Recently in home ownership Category

Okay, so I missed a week or two. Shoot me. No, don't.  I have too many projects to finish. Either way:

• My brother is out of Afghanistan! He is safe and sound with his family!  I am so grateful!
• I had a wicked awful dream that could make a killer plot for NaNoWriMo if I can flesh it out more.  I always wanted to write at least one horror novel.  Just one.  One that is enough to make the skin crawl in the shadows of the night.  Just one.
• On an SCA front, we will have a new Baron and Baroness this weekend, and I'm already seeing those I determined will be total dickheads fulfill my expectations and several I thought would fall to the wayside declare they will do the best they can for the good of our Barony.  Those latter folks make me feel proud.  The others will definitely get a good scowling.
• My craft room is functional!  Super Hubby taught me to lay tile, so I spent the weekend ripping up carpet and laying said tile in a non-sexual manner, and feeling quite proud of myself.  Of course, I wish he had some advice for not wearing most of the adhesive.  I couldn't get my damn shoe off...
• My craft room is functional!  It bears repeating.  It's not finished, but oh, the paper mache and paint will splatter once again!  I'm all giddy and stuff!
• I finished an emergency embroidery project that was well-received by our baroness-elect.  Of course, I forgot to take pictures.
• Apparently, Zombie Apocolypse is the theme for this year's Halloween party.  That was the original plan, sure, but we couldn't get the venue we wanted, so I thought I'd put it off until next year when there's more time to plan...  Yeah, I had people and their children - seriously, their kids - pout at me.  The words "But, Richard has been planning this all year." came to me and I had to relent.  So, zombies.  This is not a bad thing, but the difference in venue definitely poses some interesting hurdles.  No time to teach the zombies how to do the Thriller dance, though.  Bummer.
• Next year's Halloween party theme is Freak Show.  Oh, yes, baby, I so have plans...
• It's going to be hot as hell for the event this weekend, isn't it?  *sigh*
• Oh, wait, it's supposed to rain all weekend, so the humidity will prevent me from actually being able to get out of my dresses.  Joy.
• Weight Watchers...still doing it...sort of...I keep hoping for the jello-giggly mindset to turn to concrete...
• Holy moley I want a whole lot of chips.
• Tomorrow will ben an adventure of juggling.  Eventually, we will get to site.  Whether or not we have food, we'll see.

And, this introduces your Friday.  Friday will be as plain or awful as you see it.  It's Friday.  It's always better than monday by default.  Live it up! ________________________ I am totally counting the points for these italics.  Totally.  Maybe.  Well shit.  This was easier on paper.

So, yeah, the older I get, the less tolerable of heat I get. I love me some cold weather.  Bundled up under coats and blankets.  Cozy and warm.  Mmmmmm. Summer blows.  I can only take off so much and even then I risk scaring the neighbors, poor dears. Now, granted, I believed my anti-summer moments were reserved to me, the Hubby, and random  weird person visiting from Antartica. Recently, I came home to this sight. [caption id="attachment_429" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Overheated bunny says, "Uuuuugh.""][/caption] Funnily, this was after me getting out of my car and thinking, "Geezus, it's as humid as Louisiana.  How the hell do we deal with it?" Apparently by stretching out as far as we can on a pile of rocks to reduce body heat and barely breathing enough to make the owner of your current territory fear she will have to pick up a bunny carcass. I'm all about backyard wildlife, but not so much with the cleaning up of bodies. ___________________________________ The bunny appears to be okay.  So does her boyfriend.  Yes, there are two.  One hops away and doesn't have very dangly parts jiggling...that's the little girl.  We don't expect babies because it may be too late in the year.  At least the wildlife expresses my extreme dismay over the heat.  It's nice to know Mamma Nature gains sanity every once in a while.

