If you have access to the Internet today (and, if you're reading this, you must have SOME kind of access), you're likely aware that today is known as "Cyber Monday". It's my understanding that Black Friday is when the really organized, super-saver, highly-motivated (and more than a little bit crazy) types get most, if not all, of their holiday shopping completed. Cyber Monday was mostly created by accident, when retailers realized that a large percentage of the gift-buying population actively avoided Black Friday and instead focused their gift-buying over the Internet, and tended to wait until they'd returned to work post-Thanksgiving.
While Lloyd, Janet, Frank and Beth were discussing their various Thursday feasts and sharing stories about their crazy cousins around the water cooler for an hour or so, Craig and Ellen would jump online and get five or six names crossed off their collective gift-buying lists. Now granted, retailers are also responsible for continuing the trend, providing price reductions and free shipping deals that are good for today only. If you've had an email address for more than two years, you've likely received more than a few "don't miss these deals" and "price slashing galore" notes from retailers you've shopped from ... or from partners of retailers you've shopped from.
This may be the first year that I'll actually create ... and stick to ... a physical gift list. Partially driven from an economic standpoint and partially from a "do NOT forget to send a gift to this person", it means that I'll likely feel that I've let some folks down in the gift category, since I tend to go overboard. This is not my fault. I blame my parents.
As adults, my sister and I would beg my parents to stick to a budget or a "just this number of packages" parameter and each year, the haul under the tree would get more and more absurd. They got around the "number of packages" suggestion by wrapping multiple items in a larger box. I once received seven separate items, each wrapped, because my father had them placed in a box that he'd had some Model A tires in. (Yeah, I tried to keep a smile on my face when I read the side of the box ... "wow dad - dunno what to say, yanno? I've never really received tires for a vehicle I don't own as a gift before.") My mother got around the budget suggestion by having the cats and dogs go shopping. ("I can't help it if Ginger felt she had to give you this coat from Nordstroms, hunny. And Puff saw these slippers and just couldn't stop herself.")
And I'm not joking at all about that "pets giving gifts" thing, either. It doesn't even seem strange to me anymore - to make sure that I buy a stocking for each canine member of the extended family. I even address cards that way ... in fact, the Halloween card that was sent to my parents home was addressed exclusively to Hershel, the "youngest member" of their family, and commonly referred to as "my" dog. (This is true because while I was in the process of moving, I lived with my folks and Hershel was a terrific companion for me and my constant shadow. My father believed I was trying to turn his dog against him but I just have a soft spot for "Hershey". After all, he came home on his first trip while sleeping in my lap and I even named him - sparing him the indignity of being called "Cocoa". I think he still appreciates it.)
But this year, my gift giving will be specific to direct family and a few others. I'll try to use retailers who will ship items for me, and most will do so at no cost, especially on Cyber Monday. It means that I'll have to spend extra time to think about the gifts I give, and allow time for me to write more than just "happy holidays" on cards that I send. It's eye-opening to me to realize that being on a budget means I may put more thought into what I do for the holidays.
I just got an email from an online pet store with a deal on dog toys. I wonder if they'll ship extra-large bones ...
Monday, November 30, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
*urp*
There was, of course, the bird. In fact, there was a bird and a half. There also was, naturally, cranberry sauce.
(Side note - while the awesome boyfriend and I tried several different "reform the can shape" ideas, we settled on the familiar "rounds" that were cut and put on platters ... ala a Tomato Salad. It was largely ignored because ... well ... there was a LOT to choose from so just keep reading.)
There was stuffing. There was ("was" or "were"? .... hmmmm) mashed potatoes.
(Another side note - I can actually picture the awesome boyfriend reading this while muttering "it wasn't just 'stuffing' - it was 'sausage, mushroom, bacon, cornbread stuffing with cranberries, apples, and toasted pecans'." I hope he'll forgive me for the generalizations in the names of the dishes.)
There was salad. There were cornbread rolls. There was soup. There was a corn casserole. There was a green bean casserole. There was sauerkraut and sausage. There were stewed tomatoes. There were sweet potatoes. There was gravy. There was cheesecake. There were apple pies.
(Plural. As in "more than one".)
There were ice creams.
(Plural. As in "more than one" and "made from scratch".)
