January 28, 2013
Today is the two-hundredth anniversary of the publication of Pride and Predjudice. I’m celebrating the occasion at the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood. Come on over. I’m talking about Last Chance Book Club too.
January 20, 2013
Some women are golf widows. I am not one of them. If anything, my husband is a golf widower. Not that he would notice.
No, the DH is one of those men who isn’t happy unless he’s got a project going — or one or two. For instance, he’s been “working on” a 1982 Fiat Spider sports car for at least four years. It sits in our driveway, shrouded. The car parts — including a transmission, engine, and dashboard, clutter up my closets and basement. In fact the car’s tranny sat in my laundry area right off the kitchen for a good nine months. It got so I didn’t even see it, which is sort of pathetic.
The DH has other, smaller projects that run the gamut from tying flies,to building model airplanes. And since he makes big messes with his project, I very unselfishly gave him my daughter’s bedroom when she went off to college. (And unlike some of my friends the daughter is fiercely independent and never came back home to live.) So the good news is that I can, mostly, shut the door on his messes.
But the downside is that I got the much smaller room for my writing space. And this room has no space or storage for my projects, which usually involve yarn and fabric. So when the sewing bug hits, I take over the dining room. And because I’m just a tiny bit OCD, I will make sure that I finish my project quickly and clean up the mess. I don’t ever have the luxury of closing the door on a project in progress.
I’m not complaining, the DH is very conscientious about his honey-do list. And, the 1982 Fiat notwithstanding, he’s wonderful about finishing the DIY home-improvement projects he starts. He’s built me all kinds of things. Decks, a laundry area, a new kitchen. He’s handy. He looks cute with a tool belt too.
Which brings me to the basement.
The basement -- after demo
Ok, I will admit that I used my feminine whiles. (Because, really, whining and nagging do not work with this man and I’m not really a whiny nagging sort of person.) I simply commented that my yarn stash was taking over the house. (And I left baskets and knitting all over the place.) I stared a sewing project and let it sit for while in the dining room for a few days while apologizing profusely for the mess.
And, hooray, he got the message.
Right after Christmas, while I was recovering from bronchitis, he got a bug up his butt and started cleaning up his crap from down in the basement junk room. He got his tools and his car pieces and his fishing stuff all organized and found places for all that crap up in the shed. And then — because I was watching HGTV non-stop during my recovery, while simultaneously calling his attention to every basement renovation — he asked if I would like a sewing room for my birthday. I showed my appreciation and then went in to a coughing fit.
So now I have concrete dust everywhere, because when my honey undertakes a project like this he’s like the guys on the DIY channel. He does it right. He is, after all, an engineer. One reason the basement went so long without any attention, is that one corner of it has a water problem — but only when we have a hurricane or tropical storm. Unfortunately those things are happening more often.
So before he builds anything he has to extend the sump pump drain. This project requires breaking up the concrete floor to create a trench. Yesterday he was jack-hammering down there. (You just imagine how little writing I got done with all that noise.) He is down there shoveling dirt, as I write this morning.
The trench in my basement after the jack-hammering.
Once this project is done, he’s got to frame out the walls, hang sheet rock, lay a cork floor, paint, and install storage units. He says he’ll be finished by the first week of March. We’ll see. But for now we’re under construction.
And, I’m living with his mess, of course. But, what else is new?
You would think that he'd have the sense to take up the throw rug before tracking dust on it. But no...
So is your honey a project guy? Or are you a golf widow?
I Stink at New Year’s Resolutions
January 2, 2013
I don’t know about you, but New Year’s resolutions demoralize me. I have never carried through on any resolution I’ve ever made on January 1. And I’ve made so many – losing weight being the perennial favorite. But I have others, like cleaning and organizing the closets, getting rid of the clutter, not eating out so much. You know the drill. I’m not terribly original with my resolutions.
It’s kind of funny how we approach the new year, determine to make ourselves “better” in some way. It’s like we all decide to engage in a month of early Lent. And, let’s face it, how many people do you know who have actually carried out a New Year’s resolution.
I don’t know one person. Although I do know that they all seem to show up at my gym every January, crowding the showers and the makeup mirrors. But the crowd at the gym is back to the morning regulars by February.
I’m determined not to make a resolution this year. Or, better yet, make a resolution that would be easy to keep, like drinking a glass of red wine every day – for heart health. Or baking cookies once a week. Or spending more time playing my guitar and less time stressing about work. You know, resolutions that aren’t intended to make me a “better” person, but which might make life a little more enjoyable. Maybe if our resolutions were more fun, we wouldn’t give up on them so easily.
How about you? Are you trying to make yourself better this year? Or have you joined those of us whose only resolution this year is to swear off making resolutions?