I don't know what the hell is up with Wordpress right now.  I keep getting these weird errors that go away if I reload. It's happening a lot lately.  If anyone has problems, let me know.  I might have to have Super Husband look at the code. Yeah, so I've been looking in the mirror, which is a whole lot of dangerous. I've gained a lot of weight.  I really need to do something about that. Here's the hysterical thing: I was hanging with the girls last night after we fed and then kicked the guys out the door (nearly literally) and K. was talking about how her baby might be allergic to corn syrup.  I made a comment about how that will be hard because she couldn't eat anything and how I might be jealous of that.   A. looked at me and said, "Pretend you're allergic."  That immediately set off my "Why the hell didn't I think of that" alarm.  So, today, I set about nixing the things with corn syrup to which I was faux allergic.  Wouldn't you know that we only have the soda we keep for guests and one bottle of salad dressing that fits that bill?  My really easy diet solution just sprouted wings and flew out the window. Dammit. You know, all that argument about high fructose corn syrup making you fat seriously crashes when it's not even in your house. I suck at counting calories.  I'm looking at the things I can cut out of my diet.  Imagine a smoker going cold turkey.  This will not be pleasant. I've also come to terms with the fact that I may have to allow myself to jump into the evil white-water river that is Facebook.  People don't send fucking emails these days.  They just update Facebook.  I can't find out what my friends are doing otherwise.  (Except for those few who are resisting.  I feel so weak.) As I've said on my equally evil Twitter account: it will be the grumpiest Facebook ever.  "Fuck you all!  Now, what the hell are you up to?" I am afraid of the friends list that will create. Speaking of creating, there has been little of that these days.  This disturbs me.  A lot of it is because our "mess room" has not be set into motion. That needs to happen soon.  Partially because I have this incredible desire to shop for peel-and-stick floor tiles at the Dollar Store as has been recommended to me, and also because I refuse to make a bigger mess in our almost empty sunroom than the cats have already achieved.  The recommendation by a friend to call it the Vomitorium might not be far-fetched.  (Fucking cats.  They feel the need to puke, and of course, they choose the only carpeted place in the house.) My mom has also offered me a chance to sell my stuff at her local farmer's market.  I think my permanent jack o'lanterns might go over well. Only one way to find out. Also, just for the randomness:  Ymac Sumac had a friggin' amazing voice! Google her if you don't know.  It will increase your Google-Fu powers. ____________________________ Yeah, so it's not the most coherent post, but ask me if I care.  It's what's happening that's a helluva lot more interesting than the fact we got new curtains for the den.  A part of me is seriously thrilled, the other part wants to kill the obviously house-wifey part and bury her under the poorly-made wishing well created by the previous owner.

I have no idea what the random error messages on my blog are about, but if you reload they go away.  Weirdness follows me. For instance: the Mystery Switch. [caption id="attachment_424" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Its innocence is deceiving"][/caption] It leads to something.  We're not sure what.  We checked all the outlets and the ceiling fan.  The switch next to it is the porch light.  When we turn on the Mystery Switch, the lights dim as if something is happening.  Short of nuclear missiles arming and readying to launch our doom from the secret silo under our house, we haven't a clue what this thing is about.  The husband even stood out in the driveway and muttered at the house, waving his arms, but it didn't give up its secrets.  (Yes, yes, he did.  And, you know, compared to the shuffling old man up the street with his shorts pulled up to his chest, this is normal.) The husband is now on a mission.  The source of the Mystery Switch shall be discovered. More details to follow even if they include "What the hell do you mean the wires lead to a goat in a giant hamster wheel?" You know, hysterically enough, I get clients asking me regularly if we've found more "What the hell?" moments in our house.   I told them no.  I cursed us. Maybe worse than I thought. So, my brakes needed changing in my car.  So did the oil.  (I've been kind of neglecting my car for personal reasons and have finally come to terms with why, who, it's not her fault, and I really don't want another car note.)  Much to the total shock of regular women, the fact I can change my oil is an awe-inspiring concept.  Seriously, folks, it's not that bloody hard.  If the place you take your car to charges more than $20 or $25, you better ask if the oil filter is on fucking Mars and can only be reached if the right sacrifice is laid upon the alter; otherwise, they are charging you too damn much. Anyway, so it needed to be done and we awoke early to try to avoid the ungoldy heat of mid-day.  Lucky for us, the ungodly humidity felt the urge to visit early.  Joy. So, we opened the carport storage room to get the things for the car and there was  a rather strange noise... Todd: Well, crap. Me: What? Todd: You really don't want to see what I'm looking at. Me: Well, now I need to look. Yes, maladies and germs, the water heater blew its seals and was dumping its contents into the storage room which were kindly running under the house. Off to call the Warranty Folks we went. You know, I don't know from warranty people, but anyone who can get a plumber out to replace a water heater on a Saturday is a  miracle worker Jesus should hold in respect.  (Send your complaints about my comparison to learntotakeajoke@lightenup.com.)  So, we have a new water heater, and it only cost us $55.  If anyone tells you new homebuyers to not get a home warranty, please give said person a wedgie because that person obviously needs some humiliation for being a total ignorant dweeb. I love being a homeowner, even through all the the incidentals and random moments of "What the hell?"  At least you know in the end, it's still yours.  When it's a rental, all you can do is count the days it takes the landlord to fix the damn problem before you call the real estate commision. Yeah.  We don't miss it at all. Besides, there's no way in hell we could have gotten a plumber to come over on a Saturday. There is more.  I know there is.  I suspect the cabinets under the kitchen sink lead to a dimensional portal that sucks up sponges.  Prove that I'm wrong. _________________________ Seriously, ya'll, changing y0ur oil isn't hard.  Unscrew the plug, let it drain into the oil container.  When it's finished, unscrew the oil filter and let it drain some more.  When it's finished, screw the plug back in, replace the filter with a new one, and refill it with oil.  It might be dirtier than baking a cake, but it's simpler.  Your fathers lied to you.

