Folded

The counter people sent me two hot young men to install my countertops.

Bonus!

I worked from home today, which I never do, since my work largely requires that I be at work. I kind of wish I didn’t know I could do this part here because it’s a drag, and I suck at concentrating on work at home when there are things to distract me. Here are some things from my day on the loose:

1. Daisy Duke is now on “The Young & The Restless.”
2. Dr. Phil: still quotable. Today’s gem was My attitude has always been ‘you can call me a sumbitch, but you’re gone do it from a distance.’
3. Tina Turner prefers silence. If she doesn’t get it, she will retire to her chair in the bedroom.
4. Those little English girls,  Sophia Grace and Rosie, are like little old ladies in tutus. I just want to pinch their cheeks.
5. Bruce Jenner looks like a homely woman. The diamond studs don’t help. Maybe hoops or something?

But you’re not here for this. You’re here about the kitchen. The counters have a cove ogee edge, which looks like it should be on furniture. It’s very fancy – it’s the fanciest thing in there. I like it. The backsplash is six inches, which is taller than normal, and looks really good.

The epoxies and what have you have to set for a day and then the plumber will come and put the water line back so I can use the sink and the dishwasher.

The sink is undermounted and I didn’t really believe in that, that permanent glue that was supposed to hold it under there, because so far, nothing in my life has been permanent. I’ve never had a permanent in my hair, but I know people who have, and despite what they’re called, they’re just temporary.

As far as I was concerned, they’d do just as well to stick that sink up there with unicorn spit and gem clips. But these guys had pre-drilled some holes in the bottom of the marble so as to screw it in, and there are some blocks and other things holding it there, so I guess it is permanent. In any case, I feel more confident than I did.

And here is the picture, which I think is all that really matters. Please note that I have folded the towel for the photo. 

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Home Improvement

When I was in the process of buying this house, everybody said, “you can move right in and not change a thing!”

Of course I had to change everything.

The first thing I had to do was pull out the horrifyingly cheap and ugly little vanity that took up most of the bathroom and the delightful light bar that matched it.

Then I launched into taking out the kitchen cabinets which at first glance looked clean and bright, but in reality were hastily assembled from cardboard boxes and were too narrow to even stash the dinner plates.

I only stopped pulling them out when my brother called and told me to quit it because I had to leave the one holding up the sink. Then I built myself a little base unit and hung some shelves on the wall and voila! Rudimentary kitchen!

I joyously bought a dishwasher and the whole thing went sour, but owing to an insurance settlement with the evil HHGregg, I was able to buy extremely nice new cabinets, which my brother and his helper installed for me.

At that time, I bought laminate countertops (which I have been perfectly satisfied with) because I didn’t know what I really wanted and I couldn’t have afforded it if I did. And I knew that I wouldn’t regret pulling out $250 worth of laminate when I did finally make up my mind.

So today, some time this afternoon, some men are coming over here to pull out my laminate counters and replace them with marble.

Several hours from now, I’ll have folded that dishtowel.

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You’re who?

Sometimes I have brushes with fame.

I’m pretty sure most people do, but they don’t notice it because they don’t pay attention to the people around them as well as I do.

That’s not a slam – certain people would make better witnesses and I’m one of them.

Back in the late 80s, there was a little movie about Jerry Lee Lewis called Great Balls of Fire, which I happened to have seen and loved. I also met Mr. Lewis when I was a child, but that’s a whole other story.

Also in the late 80s, I worked at the Atlanta Journal & Constitution as a production assistant.

Many of the real estate customers I had to deal with were pre-pay accounts for their display ads, and not getting their money upfront was a fireable offense. I made it my business to get that money.

Of course they wanted their ads in the Sunday Homefinder, but the deadline was Thursday at 5:00, firm.

At about 4:15, a Mrs. Williams called me and told me her ad had to run in the Sunday paper. I ran around and got everything together and called her back and told her she’d need to drive that check down or call in a credit card.

And then things became difficult.

Because I pay attention to details and I watch movies all the way through the credits and I have a mind like a steel trap, I knew who I was talking to, but I wasn’t touching it with a ten-foot pole.

I’d been on the phone with her, working on other ads that were legal to run ready to be released, for a good fifteen minutes.

She got loud, telling me that ad jolly well better run, or I would face Dire Consequences.

Now. I do not yell. I can count on one hand the number of times I have raised my voice in the last twenty years (aside from at sporting events). I was as kind and gentle as I could be, explaining that I would be fired if I ran that ad without the money in hand.

She just snapped and started shrieking at me.