There was chocolate trifle and there was pumpkin pie.
(There was not a pecan pie - but perhaps we'll talk about that another day.)
There was family. Multiple generations and in-laws and cousins and parents and each individual person at that table brought more to the feast by just sitting down at the table. There were photos shared and stories retold. There was laughter and thanks was given for just having the opportunity to be be seated there.
And to be included at that table? To be allowed to assist in making that memory occur? I am really and truly blessed.
I am thankful ... and I give thanks.
(Side note - while the awesome boyfriend and I tried several different "reform the can shape" ideas, we settled on the familiar "rounds" that were cut and put on platters ... ala a Tomato Salad. It was largely ignored because ... well ... there was a LOT to choose from so just keep reading.)
There was stuffing. There was ("was" or "were"? .... hmmmm) mashed potatoes.
(Another side note - I can actually picture the awesome boyfriend reading this while muttering "it wasn't just 'stuffing' - it was 'sausage, mushroom, bacon, cornbread stuffing with cranberries, apples, and toasted pecans'." I hope he'll forgive me for the generalizations in the names of the dishes.)
There was salad. There were cornbread rolls. There was soup. There was a corn casserole. There was a green bean casserole. There was sauerkraut and sausage. There were stewed tomatoes. There were sweet potatoes. There was gravy. There was cheesecake. There were apple pies.
(Plural. As in "more than one".)
There were ice creams.
(Plural. As in "more than one" and "made from scratch".)
There was chocolate trifle and there was pumpkin pie.
(There was not a pecan pie - but perhaps we'll talk about that another day.)
There was family. Multiple generations and in-laws and cousins and parents and each individual person at that table brought more to the feast by just sitting down at the table. There were photos shared and stories retold. There was laughter and thanks was given for just having the opportunity to be be seated there.
And to be included at that table? To be allowed to assist in making that memory occur? I am really and truly blessed.
I am thankful ... and I give thanks.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
It's November 19th - Happy "Appreciate Your Neighbor" Day
Most times, I don't think twice about what day/date is on my calendar. For starters, I don't have a paper calendar on my wall - just an electronic one that I glance at about once a week. Secondarily, I have all the important dates (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.) pretty much memorized and November is light on those (just 2 birthdays of note) so I'm not too concerned about the date.
But holidays are different. Holidays are dictated by the calendar (and backed up by the merchants) so one can't miss a holiday. Oh sure - Arbor day maybe, but none of the big holidays - where there's a chance for a store to make a buck, I mean. However, there are four holidays that are dictated by the calendar that kinda ... bother me.
One occurs in February and is all about Love (yes, capital "L"). Another happens in November and is all about Gratitude (uh huh - capital "G"). And then we have May and June to show our appreciation for the two humans who brought us into this world. Apparently a portion of the population feels the need to identify a specific date to express themselves. And that's not to say that they don't express themselves on other dates, too but ... flowers, cards, big meals, special evenings out, cleaning out the garage, brunch ... "yep, the calendar says this is the day so here - have some candy and flowers, Mom."
It's perhaps more than a little naive of me to make this suggestion but I'm willing to be more than a little naive. What if one purchased a bunch of Thanksgiving-themed cards this week and sent them to their friends, families, neighbors in ... March or July? What if, when February rolls around, one stocked up on Valentine's Day cards and gave them to their loved one throughout the year? "Hey Sweetheart - I really appreciated you raking the leaves in the yard while I watched the first football game of the year, and I wrote how I feel about you in this card. I hope you'll be my Valentine."
For what it's worth, I found some a Mother's Day card a few years ago that just cracked me up. I purchased 8 of them - 8 of the same exact card - and I've given them to my Mom at random times. I'm gonna go slap a stamp on another one and send it off ... just because I'm thinking of her.
Because ... we shouldn't need a calendar to tell us when to think of the important people in our lives, or when to be thankful for them, either.
But holidays are different. Holidays are dictated by the calendar (and backed up by the merchants) so one can't miss a holiday. Oh sure - Arbor day maybe, but none of the big holidays - where there's a chance for a store to make a buck, I mean. However, there are four holidays that are dictated by the calendar that kinda ... bother me.
