That you cannot find a Divorce Attorney at 10 o’clock at night.  After your loving spouse has just flushed a wad of paper towel down the finicky low flow toilet.  Yes, the one that you just spent an inordinate amount of effort getting unstopped two weeks ago.  Yes, the one that chokes on anything heavier than 4 kleenex.  Yes, the only toilet we have..

So, because you can’t find an attorney, I got a plunger instead.  And a huge-mongous bottle of Rotor Rooter, and then I yelled, alot.  And after all that, the toilet was fixed.  Again. 

It’s a good thing.  For him.  For me.  And most importantly, for that damned toilet!

So, now there’s a floor.  A nice floor.  Gray, looks like stone, rough textured, flecks of all sorts of stone-ish colors.  Yay floor!  There’s also a new toilet.  White, porcelain, low-flow & high efficiency, all but guaranteed to save us money per flush, and it does that well too!  No multiple flushes required, for the bigger tasks.  Um, yeah.  And, last but not least, today there’s a new vanity.  A very nice euro design, much more space efficient, actually larger but fits the room better than it’s old clunky predecessor.  And now our bathroom is looking like a brand new place.  And that makes me smile- big!  Because the changes are really amazing, when I take a walk down home decorating memory lane.  Starting with the original blue and white dots and geese that were living in there when I first moved in, to the interim of red stripes and shiny chrome that we first put in to work with what was there when we first tried to improve the livability of our rental home, to the new transformation into chocolate and white with khaki walls and brushed nickel metals that we’re finishing up today in the house that we own.    It looks nice.  Sleek, not too stark, but very new looking.  Yay New!!!  New is good!  New rocks!  I’ll post pictures as soon as my contractor isn’t a part of them.  Thanks JimBob for doing all this heavy lifting… this is the best Birthday present ever!!! 

Hey Kitchen Chickens? You’re next!!! 

So, yep, this week we’re getting a new inside outhouse… thanks to my step-dad and Mom!  Everybody, all together now- thanks Mom & Jim Bob!  And, for those of you too young to remember, so far it’s going just like all the other renovations that have been done to this house, slowly.  Why? Because the house hates renovations, hates change, and it fights all attempts to make it nicer with every dirty trick in the book.  All of them, at once.  Grrrrrr.  Just grrrrrr.  Yep.

The renovation list:

1. New Vinyl Flooring
2. New Toilet
3. New Vanity & Sink
4. New Towel Bar
5. New Shower Enclosure, Showerhead, Hardware

And after the first day, we have a new toilet.  Yep, a toilet.  After an entire day of labor from six people.  A toilet.  Oh, the new floor is down, sort of, because we had to do at least part of that in order to seat the toilet, but the floor is only partially glued, in that corner only.  And why, I’m sure you want to ask, is there so little done?  Yeah, I know you want to ask that, just like the Bob did, because you too are crazy or you have a death wish.  And the answer, when my head quits spinning around, is that this house hates me.  And so does the old floor, apparently.  So, the house and floor from Hell put their collective muscle into fighting my improvement plan all day yesterday.  They fought us tooth and nail, literally.  Oh yes, they did. Because that old floor, you know, the one that was curling up on the edges?  The one that looked like Kaybug could pull it up?  Well, it only did that to lure us into complacency. Then, when we started pulling, it seperated into two pieces.  The vinyl top layer that pulled up really easy, and the paper backing that was made in Hell.  Yes, Hell!  It’s covering the Devil’s bathroom I tell you.  Because that second layer didn’t come up easily at all.  In fact, it finally had to be soaked in water and scraped up like wallpaper.  On our hands and knees.  So that happy joy funtime project?  The one that shouldn’t have taken more than an hour at the most?  It took frackin’ hours people!  Hours!  In a bathroom that’s no bigger than a McMansion Walk-In Closet! 

So campers, that was my world yesterday, on my hands and knees, scraping up flooring backing, and today I’m sore.  Everywhere.  Just like everybody else.  Sore like I’ve been beaten with sticks.  Sore like I was in a car wreck.  But, proudly, I can report that we were finally victorious and the new toilet is in.  And it is so beautiful, all pristine and white, that I just want to cry from the beauty.  Sitting there, majestic in it’s newness, casually posed on the marbled faux stone flooring, it’s a work of art.  And today, if all goes better than yesterday, we’ll have a new vanity.  And maybe the interesting yard art will be hauled away to the Habitat store.  Because I never want to see that old toilet, and it’s little secret stash of yuck that it was hiding under the base, again.  Although I do think we could put it someplace in the yard and use it to build a really nice shrine to Saint Larry the Cable Guy.  Add some flowers in the bowl, a flamingo or two and maybe fill the tank with PBR cans and we’ve got some really great yard art!  Talk amongst yourselves and vote – tax write-off/donation or shrine to the Patron Saint of Rednecks?  My neighbors anxiously await your vote! 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go.  We’re about to get started for today and I think the plumbing pipes need a smackdown before we get started.  Preemptive strike and all that.  If you have the time today, do me a favor and email the Bob.  Let him know that the Surgeon General has determined that the words "what exactly did you do today?" can be hazardous or dangerous to his health. 

