As promised, pics of the house!!
The Light Bulb Went On
Y'all know that saying about two heads being better than one. Well....
Jan asked, "Does WTB have a computer you can use for 5 minutes to post a photo????"
And the light bulb went on. Oh. I could borrow someone else's computer. Or, as I said out loud when I read Jan's comment from a couple posts ago, "Well, DUH!" So I'll ask my bestie Sharon if I can borrow her laptop for a bit this afternoon. I'm sure she'll say yes.
So, unless Sharon's busy, there will be photos here late this afternoon. (Sometime after 4 p.m. Central Time.) Photos of the porch brackets and the painted gables and the front of the house and the spruced-up back gate and whatever else I find on my digital camera that seems worth sharing.
Thanks, Jan!
Jan asked, "Does WTB have a computer you can use for 5 minutes to post a photo????"
And the light bulb went on. Oh. I could borrow someone else's computer. Or, as I said out loud when I read Jan's comment from a couple posts ago, "Well, DUH!" So I'll ask my bestie Sharon if I can borrow her laptop for a bit this afternoon. I'm sure she'll say yes.
So, unless Sharon's busy, there will be photos here late this afternoon. (Sometime after 4 p.m. Central Time.) Photos of the porch brackets and the painted gables and the front of the house and the spruced-up back gate and whatever else I find on my digital camera that seems worth sharing.
Thanks, Jan!
House of Vermin
First it was ticks. Then spiders. What next? A mouse, that's what.
I came home from Wal-Mart about 3 a.m. this morning to find two of the cats sitting on my stove staring intently at the range hood. I shooed them off and started unpacking groceries. Then I heard it: scrabble, scrabble, thump...scrabble, scrabble, thump. Coming from the exhaust vent above the range hood. Something was in there. Something alive. I took the screens off the range hood and looked up in there. Nothing. I briefly considered calling WTB, but given the hour, I thought he might not appreciate it. So I went to bed. And I dreamed of birds nesting in my vent, or a squirrel that somehow burrowed in there.
When I woke up this afternoon, there were the cats again on the stove. I wonder if they kept a vigil there all night long? I called WTB who came right over. (Of course he did; that what he does.) He took the screens off the range hood and then turned on the fan. "Well," he said, "I don't hear anything getting ground up in the fan blades." So he turned the fan off and stuck a knife up in there to prop the vent open. At which point a teeny little mouse dropped out onto the stove. I threw a towel to WTB, he threw it over the mouse, and we ran outside and across the street with it. When we let it go, the mouse ran straight for Carl's house. What a good neighbor I am, giving a mouse to Carl.
I came home from Wal-Mart about 3 a.m. this morning to find two of the cats sitting on my stove staring intently at the range hood. I shooed them off and started unpacking groceries. Then I heard it: scrabble, scrabble, thump...scrabble, scrabble, thump. Coming from the exhaust vent above the range hood. Something was in there. Something alive. I took the screens off the range hood and looked up in there. Nothing. I briefly considered calling WTB, but given the hour, I thought he might not appreciate it. So I went to bed. And I dreamed of birds nesting in my vent, or a squirrel that somehow burrowed in there.
When I woke up this afternoon, there were the cats again on the stove. I wonder if they kept a vigil there all night long? I called WTB who came right over. (Of course he did; that what he does.) He took the screens off the range hood and then turned on the fan. "Well," he said, "I don't hear anything getting ground up in the fan blades." So he turned the fan off and stuck a knife up in there to prop the vent open. At which point a teeny little mouse dropped out onto the stove. I threw a towel to WTB, he threw it over the mouse, and we ran outside and across the street with it. When we let it go, the mouse ran straight for Carl's house. What a good neighbor I am, giving a mouse to Carl.
On The Brink
It's 5:17 a.m. Sunday morning. Less than two hours til the end of my shift. I'm on the brink of three days off—wahoo!