“Now you listen to me! Do you know who I am divorced from?!!”

And then all bets were off.

I responded mildly, “Yes, ma’am, I do, and if Jerry Lee Lewis comes down here with a check for $25oo in the next half hour, that ad will be in Sunday’s paper.”

You have never heard a woman use words like that woman did right then. I very nearly asked her what she ate with that mouth.

 

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Guilty pleasures

I love watching shows on TLC.

Right now it’s Property Ladder, which is a show about people buying and flipping houses, people who can’t find their asses in the dark with both hands.

They buy these houses that need some degree of work done to them with the plan of making  A TRILLION DOLLARS IN EIGHT WEEKS.

And then they start ripping things out without A Plan.

Only they don’t know how to operate power tools. Or they forget to measure before they pull out the old tub (heavy and original to the house) and buy a new one (modern and garden sized). Which does not fit.

Then somebody wigs out.

They get all excited about sheetrock and have it put up all over the place, covering exposed wiring, and then they lie awake for a few nights, worried that it’s a hazard before they freak out and call an electrician.

They rip out all the new sheetrock, get the wiring redone, and put in more sheetrock.

It all kind of tickles me, because I know how to do many of those things, and more importantly, I know which of those things I don’t know how to do, so I enlist help.

I also know I can’t afford to buy a second house, so I’m safe from that craziness. For now.

And besides, I’ve chosen a different craziness for my golden years.

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Shoe Strife

This whole shoes-for-Italy business is getting to me.

I don’t want to take too many shoes with me because I only want to take the one bag (and my giant pocketbook), yet my instinct is always to take many shoes with me. There are two pairs of shoes in my office right now that are not on my feet. There are probably four pairs of shoes in my car.

I like to have choices, see.

But shoes are heavy and they take up a lot of room in a suitcase.

But what if I get there and my feet hurt? I hate it when my feet hurt. If my feet hurt, I just hurt all over, and I have a high tolerance for pain, so that’s some serious hurt.

I have been researching shoes for a month now. I have tried on dozens of pairs of shoes. I bought a pair of Dansko backless Mary Janes a week or so ago and they’re pretty decent, but they look…odd with socks. Without socks, they’re okay for piddling around, but I’m not so sure about hauling it around the Vatican in them. Might have to just wear the damn socks.

Here are the ugly shoes that came today:

You might note that these are also Mary Janes. They are red. The other ones are mulberry, which is to say red. I consider red a neutral, unlike the tan not-Mary Janes I bought last week and hastily returned. I have nothing that goes with tan.

I have a lot of Mary Janes. I have a lot of red shoes. I have a lot of red Mary Janes.

My fear is that these also look odd with socks, but I’m just going to have to look odd and remind myself that those people don’t know me and I’m never going to see them again anyway.  Plus I’m going to be rewearing my clothes, so I’ll be offensive in other ways.

I think I’ll go check the mail. My passport might be here.

 

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When the moon hits your eye…

The moon is full tonight and it looks like an egg yolk poured out on a piece of black glass. It’s hanging about three inches from the ground. I was frantic trying to get to a place where I could get a good shot at it, but no cigar.

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Urban Farmess

My friend Therra has posters of Elvis in her chicken coop.

Because chicks dig Elvis.

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Today’s truth

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. – Robert Brault

Isn’t that the gospel?

My good and great friend Jackie’s grandmother, the inimitable Mrs. Edwards, died last week.

Jackie and I were both our grandmother’s girls, and I don’t know where either of us would be without those beloved women.

I swiped this picture from Jackie’s Facebook. I hope she doesn’t mind.

Those are Mrs. Edwards’ hats, and they describe exactly the lady she was.

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Living like royalty.

Grimace and I are booked to stay in a minor palace in Rome.

In Florence we’re staying in the de Medici palace.

Let me repeat that.

In Florence we’re staying in the de Medici palace. 

I know, right?

One of the requirements for our Florence apartment was that it have a washer, because we’re taking very few clothes with us, and Florence is smack in the middle of our trip.

Yes, we’re very excited. No, we’re not wearing crowns.

The apartment is literally around the corner from the Duomo and the Baptistry.

We’re taking the train from Rome to Florence, which should be an adventure, but not nearly as much of an adventure as driving in Italy is. I’ve driven in Italy before; having survived that, not much scares me anymore.

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Ack-Acne

I have a zit the size of Chester, Georgia on my chin.

It’s erupting and it looks like where Satan himself is trying to crawl out of me.

It’s attached to my central nervous system, so it also hurts.

Back to your morning snacks.

That is all.

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