One occurs in February and is all about Love (yes, capital "L"). Another happens in November and is all about Gratitude (uh huh - capital "G"). And then we have May and June to show our appreciation for the two humans who brought us into this world. Apparently a portion of the population feels the need to identify a specific date to express themselves. And that's not to say that they don't express themselves on other dates, too but ... flowers, cards, big meals, special evenings out, cleaning out the garage, brunch ... "yep, the calendar says this is the day so here - have some candy and flowers, Mom."
It's perhaps more than a little naive of me to make this suggestion but I'm willing to be more than a little naive. What if one purchased a bunch of Thanksgiving-themed cards this week and sent them to their friends, families, neighbors in ... March or July? What if, when February rolls around, one stocked up on Valentine's Day cards and gave them to their loved one throughout the year? "Hey Sweetheart - I really appreciated you raking the leaves in the yard while I watched the first football game of the year, and I wrote how I feel about you in this card. I hope you'll be my Valentine."
For what it's worth, I found some a Mother's Day card a few years ago that just cracked me up. I purchased 8 of them - 8 of the same exact card - and I've given them to my Mom at random times. I'm gonna go slap a stamp on another one and send it off ... just because I'm thinking of her.
Because ... we shouldn't need a calendar to tell us when to think of the important people in our lives, or when to be thankful for them, either.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A Public Response
to The U.S Preventive Services Task Force and their recent announcement/findings regarding breast self-exams and mammograms not being necessary until the age of 50 (and then being scheduled every other year).
Two words: Bite. Me.
Since I realize that statistics and results and numbers can be mis-quoted or skewed to support whatever result an individual or group is behind, I won't argue anything like that here (*ahem morethan 192,000 womenwillbediagnosedwithbreastcancerbeforethisyearcomestoaclose*) but instead would like to engage in what is known as "Push Button Morality" with a classic moral dilemma posed originally by Victor Grassian, author of "Moral Reasoning".
It goes something like this ...
You're standing at a railroad switch which starts at Position A.
There is a train barreling towards 20 people on a track.
If you choose, you can throw the switch to B.
This will direct the train down a track where there are 5 people.
With no time to decide, will you save 20 lives by sacrificing 5?
(and while you're rationalizing that in your brain, Mr. Grassian further adds ...)
Realizing that, by doing so, you - and you alone - will have aggressively caused the death of 5 individuals.
Two words: Bite. Me.
Since I realize that statistics and results and numbers can be mis-quoted or skewed to support whatever result an individual or group is behind, I won't argue anything like that here (*ahem morethan 192,000 womenwillbediagnosedwithbreastcancerbeforethisyearcomestoaclose*) but instead would like to engage in what is known as "Push Button Morality" with a classic moral dilemma posed originally by Victor Grassian, author of "Moral Reasoning".
It goes something like this ...
You're standing at a railroad switch which starts at Position A.
There is a train barreling towards 20 people on a track.
If you choose, you can throw the switch to B.
This will direct the train down a track where there are 5 people.
With no time to decide, will you save 20 lives by sacrificing 5?
(and while you're rationalizing that in your brain, Mr. Grassian further adds ...)
Realizing that, by doing so, you - and you alone - will have aggressively caused the death of 5 individuals.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The Longest Yard
I've already written about my move earlier this Fall, and I've been writing about the various little home updates I've been doing since then. What I haven't written about is my new surroundings, and I'll try to do that today.
I live on a corner lot, with no neighbor across the street, a nice, straight driveway (perfect for Jake), and a large, easily-to-scale tree in the back yard. (I had to climb it earlier last month to free an old length of rope that had been forgotten. Well - in fairness - I didn't HAVE to climb it, as the rope wasn't harming anything but I wanted to climb it. It's just one of those trees that says "climb me" so ... yeah ... I did.)
To the right of my driveway is the home of my nearest next door neighbor, who is also my landlord (in name only). She's a very sweet woman who, prior to my moving in, had met me one time, but we've had several conversations since my relocation. She is terribly kind, always offering to lend a hand if I have any problems or questions, even though she has more than enough on her plate already.
To the right of her home is the home of my next next door neighbors. It is because of the residents of this home that I was able to move into MY home. (They essentially "vouched" for me.) I've known two of the members of this family for about 7 months. I'm in love with the third member of the family, and have referred to him here in the past as "the awesome boyfriend".