And for once, I don't have to check the weather forecast because....this is exciting, folks....the biggest part of the house that's still unpainted is under the front porch roof. Yep, as I walked around the house last night before I went to work I realized the List of the Un-Done is pretty darn short: two windows on the east side of the house, a freizeboard on the dining room gable, one clapboard on the side porch, two more windows on the front porch, and the front of the house where the screen porch is.
Sooooo....not only am I on the brink of three days off, I'm also on the brink of finishing the outside of the house! Wahoo, indeed!
And for once, I don't have to check the weather forecast because....this is exciting, folks....the biggest part of the house that's still unpainted is under the front porch roof. Yep, as I walked around the house last night before I went to work I realized the List of the Un-Done is pretty darn short: two windows on the east side of the house, a freizeboard on the dining room gable, one clapboard on the side porch, two more windows on the front porch, and the front of the house where the screen porch is.
Sooooo....not only am I on the brink of three days off, I'm also on the brink of finishing the outside of the house! Wahoo, indeed!
Bugs!
Y'all know how I feel about bugs. I believe my fear and loathing of them has been well-established. The bugs and I reached an understanding last year: if they'd just leave me alone, I wouldn't kill 'em. Seems reasonable to me. But lately, they've been reneging on their end of the deal. A week or so ago, one of my friends said, "I never noticed that mole on the back of your neck before." On closer inspection, it proved to be a tick. Imbedded. A couple of days after that when I was washing my hair, I felt a little bump on my scalp. Another tick. And just the day before yesterday, what I thought was a little clod of dirt between my toes (I'd been walking through the yard in flip-flops) was—guess what?—another bleeping tick! But that's not even the worst. Oh, no. Wednesday afternoon I saw a good-sized spider hiding between the toaster and the kitchen wall, and when I flipped on the puck lights and grabbed a rolled-up newspaper to whack it I noticed the characteristic fiddle on its back. A brown recluse. And today—oh, Lordy, today was the absolute limit. Today when I snatched down my uniform shirt from its peg on the bathroom wall, another brown recluse fell out. Yikes!
So it's on. The bugs must die. The question is, how do I kill the bad bugs without killing all the good bugs along with 'em? I don't want to kill all the butterflies and honeybees and harmless garden spiders and ladybugs just to annihilate a few ticks and poisonous spiders. Do I just constantly carry around the Weekly Shopper and some tweezers to deal with the darn things as they come along? Any ideas?
So it's on. The bugs must die. The question is, how do I kill the bad bugs without killing all the good bugs along with 'em? I don't want to kill all the butterflies and honeybees and harmless garden spiders and ladybugs just to annihilate a few ticks and poisonous spiders. Do I just constantly carry around the Weekly Shopper and some tweezers to deal with the darn things as they come along? Any ideas?
A Good Southern Boy
Yesterday afternoon (after I went to the library and blogged) I happened to be across the street at Carl's talking to him about the Old Homes Tour when he brought up that the guys I work with have not helped me on my own house at all. Carl was explaining to a friend of his that I've asked some of the guys for help and gotten no response whatsoever. Carl's theory: "It's that they're Yankees, honey. They weren't raised right. A good Southern boy helps a lady."
As I started back down the sidewalk laughing, Carl said, "I see you got over your fear and got that front gable painted." I stopped in my tracks and looked up at my house. Front gable painted yellow. Obviously two coats. Front friezeboard painted dark green, also two coats. I turned to Carl, eyes wide and jaw dropped. "It wasn't me, Carl!" He laughed. We had our suspicions as to who painted it.
Later that night those suspicions were confirmed when I saw White Trash Bob walking past the pizza place where I was having supper with my bestie. I ran down the sidewalk, found him in the library and shouted, "You painted my front gable!" (In a voice way too loud for the library, by the way.) He grinned, "Why yes, I did."
White Trash Bob is evidently a good Southern boy.
As I started back down the sidewalk laughing, Carl said, "I see you got over your fear and got that front gable painted." I stopped in my tracks and looked up at my house. Front gable painted yellow. Obviously two coats. Front friezeboard painted dark green, also two coats. I turned to Carl, eyes wide and jaw dropped. "It wasn't me, Carl!" He laughed. We had our suspicions as to who painted it.