We've had yard revelations recently.  Some good.  Some bad.  Some, huh? We bought a push mower.  I admit, if it doesn't work out, it's my fault.  We have a small amount of yard, and I seriously didn't want to spend money on a gas mower that's way too damn much for our yard or an electric mower with a cord I'm destined to run over.  Look, I admit my limitations.  I have no sense of direction.  I can't sew worth a damn on a sewing machine.  Gas-powered machines other than cars, and sometimes even then, scare me.  I like simple machines because I understand them.  Or, at least, I understand they won't run over my feet without some form of aid. We also bought an electrice trimmer.  This I don't mind so much.  It's lighter than our vacuum and easily maneuverable, so I don't fear the cord. Now, we need said trimmer because our grass is long enough at the moment that anything relatively tall really just gets pushed over by the mower.  This is why if your lawn is relatively manacured, the push mower is perfect.  It will keep it up with little problem and you only need to hose it off.  But, at the moment, we're fighting a jungle and while the push mower does well, it mostly just runs taller things down and keeps moving to more manageable stuff. I don't mind yard maintenance except I know nothing about it.  Yards to me just grow and kind of wave at you when they need a cut. Yeah, well, you all know that's not the truth. Funny thing is we have some guerilla gardening going on in our yard.  I walked to the side of our house and was greeted by this: And, this... Now, the front of our house isn't an eyesore, but definitely lacks in landscaping.  The trees are nice, but the planting area against the front wall is made up of a lot of dirt and one lonely, rather pathetic rosebush.  Someone didn't even really try. What we couldn't figure out was why the previous owner would put such gorgeous plants on the side of the house and not in the front where people could actually see it.  But, then, we didn't really wonder for long because, well, this is the same guy who had a kamikaze approach to DIY.  Just as we were going to get back to work, our neighbor, Ms. Brownie, drives up with her daughter, who she promptly wants to introduce to us.  (Why does this always happen when I'm wearing the rattiest clothing?) I asked Ms. Brownie what the flowers were because she has l33t gardening skills.  They are hydrangeas, and she planted them.  Apparently they've been there for years as a testimate to her enormous green thumb.  She said it was funny because these bushes became huge in our side yard, but the one in her yard was like a sickly child who never really tried.  I don't mind.  I think they're gorgeous, and considering it will be next year before we can plant and I have been known to have anything green cry in my presence, I'll take what I can get. Incidentally, have I mentioned lately I love our neighbors? Since beginning this post, we have managed to get the yard into a more suburbia-acceptable state, much to the dismay of the resident yard bunny, whose twitchy nose has been absent ever since push mower scared him to a blind panic across the street. I hope he comes back.  There's just something about having a resident yard bunny. Until then, I leave you with a bunny blur: ____________________________________ Of course, there are plenty of fornicating squirrels around here right now.  I'm just sure people would rather look at squirrel porn than the resident yard bunny.  I'm sure your lives just aren't complete withouts squirrel porn. Man, I wish I still tracked my google hits.  I'm sure that last paragraph will send some of the more interesting dregs of the internet to Ye Olde Blog.

VERY, VERY BAD: Because of the color of their food and the fact little changes until it comes out the other end, cat puke is incredibly hard to see on wood floors, especially in dim light when you're half asleep and not wearing shoes. Can I get a "Holy Shit that's gross!"

