High on Life

Well, OK, so I'm really high on B.I.N. shellac-based primer. But I'll take what I can get. Actually, we are going to be escaping the overly stench-a-cious place that is our home by checking out a friend of a friend who is performing with his fellow jazz-band members at the local steakhouse/bar. It sounds great, but at this point, anything that gets me out of this overly heated house that smells like about a million Dry-Erase markers sounds good.

The label on the paint can was extremely helpful, by the way. Something to the effect of "Use in a well-ventilated space with as many windows open as possible. The fumes should be no worse than if you were painting outside." Well, when it's 14 degrees outside and dropping fast, I can tell you that the windows and doors did not stay open long. However, we did open them for short bursts. Just to try to clear our vision! Oy!

But the floors are going to look so much better than the manky, munky, ucky cat-pee-stained carpet that was there. Even if we didn't sand it all down properly and you can see a faint outline of Mr. J's sneaker in one spot. I'll take that any day.

I have a whole list of fascinating, interesting topics for this blog o' mine. But this is all I have time for today. And it's also about all the few remaining brain cells in my skull can handle. Here's some pictures worth a thousand words (or maybe about 100) to fill in the blanks.

Before


During


Camera battery is dead, so no photos of the paint fumed floors.

P.S. I realize that the during photo is a thousand times worse than the before photo, but photos just do not capture the remaining 900 words, which would all describe the horrible stench of cat piss that those two layers of carpet and one stubborn layer of linoleum contained.
P.P.S I just reread this, and wow is this all over the place. I am blaming all the empty spaces in my narrative on chemical-induced brain-dead-ness.

Intimidation

So I spend my procrastinating hours blog-hopping. My, oh my, are there some fabulous bloggers out there. Witty, funny, smart, insightful, a joy to read (is that even a word?).* And I think that is why I have been so quiet here. That and the fact that now that I have an audience (of 1), I feel the need to write something a little more meaningful than my usual whiney-ness. Well, all that AND the fact that I have spent the last couple weeks essentially chained to my desk or cooking or walking the dogs. Nothing earth-shattering. I don't even have great stories about appliance mass suicide and the good things that come from that. :-)

Maybe (most likely) it's that perfectionist in me who wants everything to be amazing, world-wise, hilarious, thought-provoking, maybe even poignant. All at the same time. Every time. All the time. I don't know why I expect this when I'm not that way in real life. Every now and then I'm one of those things for a few minutes. Sometimes even for a whole afternoon! (though I don't think I'm ever poignant)

So, how do I let go and write? Pretend like no one is reading and just say what I want to say? Get some get-started prompts from some how-to-write book or website? Or just take a few minutes out of the day to actually think about things, look around, observe, witness, reflect, and see what I see?

Anyway, subject change (to prevent this from becoming too whiney): Can I just say how incredibly excited I am to be going "home" for the holidays? I cannot wait to see my three little nieces, my cousins, my folks, my sister, my Nana. Well, OK, everyone!! I am not in the Christmas spirit AT ALL yet. Every time I hear a Christmas song on the radio, I scream in aggravation (really) and then have this near-violent knee-jerk reaction to change the station. Mr. J finds it all very hilarious, as he doesn't really pay attention and probably doesn't realize half the songs are carols, as they are being sung by Sheryl Crow or some such thing. Perhaps if they hadn't started playing these songs before Thanksgiving, I'd be a little more forgiving. Perhaps. But I do love Christmas time, and I am very excited for it all. I am hoping for snow and walks in the snow and maybe getting to the lake, only to find it frozen over with that perfect-for-ice-skating glasslike ice (not that that has happened for years). But even if it's 70 degrees and sunshiney, I can't wait. I love Boise, but I miss my family. Why can't they all just pack up and move out here?

OK, enough procrastinating. Fa la la la la.

*Disclaimer: Each of these blogs is all the words mentioned; I did not categorize them according to an overriding characteristic. Just seemed like a fun way to give a shout out to a few of the fabulous women out there who are entertaining me these days.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Turkey from Thanksgiving Past (2007)

So much to be thankful for. Here's just a few: The Dog, our families, our good health, the good health of our families, our home, living in Boise and not in Dallas, our friends near and far, steady work, good food, fuzzy slippers, a sunny day, snow on the way, our memories, eyes to read with, ears to hear with, mouth to laugh with, heart to love with, nose to smell all the wonderful smells (not counting Mr. J's sweaty running clothes on the laundry room floor), fresh-squeezed grapefruit-orange juice, Mom's Christmas cookies delivered on my birthday, our beautiful nieces and nephews who I miss so much, our friend on the road to recovery from his horrific motorbike accident, The Dog's squeaky toy, my red curtains, raw cookie dough (even though I know it's sooo bad), Netflix and Hulu for those nights when we just want to veg, learning to knit, my cold sore finally going away, the places I've been, the places I've yet to go, my teachers and mentors, and most of all Mr. J. He is truly the best, even when he's at his most aggravating!

Prepping

I actually don't have that much prepping to do at all. My sole contributions to tomorrow's big feast are a big vat of garlic mashed potatoes and some onion confit (a.k.a. caramelized onions) in place of cranberry sauce. I'm also throwing in a batch of chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, just cuz. We did the shopping last night. Tonight we cook. And tomorrow we just reheat everything once we arrive at H's parents' house. Easy Peasy!

