Bailey Meets an Endangered Species

29 06 2010

"Naw Bailey! Dat's mmmyyyyyy sea turtle!"

So what if I got a Webkin?
It reminds me of when we went to Mexico and I opted to pass on a fire-onyx-and-other-gemstones turtle in a jewelers store and when I decided I wanted it, we couldn’t remember which store it was at… “Where’s that damn turtle?” is now a phrase we use when it’s time to shit or get off the pot.

Daily Dose of WTF.

25 06 2010

For some reason, I seem to have the oddest run-ins with people… e.g. the intern who announced his arrival and took a cup of water to the restroom, the homeless candy thief , the “who just called me?”….

My boss comes in from the hallway. “There’s a couple of guys walking around, door to door, with big hats.”
“Like big funny hats or stetsons…”
“Like Hassidish Jews.”
“Oh. Um. Okay.”

A few minutes later, they walk into the office.
“Hello.” I say.
“Hello. Today is Jewish Awareness Day.”
“So, we were wondering if there was anyone Jewish in this office.”
“Um, well, I really won’t know that…”

I’m sure the look on my face was priceless.

This doesn’t happen to everyone, does it.

Bridge Burning Prevention

18 06 2010

Hey Reader(s),

What is a good way to tell, or strongly allude to, someone that they’re being rude?
Telling them, “That was rude.” is going to cause some damage.
And ignoring the comment just bears the comment repeated.

I know I need a thicker skin, however, why do I always have to be the one to play defense, why can’t some people realize they’re being lint-lickers?
Why can’t I be the one to say, “WRONG” instead of acting like I’m not bothered by it, because I clearly am.

One example… “Whoa preggo! Look at you!” in a sing-song voice.
Reply: “Yes, I am pregnant, this is what happens.” is met with scoffs, however, I do not need everyone and their mother pointing out that I’ve got a belly.

Another example… “Pointing out the obvious!”
Reply: “What? Where?”

Natch, these are just two examples, but like, in general, any “nice” ways to tell people to STFU or GTFO?


Update 6/19/10: Holy crap. I had a light-shining-down-revelation last night… the person who is giving me the most grief is passive-aggressive… let the research to the point of nausea begin!!!!

Home Ownership Is FUN Theater: What it means when your contractor says, “I don’t even understand what these windows are!”

18 06 2010

(I was jostling between two posts, this one and one about how I can’t get over bad blood, but I’m tricking myself into feeling whimsical.)

Well before the idea of TBD came around, we knew that some most all except 3 windows in our house were going to have to be replaced.
The windows in TBD’s room and the office (front-facing) are all quite leaky, which we remedy with the ever chic plastic and keeping the doors closed. Our front bay window has the same drafty issues, however an adorable chocolate  lab thinks that she can’t defend the house if the windows are sealed, thus she rips holes in it*.

Now that the Being Responsible Parents Instinct is kicking in, we knew we had to move on getting the windows done.
The Plan: Measure windows, go to Big Box Home Store, pick up windows. Depending on price, install or have installed. VOLIA!

The Reality:  Pick up pamphlet from store. Read pamphlet. At least we have a jumping off point… under $200 a window. $100 installation unless we can figure it out. Estimating about $1k for the 3 bedroom windows. Determine that there’s something rotten in Denmark as we can’t seem to find the reference points to measure from. Determine we don’t really know HOW to measure these windows as per multiple reference books.

The New Plan: Call referred contractor. At least we can get the dimensions and some idea of what we’re getting ourselves into.

The Reality: Contractor comes over, can not understand where these windows came from as they’re not circa 1985.

Choice Commentary: “Are these? WHAT are these?”,  “Did they install from the outside?”, “Can you get your hands on some additional siding?”, “I don’t quite know what I’m going to find when we get this window out…”, “This window (kitchen) is not for a house, this is for a trailer/RV.”, “Where did they get these from?”, “Why isn’t there any trim work on these?”, “These aren’t even replacement windows…**”

The Harsh Reality: Our upstairs window  job has now over doubled our estimates “to do it right”. Our front window is also an insane amount due to 1 large piece of glass and two smaller “sliders”. $1,300 to replace our 2’x’3′ kitchen window to something reasonable/acceptable/correct.