I do not live with the awesome boyfriend for various reasons, including my desire to establish myself in my own space. We have a quasi-routine which allows for him to basically have two homes and he can be in either one, at his choice ... whichever provides the least amount of stress for all concerned. I do my utmost to respect his decisions on where he spends his free time (which is stretched as it is) and I try very hard to not show disappointment if it makes more sense for him to be elsewhere - the guilt/pressure would be unnecessary and unfair. I do not always succeed not showing that disappointment, but I DO try.
I failed last night. Last night, I looked out my kitchen window and I sighed. He was right there. Right there. And even though the distance between us was no longer than before, even though one could hold their breath and walk from one home to the other, even though I'd been in his arms just a few hours earlier ...
... it really just was the longest yard.
********
(I realize that writing about these pangs of longing may, in fact, feel like guilt/pressure to the awesome boyfriend. However, my intent here - at this space - is to express my feelings, experiences, ideas, and observations.)
I live on a corner lot, with no neighbor across the street, a nice, straight driveway (perfect for Jake), and a large, easily-to-scale tree in the back yard. (I had to climb it earlier last month to free an old length of rope that had been forgotten. Well - in fairness - I didn't HAVE to climb it, as the rope wasn't harming anything but I wanted to climb it. It's just one of those trees that says "climb me" so ... yeah ... I did.)
To the right of my driveway is the home of my nearest next door neighbor, who is also my landlord (in name only). She's a very sweet woman who, prior to my moving in, had met me one time, but we've had several conversations since my relocation. She is terribly kind, always offering to lend a hand if I have any problems or questions, even though she has more than enough on her plate already.
To the right of her home is the home of my next next door neighbors. It is because of the residents of this home that I was able to move into MY home. (They essentially "vouched" for me.) I've known two of the members of this family for about 7 months. I'm in love with the third member of the family, and have referred to him here in the past as "the awesome boyfriend".
I do not live with the awesome boyfriend for various reasons, including my desire to establish myself in my own space. We have a quasi-routine which allows for him to basically have two homes and he can be in either one, at his choice ... whichever provides the least amount of stress for all concerned. I do my utmost to respect his decisions on where he spends his free time (which is stretched as it is) and I try very hard to not show disappointment if it makes more sense for him to be elsewhere - the guilt/pressure would be unnecessary and unfair. I do not always succeed not showing that disappointment, but I DO try.
I failed last night. Last night, I looked out my kitchen window and I sighed. He was right there. Right there. And even though the distance between us was no longer than before, even though one could hold their breath and walk from one home to the other, even though I'd been in his arms just a few hours earlier ...
... it really just was the longest yard.
********
(I realize that writing about these pangs of longing may, in fact, feel like guilt/pressure to the awesome boyfriend. However, my intent here - at this space - is to express my feelings, experiences, ideas, and observations.)
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Scottish Play
Today is Friday. Today is the 13th. I knew both of these facts. I knew it was Friday, and even wished the cashier "happy Friday" when she took my coffee order. And I knew it was the 13th, because I paid a few bills so I had to write the date on the check and in my checkbook. So yes, I knew that today was the 13th and that it was a Friday.
But I didn't realize today was Friday the 13th until another customer came in to talk about the nasty streak of luck they'd experienced on their way to the coffee shop ... and another customer said "well, it is Friday the 13th."
Even though I am very Irish, I don't subscribe most of the superstitions I heard while growing up. (Full disclosure: I DID kiss the Blarney Stone when I was in Ireland.) I believe that breaking a mirror is no less dangerous than breaking a dish or glass. I do knock wood upon occasion, but I believe that walking under a ladder is just as dumb as walking underneath scaffolding. I believe that any cat that crosses my path is looking for treats or a warm lap. I believe that walking on a sidewalk with cracks should be done carefully because it's just one more thing for me to trip over. And I believe that spilling salt means you've probably under-seasoned your dish, so throwing MORE away makes no sense at all.
So yes, today is Friday the 13th, but I have things to do today. A quick look outside tells me that an umbrella will be necessary during my errand run. (*ahem* I will be closing the umbrella before I'm indoors.)