I’m just sayin.    

So, what with gas being oh about a bazillion dollars a gallon now, everybody is trying to find ways to reduce dependency.  Or so they say.  Myself, I’m not seeing any big changes.  Not yet.  And I don’t think I will, for a while anyway.  This situation with oil and food is going to have to cause a lot more pain for a lot more people before any real changes come of it.  Don’t believe me?  Well, consider this.  My Father, a dyed-in-the-wool conservative Republican and true average Joe, told me last week that he didn’t think anything would ever change about gas prices.  He said that he knew people up in Dandridge who were still taking the last $5.00 they had and putting it in their car so they could run over to The Wal-Mart in Jefferson City and visit with whomever happened to be there that day.  And he finished with the thought that as long as people were willing to use gas like that then prices would continue to go up, and nothing would ever change.  And, when you stop to consider his reasoning, he’s right.  Wethepeople have more control over pricing than we even realize, and we’re part of the problem with pricing being what it is.  No matter how high the prices go, we continue to show our acceptance by not changing our lives.  Not changing our consumption.  Not changing at all.  The Bob would tell you that back in 2005, after Hurricane Katrina, when gas prices shot up so very high the first time, I said they’d be there to stay in a couple of years.  Because we showed that we’d still pay whatever that pump showed, and we weren’t changing our lives at all over something so inconsequential as more money for gas.  We just changed the budget around and fit in the new expense.  Wethepeople have the ability to end speculation and return gas prices to a more normal range, simply by controlling our usage.  Cutting back on unnecessary trips and consolidating the trips we must make.  Carpooling.  Taking the bus.  Even in the suburbs you can change things.  Just think, we are the reason that Speculators (the newest oil boogeymen) are able to speculate on oil.  Because if we weren’t still using too much oil then there’d be nothing to speculate on.  And we are.  Way too much oil, in fact.  For things that aren’t necessary, like shopping at three separate grocery stores, in order to save a nickle on the price of eggs and Tide detergent.  

I’ll go ahead and date myself here and say that I am old enough to remember all the stickers on light switches, way back in the 70s, to remind us to do our part to conserve energy.  How the world has changed!  Today it’s somebody else’s fault, somebody else’s job to conserve, because we’re entitled to use as much as we want.  How many people today turn off their computer?  Or their power strips?  How many people have actually made the change to energy efficient bulbs?  If you’re like me you haven’t because you don’t like the way they look.  Um, yeah, that’s real smart huh?  Aesthetics are keeping me from saving energy.  Yeah, I admitted that.  I’m part of the problem too.  And I’ll be honest, I’d really like to put us on KUB’s green power program, but it costs more.  Yeah, crazy, isn’t it?  It costs more to buy renewable-resource generated electric than it does to buy coal-generated electric.  I guess if they factored in the cost to the communities that are being destroyed by Mountain-top removal mining then I might see a big difference.  But I’m an American, just like you and you and you too, and unfortunately I don’t think about the collateral costs.  All I look at is the sticker, the bottom line.  But there’s more to this problem than the bottom line.  The Sticker price is much higher than we’ve ever imagined, if we don’t make some radical changes in how we live.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say to all three of you who are still reading this that if every family in the US cut their own personal energy consumption by a minimum of 10% across the board, the effect would be seen at the pump and on the power bills and everywhere.  But only if we made those changes permanent.  You know, as in forever.  Forget what the fatcats told you when they sold you that big honkin’ school-bus sized SUV or Van, there is not an infinite supply of oil and coal.  There are limits.  We are at them.  In everything.  And we aren’t good with imposing limits on ourselves, now are we?  Other people, yes.  Ourselves, not so much.  For proof, all you have to do is look around at the huge number of overweight adults and children there are in this country.  If obesity rates in this country are any indicator, then it’s obvious to everyone but us that we truly don’t know when or how to stop.  We waste oil, we waste food, in fact we waste everything, and we think it’s our God-given right to do so.  That we’re more righteous than all those heathen Chinese or Indians, and therefore we deserve more of the Earth’s bounty.  Sorry, but we don’t.  I know that may be a shock for some of you, but we don’t.  So why don’t you try parking the cars a little more, turn off the lights all the time, put down the fork and quit eating yourself to death, and start acting like adults.  Teach conservation, in everything.  Teach control.  We don’t have a lot of resources left.  We can’t declare war on everybody in order to control the remaining resources for ourselves.  We have to change.  Now.  Before it’s too late.  Think about it.  Change.  Just like Milk, it does a body good.   