Of course, my DIY Dad was all “You can replace windows!”
“They aren’t ‘normal’ windows to begin with… we can’t just pop them out and replace them.”
“Sure you can!”
“Um, no, we can’t. They’re installed wrong and we lack the know-how.”
“You can do it!”
“We are not replacing the windows ourselves. Sorry. We’re just not going to do it…”
“I replaced the windows on our old house!”
“Yes, I know, but these windows are different and aren’t that easy.”
“Neither were those!”
“The final word is that we’re going to pay someone to replace our windows and that’s that.”
“Just sayin’ that…”

*How do I know it’s Beans? We sealed the windows before heading to Europe for two weeks, sans incident upon return. Bailey comes home for one day and there’s tears… just puttin’ two and two together.
** Apparently there’s something about even “new build” windows being replacement, whatever that means.

Partial End Result…

17 06 2010

Last week I had talked about peeling wallpaper,scrubbing walls and painting and, well, here’s the fruits of my labor.
Well, okay, Steve helped…

From the hallway, "before"

From the hallway, with NEW CARPET and paint

Windowed wall, "Before"

Windowed wall, wacky green #1

Windowed wall, wacky green #2

Funny thing is, the entire room is painted the same color, for some reason, it just shows up different.

Before moving the furniture back into the front room, I washed the walls and well, clearly the carpet isn’t the only thing I should have been embarrassed about.
“Is my nesting kicking in or is our house trashed?”
“Oh, it’s trashed.”
“Whew! Glad it’s not just me!”
He was installing the trim upstairs while I was cleaning the items to put back into the front room. Ew. So, our house is still 75% trashed, but there’s no place available to vacuum, so we’re in a catch-22.

2 more days of chaos…

14 06 2010

Can I tell you how ecstatic I will be when we finally get the carpet installed?
No, I can’t tell you because I’m pretty sure I’m going to turn into a giant ball of sunshine.

We spent yesterday moving furniture out of our front room and into the kitchen.
1) He says, “I’ll call Teppo to come help move this stuff.”
“But I wanna help!”, I whine.
“*look of ‘woman, you’re crazy’*”
“Here here. Just because I’m creating human life doesn’t render me incapable! I need to feel useful. I will try helping you and if I don’t feel as though I can help, I will let you know. PPPLLLEAASSSEEEE.”

2) Furniture included: reclining sofa, 2-piece hutch (emptied), antique sewing machine (I had no part in moving), various tables/lamps, papasan chair.
3) There will be no “before” photos of the cleaned room/carpet as we’re both torribly embarrassed by the status of the rug. It’s full of sunbleaching and vomitorium stains.  Oh, and piles of animal hair that were trapped behind furniture. I found about 400 cat toys under the hutch. We promptly apologized to Bailey, who had been blamed for eating said toys.
4) I would love to promote my adoration for Furniture Sliders.

I made granola while we were moving, which mandated breaks every 10 minutes.
I know what you’re thinking, “Granola is so earth-crunchy as it is… who makes their own.”
This girl.
And it’s damn good.

TBD’s room is painted and emptied.
The stuff from TBD’s room is scattered around our second floor; between our room and the office. So those late night bathroom runs were 100% more challenging (over the end of the bed, over the dog, around the bed frame, pass the displaced items, into the bathroom, reverse).
I do have before photos of this room as there wasn’t too much damage. We decided to replace the carpet because it was pretty much The World’s Cheapest Berber. I’ll show them to you after the paint is dry and before/after the carpet install.

Hopefully, in two days, I will be able to move about my house again, without fear of breaking toes, bashing shins or tripping over something.

Next time on Home Ownership Is FUN Theater: What it means when your contractor says, “I don’t even understand what these windows are!” . Hint: $$$.

Curls, we totally paid someone to take out the busted carpet, haul it away and install the new carpet.

From the “Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time” File…

7 06 2010

Friday night saw me at the gym… I’m not gonna lie, it’s been 100% easier to be lazy on the sofa than to go for a 30 minute treadmill walk*. Plus, I had a meeting established with The Trainer, so I was obligated to go.
Dealing with some residual back pain**, The Trainer and I agreed to work on arms. And work we did. I even cranked up the weight on some exercises. By the time we were on our last exercise (weight assisted tricep dips) I insisted on finishing a set at a heavier weight. “Everything I do with endurance and ‘working though it’ is practice, I can do it and I will do it.” I may have scared my trainer.
100 oz of water into the night and I was ready for bed.

Saturday morning saw me up at 730 because TBD decided to stick his/her arm/foot into my ribs. FOR HOURS.
So I watched 3 hours of “Flip this House”.
After lunch, I steam cleaned the carpet in the front room*** and set to prepping TBDs room for paint.
People, I can not tout the wonders of a 2-to-1 vinegar water mix for removing wallpaper and backing.
Slight arm pain and regret start to set in.

