.

We've been working on the dis-assembly of the house almost every Saturday since the first of the year save one when I couldn't face it, one when it snowed too much, one when Sis had a funeral to go to, and this one. When we don't work on a Saturday we try to make up for it during the week, as we will this coming Tuesday evening.

You'd think we'd be done by now. And we are much closer than when we first began. But done?

Get real.

About a month ago, the doctor that took care of Mom lost his mother-in-law. His wife and her sisters had the house completely done in two weeks.

TWO WEEKS.

Somehow that seems obscene to me. To take the belongings of a lifetime and go through them while savoring memories, crying a little, missing a lot, and being both fearful of it ending and wishing it was over at the same time...that is in its own way honoring the one you loved in life and still love in death.

At least in my opinion. If, of course, you have the luxury of time.

However, there are times when that isn't possible. When my cousin lost her teenage son, she had to pack up his belongings quickly so that his brother, with whom he shared a room, could be in that room without any "ghosts" around. On the opposite end of the spectrum, others have told me of not being able to pack up anything belonging to a loved one a year or more after they're gone because they just aren't ready.

All of us go through this differently, in our own time. And ours just happens to be a bit slow.

We decided it would be a good idea for us to give away a good part of what was left to someone who really needed it. Today someone who had been through a rehabilitation program came and picked up enough furniture and household goods to get a fresh start in life. Granted, it wasn't top-of-the-line stuff, but it helped. And I think Mom would have approved.

The thing is, the house is getting emptier and emptier. We're taking it slowly on purpose. Deliberately. One reason is because we enjoy the time we spend together. No one else shares the memories we do. Another is that the more gradual it is, the less it seems to hurt. And we don't want to see it end...but we want to see it end.

The next big decision we need to make is whether or not to use an auction house to sell the contents and the house. We won't have enough for just an auction of the contents. However, if we use an auction company, we will have to let them take both a percentage of the sale of the contents and pay them an additional fee to auction the house. If the house doesn't sell for what we believe the minimum price should be, we're out the additional fee. The other choice would be to run our own estate sale, then list the house with a realtor.

But this is all something to think about tomorrow...or the next day....or the next....

An Update on That Which Is Driving Me Crazy

It's really not so much that the whole remodeling business is causing me to become one with my inner psychotic self. Truly it isn't. The livingroom update is actually going quite well, as you can see by the photos.

It's just that it's been ELEVEN DAYS NOW. ELEVEN WHOLE DAYS.

The furniture was supposed to have been delivered last Monday.

I still have not decided on a paint color.

The bookshelf/entertainment center has been completed but still has to be stained, varnished and installed.

There is no mantel for the fireplace.

We now have to paint the ceiling in the kitchen as well as the livingroom since we disposed of the hateful spindles between the kitchen and the livingroom.

We have not even begun to think about the floors.

At this rate we should be able to take delivery on the furniture sometime in 2017.

And for some reason my head jerks to the right every few seconds.

On a brighter note, I have already picked out the color for the ceiling...

The Dreadin' O' The Green

St. Patrick's Day is just around the corner.

In the Kansas City area, we have a yearly parade on that day that would dare to compare with those in greater Irish communities. It's a tradition that has been going on for as long as I can remember, and it seems to have grown larger with each passing year. We have had upwards of 100,000 people attend, all bedecked in green and proclaiming Irish roots - at least for the day. Green beer flows from fountains (or kegs) on every corner.

In the past the parade was held in the downtown area. But this year that's all going to change. There's a new route that will take the parade directly in front of my office.

Here's what that means for me.

1. Increased security at both the front and back of the building to keep revellers out.


2. Blocking entrances to the parking lot and manning the entrances so that only authorized people can get in.


3. Moving company vehicles to a different location.


4. Getting parking passes out to guests.


5. Restricting "friends" of employees who may want to watch the parade from here - in other words, being the bad guy.


6. Arranging for trash and debris to be picked up afterward.


7. Keeping everyone calm.

The good part? My physical office has windows that look out onto the street, and they're high enough to where I can see above the crowd with no problem. The ornamental pear trees outside my window haven't leafed out yet, so I'll have a clear view. I'll try to post pictures for you (if I have time to take any) so you can get an idea of both the size of the crowd and the parade itself. I may even try to get up on the roof to do that.

Look at it as just another service provided to you, the reader, from us, the team here at HUW.

All one of us.

Some Stuff And A Plea For Help

Here it is, Sunday night. The clock says 9:15 p.m., but my body says it's an hour earlier. I hate, despise, and generally loathe every time we switch from "regular" to Daylight Savings Time and back again. If I had my choice, we'd stay on DST year in and year out.

After all, I'm old. I can be cantankerous if I want to.

Speaking of being old, it seems as though the personal summers I thought were a thing of the past, aren't. I can't understand why everyone yells at me when I turn on the attic fan. After all, it's at least 68 degrees in the house and I'm breaking a sweat.

You'd think they could cut me a little slack.

Boyfriend and Girlfriend were here for the evening meal, and the topic at the dinner table was gross animal stories. With apologies to any vegetarian or animal rights readers out there, of course. The conversation took a turn toward roadkill, livestock castration, and how many different animals can be made into chili.

Anyone want to make a reservation at Maison de Chris?

In other news, one large wall remains to be sheet rocked before the mudding begins. Hubster works at his own pace, and I will not hurry him. I called to request the furniture delivery be delayed by a week, and I may have to call again depending on how things go.