Later that night those suspicions were confirmed when I saw White Trash Bob walking past the pizza place where I was having supper with my bestie. I ran down the sidewalk, found him in the library and shouted, "You painted my front gable!" (In a voice way too loud for the library, by the way.) He grinned, "Why yes, I did."
White Trash Bob is evidently a good Southern boy.
Still no laptop, but there's light at the end of the tunnel. My hard drive is completely corrupted and unsalvageable, meaning that I lost everything on it. But of course I backed up everything, right? Um, no. Yeah, I'm one of those people. I ordered system recovery disks and I'll have to buy a new hard drive, and then hopefully my old laptop will be good as new.
Here's what I've gotten done on the house so far (imagine photos here and there):
I cleaned the spindle trim on the side porch and painted it, which was way more tedious and time-consuming than I thought it would be, but it looks much better clean and with a new coat of paint.
I summoned up all my courage and climbed up on the front parlor bump-out to scrape and caulk the front gable with the blood pounding in my ears and my hands shaking. And when I finished that, I was too scared to climb back down. Carl and WTB had to talk me down. I vowed not to ever go up there again. I'm not sure how the front gable will get painted, but I ain't goin' up there again. No how, no way.
I finished painting the inside of the front porch screen panels and re-hung my matchstick shades.
Mare showed up unexpectedly and helped me toenail in those porch brackets that have been piled on my dining room chairs since May. And when we finished, we had a nice little conversation:
M: "I'd like you to think about us maybe getting back together."
Me: "Okay, I'll think about it." Pause. "No, I don't think it's a good idea."
M: "You didn't even think about it!"
Me: "I did too! I gave it at least 6 or 7 seconds of my careful consideration."
M: "Well, gee, that's not very much time."
Me: "Well, gee, that's all the time it took to make that decision."
I'm thinking I might have to find someone else to help me put up the picture rail in the front parlor this winter.
And then he went home and I put the second coat of paint on the last two windows on the west side, which makes the west side of the house almost completely finished. After that, I planted four big clumps of Siberian iris that my mom gave me and in the process uncovered a little scrap of old sidewalk. Then I painted the outside of the front porch screen panels and scraped the last two windows on the east side of the house. Slowly but surely, the house is getting closer to being finished.
Here's what I've gotten done on the house so far (imagine photos here and there):
I cleaned the spindle trim on the side porch and painted it, which was way more tedious and time-consuming than I thought it would be, but it looks much better clean and with a new coat of paint.
I summoned up all my courage and climbed up on the front parlor bump-out to scrape and caulk the front gable with the blood pounding in my ears and my hands shaking. And when I finished that, I was too scared to climb back down. Carl and WTB had to talk me down. I vowed not to ever go up there again. I'm not sure how the front gable will get painted, but I ain't goin' up there again. No how, no way.
I finished painting the inside of the front porch screen panels and re-hung my matchstick shades.
Mare showed up unexpectedly and helped me toenail in those porch brackets that have been piled on my dining room chairs since May. And when we finished, we had a nice little conversation:
M: "I'd like you to think about us maybe getting back together."
Me: "Okay, I'll think about it." Pause. "No, I don't think it's a good idea."
M: "You didn't even think about it!"
Me: "I did too! I gave it at least 6 or 7 seconds of my careful consideration."
M: "Well, gee, that's not very much time."
Me: "Well, gee, that's all the time it took to make that decision."
I'm thinking I might have to find someone else to help me put up the picture rail in the front parlor this winter.
And then he went home and I put the second coat of paint on the last two windows on the west side, which makes the west side of the house almost completely finished. After that, I planted four big clumps of Siberian iris that my mom gave me and in the process uncovered a little scrap of old sidewalk. Then I painted the outside of the front porch screen panels and scraped the last two windows on the east side of the house. Slowly but surely, the house is getting closer to being finished.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)