Am cleaning my hut (apologies to Rima Rama for stealing her term) frantically because there will be a whole herd of people in it this Saturday night for a birthday party for the Bob.  Not sure where to start.  Hut is most certainly not ready for primetime, what with the ghetto fabulous doors and the muddy ruts in the yard primitive driveway.  Gaak!  Why did I think this was a good idea?  Just to be clear, if you read this week on knoxnews that a woman has been disarmed in a standoff with her husband involving a dustbuster and a scumbuster, you’ll know it was us.  Send cupcakes to the jail, ’cause I’ll need them really bad. 

OBTW, anybody want a slightly demented and slightly less than well- trained French Bulldog?  ‘Cause Mabel and her constantly shedding dog suit will be moving out this week if she pees on anything, at all.  Oh, and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, the cold that I thought was a cold?  It’s not.  It’s spring allergies.  Yay for allergies, in a slightly underwhelmed tone of voice.  And, just so you know, allergies are not helped by dusting.  I’m just sayin’. 

WHERE IS MY STAFF????

Spring – at my house

Whatever you might see in your yard or read on your calendar, Spring hasn’t arrived at Maplewood Manor.  Oh, it’s come to the rest of the neighborhood, with practically everything danged thing in Island Home bursting out all over, turning some shade of green, pink, blue or yellow and everything all shiny and new.  In fact, if the truth was known, it’s my favorite time of the year, but it’s not gotten to me and my yard, and I’m feeling really left out.  In fact, because of the recalcitrant flora and fauna in my yard, I’m forced to drive around the neighborhood and look on with envy at everyone else’s Spring Peep Show.  Now you know, I’m the neighborhood flower pervert, alert the authorities! 

Before you ask the obvious, yes we do have spring bulbs planted.  In fact, we even have green shoots coming up from those bulbs.  We just don’t have any flowers yet because they aren’t blooming.  Because they don’t want to, because they’re just like The Bob.  Yes, although I never knew it was possible, I have learned this Spring, much to my chagrin, that my flowers have the same personality as my husband.  Yes, you read that right, the flowers are just like the Bob.  You know, Eeyore?  What with his buddy- BALKAN GLOOM – and his tendency toward negativity, to say that the Bob approaches new and change with extreme discomfort is probably a huge understatement.  And apparently our Daffodils share his somewhat dim outlook on the world, and they’re all driving me nuts! 

To explain further, this is the first Spring that I’ve gotten to watch everything wake up in my yard.  When we were here in 2005 I was working and I didn’t have this surfeit of leisure time.  All I remember was yellow and green, flower in shape, somewhere around the mailbox area, and that’s usually enough for me.  Not really enough time to micro-manage the flowers, yo.  However, this year I do have the time, and plenty of it.  Therefore, nothing around here is escaping my micromanagement, except maybe the laundry, and I am noticing what the flowers are up to and I’m here to tell you that they are not keeping up with the program.  In fact, around here my Daffodils are pretty easy to spot because of their decided lack of, well, Daffodil flowers.  Oh, they’re up, out of the ground, and you can see their buds, still tightly wrapped in their flower cellophane.  They just haven’t chosen to join the spring show quite yet.  While all the other daffodils around our house look like yellow and white hoochie coochie girls, wiggling their flower hips, practically shouting “hey Sailor, buy me a drink?”, mine look like the maiden aunts of the neighborhood, prim and proper, wearing really large underwear and being very baptist in their blooming behavior.   I am beyond annoyed with them and because I know where they learned this behavior from, I’m calling them  bobodils.  And because I’m very adept at dealing with this kind of subversion, I know exactly how to get flowers out of them too.  Today I’m going down to the mailbox and I’m going to talk to them, again.  I’m going to tell them one more time that they’re the prettiest flowers on the block and I’ll even offer to guarantee their safety by not allowing Jeff The Mower King to mow them down until they’ve given us their all.  Then, if they still won’t show any yellow, I’ll just yell.  Carrot or stick, either way, I’m getting flowers out of them.  Meanwhile, anybody know if The Flower Market has any Daffys in stock?  I need a truckload of Spring, right now!