But I didn't realize today was Friday the 13th until another customer came in to talk about the nasty streak of luck they'd experienced on their way to the coffee shop ... and another customer said "well, it is Friday the 13th."
Even though I am very Irish, I don't subscribe most of the superstitions I heard while growing up. (Full disclosure: I DID kiss the Blarney Stone when I was in Ireland.) I believe that breaking a mirror is no less dangerous than breaking a dish or glass. I do knock wood upon occasion, but I believe that walking under a ladder is just as dumb as walking underneath scaffolding. I believe that any cat that crosses my path is looking for treats or a warm lap. I believe that walking on a sidewalk with cracks should be done carefully because it's just one more thing for me to trip over. And I believe that spilling salt means you've probably under-seasoned your dish, so throwing MORE away makes no sense at all.
So yes, today is Friday the 13th, but I have things to do today. A quick look outside tells me that an umbrella will be necessary during my errand run. (*ahem* I will be closing the umbrella before I'm indoors.)
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Time Flies Like An Arrow ...
... fruit flies like a banana.
- Groucho Marx
Politicians are judged by their first 100 days in office. (Right, wrong, or otherwise.) Using that as my measuring guide, here's a list - probably incomplete - of what I've accomplished in under 50 days in my new home:
Stripped the outward door locks to allow for the porch door to operate better.
Stripped the inner door locks to allow for the inner door to operate better.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new bed and frame.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new sofa. (It's VERY comfortable.)
Shopped for, purchased, took delivery of, and put together a new kitchen table and chairs.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new kitchen pantry piece.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a kitchen rolling drop-leaf cabinet.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of two new side bedroom tables.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new 5-drawer dresser for the bedroom.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a corner TV stand for the bedroom.
Replaced the outlet plates throughout the house.
Replaced the light switch plates throughout the house.
Arranged for the replumbing of the bathroom fixtures and the kitchen (which, sadly, needs to be revisited because the bathtub still "gurgles".)
Shopped for, purchased, took delivery of, and put together three (wickedly heavy) bookcases.
Began to install new doorknobs in the interior of my home. (Yes, I'm still on "began". I've run into another snag - the striker plate screws are too close together for the original door so I need to figure out an extender idea.)
******************
This list is for my next "geez, I haven't done a damn thing since I've been here" day. Those days tend to be when my "what I need to still do" list seems to grow and the "what I've done" list seems to shrink.
Now I'm gonna go get a hot chocolate, sit on my new sofa, and read for a bit. Because, as Groucho also said, "outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."
- Groucho Marx
Politicians are judged by their first 100 days in office. (Right, wrong, or otherwise.) Using that as my measuring guide, here's a list - probably incomplete - of what I've accomplished in under 50 days in my new home:
Stripped the outward door locks to allow for the porch door to operate better.
Stripped the inner door locks to allow for the inner door to operate better.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new bed and frame.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new sofa. (It's VERY comfortable.)
Shopped for, purchased, took delivery of, and put together a new kitchen table and chairs.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new kitchen pantry piece.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a kitchen rolling drop-leaf cabinet.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of two new side bedroom tables.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new 5-drawer dresser for the bedroom.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a corner TV stand for the bedroom.
Replaced the outlet plates throughout the house.
Replaced the light switch plates throughout the house.
Arranged for the replumbing of the bathroom fixtures and the kitchen (which, sadly, needs to be revisited because the bathtub still "gurgles".)
Shopped for, purchased, took delivery of, and put together three (wickedly heavy) bookcases.
Began to install new doorknobs in the interior of my home. (Yes, I'm still on "began". I've run into another snag - the striker plate screws are too close together for the original door so I need to figure out an extender idea.)
******************
This list is for my next "geez, I haven't done a damn thing since I've been here" day. Those days tend to be when my "what I need to still do" list seems to grow and the "what I've done" list seems to shrink.
Now I'm gonna go get a hot chocolate, sit on my new sofa, and read for a bit. Because, as Groucho also said, "outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."
Friday, November 6, 2009
If The Door Doesn't Work, Use A Window
So after my morning routine yesterday, I stopped by a home improvement store (which I'll call "Highs") for a few things. This Highs is pretty much next to my coffee shop and I've been in it a lot over the past month. I know this is true because even 'tho it is a LARGE warehouse space, I roam around like a construction worker on a mission.