This is a reasonable facsimile of one of the chairs. In real life the print is smaller and the cinnamon color shows up much more. The couch and chair-and-a-half are the same cinnamon color without the floral print.

I believe in some parts of the country they call that a "solid color."

Which just goes to show I always take the long way around everything I do.

So Interpeeps, I need your advice. Knowing that I now have actual WALLS to PAINT, what color would you paint those very walls? The sage green that you can't quite see on the floral print is out, since Hubster feels as though we have too much green in the house. That would be our entryway and hallway. And bear in mind that one of these chairs will go in front of each window on either side of the fireplace, so I'll have to have window treatment suggestions as well.

And the decorating? It is not my strong suit. Even though I do love this chair, as hideous as some of you may think it is.

Anxiously awaiting your opinions, and if you could give me URLs so I could see the colors you're talking about, por favor, I would greatly appreciate that!

Pulling The Rug Out From Under Her

Lizzie is in crisis.

Her routine, indeed, her whole world, is in chaos right now.

Every morning Hubster comes in from his job. The first thing he does is to let Lizzie out of her kennel in the office, located just behind the living room. She trots around the dining room and kitchen, through the living room and out the back door.

While she's doing her business in the back yard, Hubster fills her dishes with food and water. Her dishes are located just inside the kitchen on the linoleum. He then opens the back door to let her in.

She races to the food bowl, takes a bite, then steps out into the living room to crunch it down on the carpet.

Only now there's no carpet anymore. So she hasn't been eating.

It's almost as if she's mourning the loss of the carpet.

To make her feel better, we took her dishes and placed them in the dining room, which is still carpeted. Thankfully, she ate. However, that's a short-term solution as our goal is to remove that carpeting as well.

Poor Liz. She may end up eating on a throw rug somewhere.

And So It Begins...

This is the scene that greeted me as I came home from work today. It seems as though the demolition is actually taking place.

And the furniture is coming a week from today.

Somehow I feel as though we're in an episode of some HGTV show gone very, very wrong. After all, aren't there supposed to be hordes of people helping out with this? Shouldn't there be a designer and a crew of carpenters and painters and all sorts of lackeys to help?


No, Lizzie doesn't count. All she wants to do is curl up in the carpeting and shred the padding. Some lackey she is.

There used to be a bookcase on top of the right side of this half wall. It went almost up to the ceiling. But from the top of the bookcase to the ceiling were several spindles, which REALLY gave it that stuck-in-the-70's look. The left side was just spindles. We were a spindle-happy bunch.

Just so you know, I hate spindles. No offense to you spindle-lovers out there. They just aren't my bag.

This shows the wonderful spot on the ceiling. You know, the one that's been there since we moved in? Hey, it's over a stairway, and there were all these spindles... Besides, we've only lived here for TEN YEARS or so.

But the best surprise of all was what we found when the carpet was pulled back.


Pegged hardwood floors! After all these years of steam cleaning the carpeting, after all the abuse it's taken, we expected the floor underneath it to look awful. However, these floors look so nice we could almost clean, wax and buff them alone instead of refinishing them.

Now I'm excited.

Scared to death it won't be finished before it needs to be, but excited nonetheless.

Wonders of the Weekend

Yesterday we were the recipients of several inches of what has become that vile white stuff known as snow. It was thick, it was deep, it was slick.

So I went shopping.

Sis called to cancel on the weekly house breakdown at Mom's, so I took The Girl to work at a local craft and decor store. I don't often shop there since I don't want to hear about how I embarrassed her when she gets home from work. Because, as all parents do, I have a penchant for cackling loudly for no reason whatsoever at inappropriate times, scratching odd places on my person, and using words with too many syllables when carrying on conversations with my imaginary friends. But only in the presence of The Girl and her fellow employees, supervisors, and other customers.

However, this particular store was having an 80% off sale on selected merchandise, and being as I need to re-accessorize when the new furniture eventually comes in sometime in late 2117, I braved the elements. Besides, The Girl needed a ride to work because she didn't want to drive in all the white stuff. She suffered through.

An hour and a half later I left the store with a swag, two oval-ish columnar candles of different heights, a holder for the candles, three candle/fireplace butane lighters, and a beautiful red-ish crackly-glass jar with a gold lid. Not only did I get 80% off on most of it, but I got The Girl's employee discount of an additional 15% as well. The whole transaction cost me immensely few dollars and little cents.

Unlike the subsequent trip to our friendly Mart of the Wal.

When the kids were in diapers and I made my weekly trip there to replenish my supply, I could never leave the place for less than $50. That amount has tripled over the years. Of course, I don't go there every week anymore either, so there is that. However, instead of the $15 package of diapers I used to get, I'm now in charge of four different kinds of deodorant, mouthwash, contact lens solution, face wash, untold bottles of shampoo, body wash, conditioner, hairspray, mousse, gels, razors, shaving cream, and all manner of other unmentionables.

Sigh.

We missed church last night. I had to pick The Girl up from work, Hubster was helping Eldest Son with some plumbing, and we ended up doing the grab-whatever-you-can-find for dinner.

We made up for the lost service last night by going to church today. After lunch we started on the living room remodel. We got the small bookcase emptied.

And quit.

Somehow I think we may have bitten off more than we can chew in a reasonable amount of time.

Should I be scared yet?