Tag Archives: humor

A note from the trenches

So I have mentioned that home renovation tends to leave The Mr. and I behaving like 5 year olds pushing each other down on the playground in a less-charming manner than we usually do.

I am happy to report that we made it through the work in the kitchen, which took us from this:

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to this:

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and then finally to this:

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With only a few days of living with this:

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Aided considerably by this:

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We farmed Jr out to NeNe and Pop for some of that time, and ate fruit and cheese off of a single cutting board while sitting on the floor of the family room.  If we weren’t so stressed out about how it was all going to come together, it would have been “romantic” and stuff.  (If we were escapees from a RomCom, and not two incredibly practical, cynical, ex-dwellers of a 1960’s highrise  condo that sucked our souls with each project we undertook and survived.)

I confess – I am in love.  Being the foodie/culinary school drop out that I am, it is HUGE to be back in a kitchen I love.

(Bust out the stretchy pants and double the cardio time, because I want to cook and cook and cook.  Then for dessert, I will sit and stare at my kitchen and think about what else I want to cook.)

The Mr. had other plans.  Kitchen finished?

On to 3 bathrooms.  All at once.  Complete gut jobs, each one.

 

I am a freaking refugee at the Home Depot, people.  I think I should have my damn mail forwarded:

Reluctantly Suburban Girl, c/o Home Depot,  Patio Furniture dept (Those new-fangled “it looks like it belongs in the living room, but it’s for the patio” type styles are remarkably comfy. Total sleeper possibilities.)

Finding an ever-lovin’ 60 inch vanity is like surviving a fiestaware ebay auction – all of the stock is online, and if you blink the one you want is out of stock again.  And HOLY CRAP are they expensive! I just want to set my dang flat-iron on something, but for what we are paying I feel like I should be able to fly it to work or something.  😐

We are just in the material buying phase now, with work to start in early May.

If you need me I will be on the back patio with one of these:

Photo Credit: Village Voice

Photo Credit: Village Voice

Depending on the time of day, I will either be using it to take a bath, or filling it with wine.

(Can we just go stare at the kitchen again?)

 

 

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Wrong end rainbow. Just Sayin’.

Bright colors are oh-so pretty.

This rule doesn’t really apply to “My toddler clearly ate a yellow crayon” diaper changes though. Shocking.

Just Sayin’.

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Fart walks ruined. Just Sayin’.

So, on the Patio at the Tree House, if you needed to say, relieve some pressure, you could do so with careless abandon.  The street noise would most likely cover you, and if not then it was still anyone’s guess where that trumpet had truly sounded off.

In the burbs? If a dog farts 3 yards down, everyone knows where that noise came from.

Cover blown.

Just Sayin’.

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Don’t Blink

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As the Mr. is snoring away upstairs at the moment, I find myself much as I was 2 years ago at this time – reclining on the sofa, fuzzy-warm ball of pooch curled in the bend of my legs, snoozing quietly smushed against me. Only 2 years ago, as I drifted off, pleasantly full of Pasquinis, Pillow Pet wedged under my 37 weeks pregnant bump, supported and cradled by the sofa-back, I had no idea that my next trip to the loo would change everything. I thought that ‘pop’ was Jr giving me a little nudge from in there, objecting to my getting us up from our comfy spot.

Binky-the-wonder-dog barely blinked when I exclaimed “Oh!” I looked at him – “did my water just break?” He sighed and repositioned himself on his end of the sofa. I did what any reasonable, educated mother-to-be would do.
I googled “did my water just break?” Google- not as cute as my dog, but way more informative in this situation.
Then stuff and things happened: Blah, blah, hilarious drive to hospital with The Mr. running lights while I expressed pain in increasingly horrifying ways…. yadda yadda, crawling into L&D like Gollum across the floor, requiring mucho assistance from The Mr. to remove skinny maternity jeans while speaking in tongues….. bibbitty bobbity exorcist anesthesiologist arrives and I reclaim my composure through the magic of drugs and stop asking to be hit over the head with a frying pan; and 12 plus not short hours later, after just the smallest application of the glorified salad tongs, Tah-Dah -Jr.!!
And a minute later he came home, and the next hour he smiled, rolled over, sat up…. and the next morning he was eating puffs and had a mouthful of teeth, and that afternoon he went from doing his infamous bootie-scoot to a few steps and then a run. I turned away a second and he was 1 year old, and we were packing his things and moving from the cozy nursery in his first home and into The Casa, and now a few short days from then he is talking like he gets paid to do it and will be driving the car and leaving for college next week.

No? Ok- but that is how these past 2 years have felt. 2 years ago I was just as I am now, couch and dog and snoozing in front of the TV. Just a few hours away from absolutely everything.

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#GetAClue. Just Sayin’.

Extreme overuse of not-meant-ironically hashtags is my  #biggest #socialmedia #petpeeve.

#Awful  #Clueless #StopIt

Just Sayin’.

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