But it's this holiday and the next that always make me a little homesick, especially as my folks came out for a couple very memorable, very tasty Turkey Days down in Denver. Planning the menu, organizing the house so we could fit all 20 people, doing the shopping, preparing the food, all over glasses of wine (well except maybe for the shopping) and lots of laughter. Good times, indeed. But this is our first Thanksgiving here, and we are just establishing our connections. Our roots are very shallow. If I think back to our first Thanksgiving in Denver, I can remember our roots were just as shallow. I just didn't realize it. It was just us and two friends, who flew out from California, loaded down with a huge shopping bag of goodies from Trader Joe's (oh, how I miss them!--the friends and Trader Joe's). I don't even know if we made a turkey or what we ate. But I still remember the laughter and the good times. And I know that no matter what, we will always have that, no matter where we are. And I am eternally thankful for that.

Email from My Momma

I received an email from my mom today that I think is a prime candidate for Postcards from Yo Momma, but I'm going to keep it here on my little site rather than sending it out there for the "world" to read. It just cracks me up, so I want to record it for posterity, so I can come back for a smile and a laugh whenever I like:

Hi – Just talked with a man at church today who was talking about his birthday on Friday. Turns out he also turned 40. He has a wife, 5 kids, house and job. I was a little surprised when I found out his age but then when I looked at him, I thought yeah, I guess so. He is overweight so he looked a lot older than you but looking at his face, it was younger than I thought! Anyway, when he found out you were a day older than him, he wanted your email so he could get advice on “what’s next” from an older person. He really does have a good sense of humor but maybe you aren’t ready for that kind of humor quite yet! :) I’m glad you had a good birthday. I want the recipe for all the lamb dishes but especially for the drink! Nana needs a new drink! Well, I’ve got to take a shower and get ready to go to a friend’s house for dinner. What are doing for Thanksgiving? Do you have to make anything and are you going to share the recipe? I’m still undecided about the stuffing recipe. I don’t stuff the bird with it but I need a recipe. Any ideas? Oh yeah, Denise’s refrigerator died Friday and Jon went out and bought a Toshiba one today. They knew a year ago it was going, so they were shopping for types and brands. Made the day easier. Anyway, it seems he got a good deal and it should all be installed by Wednesday. Dad’s hard cast is on and he is going gang busters. Went to work right after the cast was put on, went food shopping with me that night, went to church and stood around and talked with people as they raked leaves and now is going out to dinner tonight. He offered to make the baked beans I am bringing but I said, it was ok – I’ll do it. As you can see, we too are a little busy. Have fun. Love, MOM

Yesterday

Little thoughts came to me yesterday (actually, it's today, but I'm not going to post it until tomorrow, so that makes today yesterday). Anyway, here are some of those thoughts:

--OW! On Monday, I went to my first "real" workout class in ages (real meaning there were actual weights and lunges and squats and even push-ups?!?! involved). And each day since then I've been moving more and more like a pregnant cowboy (though maybe that should be cowgirl) (man, do I love parentheses or what?). I can't seem to get up off our low-slung couch or up out of my itty-bitty Honda without bracing myself and sort of pushing my hips up with my butt, so that I don't actually have to engage my aching quads, which feel as if someone has beat them to a pulp with a bag of oranges. So there's the pregnant part. And then when I try to walk, I sort of swing my legs out to the side, instead of bending at the knees, to once again avoid using my poor, poor quads. Thus the cowboy. Add this to my swollen cold sore lip, and I am one hot about-to-be-40-year-old. Watch out world!

--It is now today, which yesterday would have been tomorrow. I had other little thoughts, but never got around to writing about them. So I'll just say that Today is here, and I am 40, and I feel no older than I did yesterday. However, it seems that I suddenly know everything, or so I profess to Mr. J, as I expounded on all things philosophical and psychological and political over breakfast. After listening to NPR and solving the world's problem with one pithy statement, I proclaimed, "I know everything!" After analyzing our sister-in-law and discerning the reasons for her lack of child-rearing skills, I knew I was right about it all, because "I know everything." Mr. J's reply after each of my oh-so-modest proclamations was, "And you didn't even stay in a Holiday Inn Express." GIGGLE! And now I'm off to enjoy my day, which I know will be splendiforous, because I obviously know everything.

When You're Smiling

The only reasons for today's title are (1) I could not come up with anything clever or witty, and (2) I'm listening to Pandora, and right now it's Louis Armstrong singing/playing what seems like a very melancholy version of that song. And this sort of suits me right now. I'm in a good mood all in all, and I want to smile. But yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, I was afflicted with the mother of all cold sores. Came out of nowhere and has now given me a big ol' fat lip, with all of the grossness of a cold sore and none of the sexiness of big puffy lips. Joy. So, not only does it make me grumpy, but it also hurts to smile. Boo. And tomorrow is the big 4-0 for me. I have anticipated this milestone for years. When I hit 33 or so, I finally understood Meg Ryan's lament in When Harry Met Sally: "I'm gonna be forty.... Someday!!" (I honestly did not understand that line when I first saw the movie in my 20s). And that someday is here. And of all the horrors I imagined (none of which have come true, by the way; no horrors--just sore knees, an achy lower back, and slowly deteriorating eyesight), I did not imagine entering my fourth decade with a whopping cold sore (the affliction of my teen years; the infliction that kept me from joining high school band, because you can't play the flute when you get a cold sore every other month). Anyway, what's next? A zit on my nose? Horrible teenage mood swings? What the heck, let's go for broke. Give me some braces, a thick pair of glasses, and ratty hair. It'll be like no time has passed. Apparently 40 is the new 16!