I use Highs as a dual-purpose shopping exercise. I typically buy what I came in for, and then I see a few other ideas and I put them in the card and then I get home and realize "yeah, I don't have that kind of wiring" or "whoops - that's too wide for what I need". But not yesterday.
Yesterday I strolled in, got my electrical outlet and light switch plates in the brushed bronze finish ... and the brushed silver, to see which would look better. The ONLY unplanned thing was a kit to grow some paper whites. (We'll see how that goes. I hope to keep my black thumb away from it.) I drove home and started to work. I replaced the kitchen light switch plate (the brushed silver seems to go better with my copper ware) and replaced three plates in the living room.
Buoyed by this success (which, I'll admit, was just knowing how to use a screwdriver), I decided to go to the other nearby home improvement store ... which I'll call "House Terminal" ... with the goal of replacing the rest of the various electrical plates in the house as well as the interior doorknobs. To avoid feeling overwhelmed, I wrote out how many of what I'd need (and noted which rooms they were intended for, in case their supply did not match my needs).
I'm not as familiar with the layout of House Terminal but it didn't take long for me to find the right aisle. After finding the electrical and light switch plates (and then replacing them with a less "designer style" version I'd found further down the aisle), I turned my attention to the doorknobs.
I was in the doors area and feeling somewhat dismayed by the lack of options. I suppose my disappointment was all over my face because a House Terminal employee approached me and said "we have a lot of other options down this aisle ... follow me".
Talk about overwhelmed! It was so much more than just "brushed bronze" ... it was "hallway/closet", "bathroom", "keyed", "smart keyed", "exterior", "dummy knob covers", "lever-style". The selection went for what seemed to be *miles*. It took me about 25 minutes to match the new plates with the right style with the right finish. (Did you know that "aged bronze" is different from "aged brushed bronze" and both are different from "brushed, tumbled aged bronze"? I'm not completely joking, either.) In any event, after much consideration, my new projects were bagged and I was on my way home once again.
{I'll take a moment to interrupt myself here. I really enjoy this kind of work - home improvement, I mean. I'm still very much a klutz, so I'm hesitant to grab a power tool (and still don't own one), but doing work on a home ... mine or otherwise ... to make it more comfortable, safer, more efficient really makes me happy. With so many tasks/jobs, one never gets to see a result. This isn't the case with home projects and, if they're done correctly, the level of pride that comes along is also satisfying. Not the kind of pride that brings about bragging ... but the kind that makes one realize they've made a difference. And, while I'm light-years away from considering myself to be handy around a home, I know that I've made a different in many zip codes in the South and look forward to making a difference in my new home, too.}
I took the first brushed silver light switch plate into the bathroom and removed the old surround. I looked at the old plate ... and then looked at the new one I'd just purchased. Too skinny. The older plate was far wider - perhaps as much as an inch on either side. "Alright", I shrugged. "Strike one. You'll just use it elsewhere and find a replacement when you're at Highs next time."
I then took my newly purchased doorbell switch and headed to the side entryway. I unscrewed the upper and lower screws to see that the switch is hard-wired directly into the bell. "Bummer ... strike two", I thought. (I don't play with electricity ... ever.)
Down but not out, I went to the bathroom and, after using a blade, several screwdrivers and some carefully used force, I managed to remove the doorknob and striking plate. I started to install the replacement knob and immediately realized that adjustments would be needed. After hand-chiseling some of the door along the lever, I turned to the new striking plate. It also needed adjustment but, after about an hour, I managed to get both pieces to fit nicely. I was at "step 3" on the "how to easily and safely install the handles without power tools" when I noticed the discrepancy between the dowel-sized opening that existed in the door and the fist-sized opening the new knob requires. Damn. Strike three.
The various pieces of what I'd removed and what I'd purchased went into plastic bags and I made myself a losers mug of hot chocolate. I felt ... well ... I guess I felt like a fraud. Here I'd spent hundreds of hours doing home repair work just a few years ago and now I couldn't even install a simple door knob. I flipped open an old copy of a magazine that had interviewed one of the families whose home I'd worked on. There it was standing behind them ... the proof ... steps, siding, roofing, windows, paint, doors ... I'd seen this stuff being done before. Heck, I'd DONE some of this stuff before. And now ... the tears welled and a small pity party began with me as the guest of dishonor.