I love our wood floors.  Love them!  When we first looked at this house I was excited about two things: there was no wallpaper, and the original wood flooring had been kept and not hidden by some hideous shag carpeting. Of course, switching to wood flooring after living in a place with carpeting for so long takes some adapting.  If anyone is thinking of getting a house with wood floors or installing them in your current home, here's the good and bad of it: GOOD: Wood floors tell you immediately when they are dirty:  Oh, sure, that's every other day, but carpet takes weeks to announce it's holding enough dirt and crap to choke even the most long-winded politician. BAD: Wood floors make you sound like Godzilla: Sad thing is, no matter how lightly you walk, if you have wood floors, especially in a house with a crawl space, the resultant echo when you walk is not unlike a small localized earthquake.  Even the lightest cat in the house sounds like a rhino in the middle of the night. GOOD: Wood floors are beautiful: These are floors that came original to the house.  They have flaws and wear and tear from being under carpet, but they have their own indescribable charm.  Carpet just sits there and looks self-absorbed.  (And, gods, ya'll don't want to know what its' absorbing.) BAD: Litter on hardwood floors + bare feet in the middle of the night = The Owstupiddamncats Dance. GOOD: Everything is easily moved:  Even the heaviest pieces of furniture move with little effort over a hard wood floor.  It erases the need for deciding on the Generic Florida Beach House style just so you can get wicker that you can actually vacuum under. BAD: Everything is easily moved:  It's bad when your husband gets into bed and the bed rolls to the other side of the room.  It's even sadder when he manages to grab the window sill and, with manly strength, reposition the bed only to find rolling over will shift the bed to the opposite side of the room.  I'm sure it definitely sucks when your wife is standing there, watching this, practically wetting herself with laughter.  But, hey, at least I was entertained.  (Although, whenever you flop over and the bed lists you have this incredible urge to sing sea shanties or at least go searching for a bottle of rum.) GOOD: Wood floors are easy to maintain: Ya'll even the odd blop of spilt paint comes off.  Most scratches can be polished out, but even the deeper ones can be sanded. BAD: Wood floors require various tools in which to clean them: Okay, it's the same for linoleum, but with carpet you need a vacuum and maybe, from time to time, a carpet shampooer.  This is, once again, why horrors from the beyond can hide in the carpet fibers, but that's beside the point.  (Yes, I keep mentioning it. Seriously, once you get a really good vacuum, you become seriously horrified by what comes out of carpet, especially with the knowledge it's still not picking it all up. Ugh.)  With wood floors, you need a broom and dust pan to get the big stuff, like litter, off the floor.  And, because dust bunnies and fur tumbleweeds fear a broom and run away to hide in the corners.  Those require a dust mop or a swiffer.  Then, of course, you need a good mop and a special wood soap to mop the floors.  And, if you feel so inclined, you can actually "wax" the floor with Pledge to protect, moisturize, and initiate Cat Capades as traction goes comepletely out the window. (Not sure that's really a bad thing.)  And, of course, because dirt can't hide on wood floors, you have to do this more often.  The price for beauty. GOOD: Cat Capades: Cats are funny.  Most times they are lazy lumps covered in fur whiling away their days in a sun beam only really giving you the time of day when they need to be a) fed and/or b) worshipped like the feline gods that they are.  Other times, for some reason only they know, they are great blurs of panic tearing around the house in an attempt to either run off some energy or catch up with their insanity.  Now, this sudden need to be on the other side of the house at the highest speed possible is funny in itself.  It becomes hilarity when you add to the equation a definite lack of traction.  What this equals is one of two things: running, running, running but getting no where or Cat Pinball where a panicked attempt to regain traction only leads to bouncing madly from wall to wall in the hallway.  If you are lucky, you might also witness Bumper Cats, in which the objects they bounce off of are other cats;  Spin Out, where the attempt to stop results in a swirling cat tornado that still crashes into a wall; or the ever popular Mad Flail, which is usually seen when the floors are damp or waxed in which each leg tries to go a different direction in a great spasm of confusion that makes the cat look like it's being controlled by a puppeteer having a seizure.  Wood floors can be very entertaining. BAD: Kitty rearranging: Yeah, so as I pointed out earlier, things move easily across wood floors.  Cats aren't big creatures.  (Well, most cats. Tabster is two cats in a larger cat costume.)  But, they have the ability to increase their mass at will.  So, your small, sleek, fluffy Baby Girl might dash through the house like the wind but will hit a chair with all the force of a bowling ball launched from a catapult, especially if chased by another cat.  Furniture doesn't stand a chance.  It isn't uncommon to come home and find the house completely rearranged.  I have to tell you, felines have no sense of Feng Shui. GOOD: Wood floors creak: Okay, that might not seem like a good thing, but imagine you're home alone, watching a horror film, in the dark, the cats all around you, tension thick enough in the air to touch, when a deep, footless creak sounds down the darkened hall, made only worse by the cats looking up and bristling...  You'd freak right?  Yeah, so would anyone who came over for Horror Movie Girls' Night.  The possibilities are endless! BAD: My floors don't creak that much:  I'll just have to resort to other twisted endeavors. Thus, the adventures in wood continue.  I'm sure I'm bound to find more fun, or have others send them to me.  Good, bad, they are still way more awesome than the evil that is carpet which is only slightly less evil than wallpaper. ______________ Hey, you know, I only just thought of that Horror Movie Girls' Night.  That would be totally awesome.  Once a month, instead of Stitch and Bitch, we have Horror Movie Night.  Good, Bad, Indescribably Evil...whatever the group votes on!  Ooooooh...I know my girls read the site.  Any votes?