Sunday morning we were scheduled to go “picking” with a cousin-in-law, however, the weather was not cooperating, so we ended up wandering the indoor stalls.
I ended up with nothing.
Back home, we finished patching and decided that the “right way” to paint the room would be to remove the moulding. And said  mouldng would probably be removed when the carpet was installed anyway, so we weren’t upset. Well, until we got the part where we couldn’t remove a piece because it was bumped against another piece which required removal starting at the opposite end of the room and necessitated the removal of the moulding around the doorframe.
The good news is that next week we only have to take out the bed and a dresser because EVERYTHING else is already cluttering up my office.
Patching , sanding, vacuuming and rewashing of the walls is done, painting to commence Tuesday.

Today, I can’t put my arms down.

How was your weekend?

* I posted a status update on Evil Facebook stating that I need to stop talking myself out of going to the gym (or whatever makes sense to say that I need to go back, ‘ever) and of course, I got the obligatory, “OMG, you don’t have to worry about your figure right now!” post… thing is, I never said I was worried about my figure. In fact, I’m the opposite of worried- I know that being fit will make the squishy-watermelon-out-of-a-stretchy-lemon less traumatic. And it’s about not being a lazy schmuck, eating Cool Whip from the tub on the sofa.
**It’s fine now. Yes I called the doctor.
*** Hopefully for the last time (for that rug), our carpet gets installed on the 15th!

In Which Stephanie Does Not Punch the Guy Behind her in Line for Ice Cream

1 06 2010

Oh, you’re still reading?
I thought that after giving you the synopsis in the title, you’d be off reading about something else.
Alrighty, off we go then.

Concluding my weekend of sun and fun (read: sit under canopy, avoid sunshine, shower multiple times a day, mow the lawn, get slobbery tennis balls thrown at my feet) on our way home from a friends house, I made the executive decision to stop for some ice cream.
I left Steve and Bailey in the YOT and waddled walked to the end of the line. There may have been 7-10 groups of people in front of me, but I didn’t care, I was getting ICE CREAM. Plus, it gave me time to flounder between a candy-and-ice-cream-swirl, a sundae, hard serve and soft serve. My brain is doing the happy dance of deduction.

“hhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaa.”, comes from behind me.
Like an antelope at the watering hole, I am alarmed.

Now my mind is racing… Do I look, do I not look? Wouldn’t people be running, screaming (not for ice cream, but in terror) if there was someone lining up with say, an axe or chainsaw? Or would they be all ‘let the pregnant lady take it, she can’t run as fast as we can!’?

What would a guy in a goalie mask sound like?

Then. It Spoke. “hhhrrrmmmmaa. Dey only got hhhhhhrrrrrrr one person werkin’ mmmmmmaaaaaa in dere?” And I can FEEL this person getting closer to me.  Is he talking to me? Do I look like I work at the stand, you know, standing in line with a tank top, skirt and flip-flops? Does he want to engage me in conversation? Is this one of those times where I should take a look at the people around me and decide if this is really where I need to be?
I keep quiet. Meanwhile, he sits on the picnic table, still huffing and puffing.
“mmmmmrrrrrraaa. Oh. Dare’s two of ’em in dare. hhhrrrrrmmmmm.”
Pft, I certainly hope he doesn’t consider asking me if he can skip ahead, though, it does sound like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get an ice cream soon.

For the next seven minutes, I have to listen to Jabba huff-n-puff-n-stuff behind me because standing up is such a task.
Look buddy, I’ve popped about 15 pounds in four months, don’t lecture me about how hard it is to stand around… you’ve clearly been dealing with it for a while now.

The couple in front of me (who also made me reconsider my desert of choice) get to the counter and I can feel Jabba getting excited.
Until, that is, they place their order. It was something like, 2 small cones, both with one scoop of butter pecan and one scoop of tracks but one on a regular cone and one on a sugar cone.
What a bizarre order!
Jabba lets out this exasperated sigh, the world is going to end!
Perhaps I should order something complicated.
“Medium vanilla soft serve with rainbow sprinkles, please.” And I pay (mu hahaha, I did dig for change) and step to the side.
Jabba practically crashes into the window. Putting both sausage-fingered-hands on the ledge, he breathes his order, thus blocking the delivery of MY ice cream and retrieval of napkins.

I did not punch him.
The ice cream was worth it, BTW.