It was about thirty minutes later when my guy visited. I asked him to hold me while I apologized for my failure at these simple tasks. I promised him that I really *had* done repair work and I was successful at it, even. I don't know if I was trying to convince him or convince myself. Without saying why, he took me by the arm, walked me outside, and made me look up. At the moon, the stars, the sky, the trees. Perspective ... he gave me a window with a view of perspective. If the door knob in the bathroom would take longer to replace, who cared? If the light switch plate didn't match the power outlet plate, so what?
^^ All that was yesterday.
I walked out to my car today to find a Craftsman drill case sitting by my door. It's a loan from my guy, who clearly didn't lose faith in me, even when I had.
It's 11:51am and I'm going to go visit Highs in a few minutes to return the doorbell that won't work and the light switch cover that is too skinny. Then I'm going to go visit House Terminal with the old door knob and photos of the door I'm working with so that someone there can tell me what tools I need to make it work.
And, while I'm at Highs, I hope to find a brushed silver replacement for the push-plate that I removed from the door that leads down the stairs ...
I use Highs as a dual-purpose shopping exercise. I typically buy what I came in for, and then I see a few other ideas and I put them in the card and then I get home and realize "yeah, I don't have that kind of wiring" or "whoops - that's too wide for what I need". But not yesterday.
Yesterday I strolled in, got my electrical outlet and light switch plates in the brushed bronze finish ... and the brushed silver, to see which would look better. The ONLY unplanned thing was a kit to grow some paper whites. (We'll see how that goes. I hope to keep my black thumb away from it.) I drove home and started to work. I replaced the kitchen light switch plate (the brushed silver seems to go better with my copper ware) and replaced three plates in the living room.
Buoyed by this success (which, I'll admit, was just knowing how to use a screwdriver), I decided to go to the other nearby home improvement store ... which I'll call "House Terminal" ... with the goal of replacing the rest of the various electrical plates in the house as well as the interior doorknobs. To avoid feeling overwhelmed, I wrote out how many of what I'd need (and noted which rooms they were intended for, in case their supply did not match my needs).
I'm not as familiar with the layout of House Terminal but it didn't take long for me to find the right aisle. After finding the electrical and light switch plates (and then replacing them with a less "designer style" version I'd found further down the aisle), I turned my attention to the doorknobs.
I was in the doors area and feeling somewhat dismayed by the lack of options. I suppose my disappointment was all over my face because a House Terminal employee approached me and said "we have a lot of other options down this aisle ... follow me".
Talk about overwhelmed! It was so much more than just "brushed bronze" ... it was "hallway/closet", "bathroom", "keyed", "smart keyed", "exterior", "dummy knob covers", "lever-style". The selection went for what seemed to be *miles*. It took me about 25 minutes to match the new plates with the right style with the right finish. (Did you know that "aged bronze" is different from "aged brushed bronze" and both are different from "brushed, tumbled aged bronze"? I'm not completely joking, either.) In any event, after much consideration, my new projects were bagged and I was on my way home once again.
{I'll take a moment to interrupt myself here. I really enjoy this kind of work - home improvement, I mean. I'm still very much a klutz, so I'm hesitant to grab a power tool (and still don't own one), but doing work on a home ... mine or otherwise ... to make it more comfortable, safer, more efficient really makes me happy. With so many tasks/jobs, one never gets to see a result. This isn't the case with home projects and, if they're done correctly, the level of pride that comes along is also satisfying. Not the kind of pride that brings about bragging ... but the kind that makes one realize they've made a difference. And, while I'm light-years away from considering myself to be handy around a home, I know that I've made a different in many zip codes in the South and look forward to making a difference in my new home, too.}
I took the first brushed silver light switch plate into the bathroom and removed the old surround. I looked at the old plate ... and then looked at the new one I'd just purchased. Too skinny. The older plate was far wider - perhaps as much as an inch on either side. "Alright", I shrugged. "Strike one. You'll just use it elsewhere and find a replacement when you're at Highs next time."
I then took my newly purchased doorbell switch and headed to the side entryway. I unscrewed the upper and lower screws to see that the switch is hard-wired directly into the bell. "Bummer ... strike two", I thought. (I don't play with electricity ... ever.)
Down but not out, I went to the bathroom and, after using a blade, several screwdrivers and some carefully used force, I managed to remove the doorknob and striking plate. I started to install the replacement knob and immediately realized that adjustments would be needed. After hand-chiseling some of the door along the lever, I turned to the new striking plate. It also needed adjustment but, after about an hour, I managed to get both pieces to fit nicely. I was at "step 3" on the "how to easily and safely install the handles without power tools" when I noticed the discrepancy between the dowel-sized opening that existed in the door and the fist-sized opening the new knob requires. Damn. Strike three.
The various pieces of what I'd removed and what I'd purchased went into plastic bags and I made myself a losers mug of hot chocolate. I felt ... well ... I guess I felt like a fraud. Here I'd spent hundreds of hours doing home repair work just a few years ago and now I couldn't even install a simple door knob. I flipped open an old copy of a magazine that had interviewed one of the families whose home I'd worked on. There it was standing behind them ... the proof ... steps, siding, roofing, windows, paint, doors ... I'd seen this stuff being done before. Heck, I'd DONE some of this stuff before. And now ... the tears welled and a small pity party began with me as the guest of dishonor.
It was about thirty minutes later when my guy visited. I asked him to hold me while I apologized for my failure at these simple tasks. I promised him that I really *had* done repair work and I was successful at it, even. I don't know if I was trying to convince him or convince myself. Without saying why, he took me by the arm, walked me outside, and made me look up. At the moon, the stars, the sky, the trees. Perspective ... he gave me a window with a view of perspective. If the door knob in the bathroom would take longer to replace, who cared? If the light switch plate didn't match the power outlet plate, so what?
^^ All that was yesterday.
I walked out to my car today to find a Craftsman drill case sitting by my door. It's a loan from my guy, who clearly didn't lose faith in me, even when I had.
It's 11:51am and I'm going to go visit Highs in a few minutes to return the doorbell that won't work and the light switch cover that is too skinny. Then I'm going to go visit House Terminal with the old door knob and photos of the door I'm working with so that someone there can tell me what tools I need to make it work.
And, while I'm at Highs, I hope to find a brushed silver replacement for the push-plate that I removed from the door that leads down the stairs ...
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Table For Two
I never realized that it could be this easy.
We gather to share a meal - experiences and battle-scars are our dishes to offer. We're either dining with someone who wants - and can accept - an honest reaction ("this is too bitter for my tastes", "this could use more spice but it's good", "I've tried this and I'm not a fan") or we're dining with someone who just needed a space to sit down, who doesn't want to pass around their courses, or who isn't interested in tasting what you've brought to the table. It can be hard to not take that response personally, however it just leaves more for the right dining partner to enjoy.
It's more than being open to try new flavors. It's more than wanting to share your meal in the first place. It's honestly all about finding the right person to sit across from at the table, no matter the course being served.
We gather to share a meal - experiences and battle-scars are our dishes to offer. We're either dining with someone who wants - and can accept - an honest reaction ("this is too bitter for my tastes", "this could use more spice but it's good", "I've tried this and I'm not a fan") or we're dining with someone who just needed a space to sit down, who doesn't want to pass around their courses, or who isn't interested in tasting what you've brought to the table. It can be hard to not take that response personally, however it just leaves more for the right dining partner to enjoy.
It's more than being open to try new flavors. It's more than wanting to share your meal in the first place. It's honestly all about finding the right person to sit across from at the table, no matter the course being served.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
So fa, so good
Well it was successful.
It may have not been a place I found on my own and the item itself wasn't what I'd originally selected as "hmmmm waddya think of this?", but we found something we can live with AND we are still talking to each other so I'm gonna count it as a win.
Granted, I still haven't seem to found my style when it comes to giving a room a "look" ... but that'll either happen in time or it won't - and I can live with that.
It may have not been a place I found on my own and the item itself wasn't what I'd originally selected as "hmmmm waddya think of this?", but we found something we can live with AND we are still talking to each other so I'm gonna count it as a win.
Granted, I still haven't seem to found my style when it comes to giving a room a "look" ... but that'll either happen in time or it won't - and I can live with that.
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