Did I mention that I hate loud clangy construction noise?  Oh, I forgot to mention that?  Sorry, okay, to catch you up, I really do. 

You’d think that if your neighborhood is over a hundred years old they would have already done all the required banging and clanking many years ago… but you’d be wrong.  Sidewalks… they’re building sidewalks… as an improvement.  I’m thinking of so many things with this but mainly “what the hell do we need a wheel for?  We have feet!  Feet work!  We don’t need a wheel, it’s just another thing to tear up.”  Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.  Just another thing to tear up, eventually.  We did without them for over a hundred years… why for the big rush now?  On the upside… tonight I’m going to sneak over and press the dog’s paws into the new cement… never did that as a kid and I think that’s part of my deprivation complex, maybe I could do away with four years of therapy with that one act of randomness.  Even better, Lulu and Mabel will be memorialized forever.  Just think, 100 years from now, somebody will see those prints and say “hmmmm, wonder whose dogs walked in the concrete”, and the answer will be MINE!!!! 

So, okay tomatoes, here’s the ketchup:

Mabel isn’t licking so much today, maybe the hypoallergenic food is working?

I scored tickets to Alison Krauss & Robert Plant, 3d row Floor baby!  Now I can relive at least a little of what I know I missed out on way back in 1977 when my incredibly cruel and non-understanding mom wouldn’t let me go see Led Zep at Tampa Stadium.  Not that my being 12 would have weighed on her decision at all, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought too.

I got my Seesmic Invite today… will give a review once I figure out how to work it and what it does.  Color me curious, but does this make me cool by default?  Just wondering whether my nieces and nephews will be impressed.

I’ve almost got all the details put together for our annual Girls Trip in February.  We’re going to St. Simons Island.  King and Prince Resort, beautiful beachfront historic hotel and they have complimentary wifi in the rooms and the lobby.  You so know that was the selling point for me… don’t you?  Seriously, though, I am so ready for shopping, eating, and fun drinks… girls trips rule!

I made the Bob’s favorite for dinner – Ragu over Wagon Wheels.  Because I’m a nice person.  And because it doesn’t involve using the oven.  Because we still don’t have one.  Just because.

I’m pissed, more snow possible, and it’s cold.  I really want to go to World Grotto tomorrow night to see Jenna & the Joneses.  Because, you know, we know somebody in the bad – CHARLEY BEAR ROCKS!  But, you know me and my SAD, I hate the cold and I don’t want to freeze to death.  So, what’s a girl to do?  Dilemma dilemma!

We’re taking Kaybug to Wonderworks this weekend to celebrate her good grades.  But we aren’t going to let her talk because of that troublesome grade of N that she pulled in "Avoids Unnecessary Talking".  And no, contrary to popular opinion, N does not mean Neato!  Look for us, we’re the ones dragging around the kid wearing duct tape lip gloss, easy to spot!

On the Yikes front – there were three pages of real estate foreclosure notices in yesterday’s KNS.  Makes me realize that no matter how bad my week has been, it wasn’t that bad.  My heart breaks for all those people, well except for the ones who bought for speculation.  Don’t hate it so bad for them.

Okay, that’s it.  You’ll only hear from me again this weekend if something blogworthy happens.  Or if Chuck Norris sends me another gift, because he’s Chuck and he should be honored in word and deed!  See ya!

Okay, just when I think we’re about out of the woods, somebody moves some more trees in the way.   Seriously, WTF? 

Our new trauma – tonight, as I was attempting to prepare a lovely and tasty meal for The Bob, I discovered after an hour of (non) baking that apparently our Oven has died.  Oh, the burners on the Range work fine, light up nice and pretty, cook good – except for when they get all uneven and burn things.  The oven…not so much… just barely got warm tonight, in fact.  The oven roasted potatoes didn’t even get a light tan, let alone a roast.  I checked out the workings and I can’t even light the pilot or anything – it’s deader than 4 o’clock in Chestnut Hill.  And, you know, just because we like keeping our decisions difficult, we are already planning on re-doing the entire kitchen this year.  So, with all that coming up, we don’t want to spend a great huge chunk of cash either repairing or replacing the old range.  But, because we are redesigning the space and everything, we aren’t ready to pick out my new dream-range just yet.  Yeah, that’s how it always is with us, never easy, never simple.  So, with all that under consideration, tomorrow I’m going to Honest Joe’s Premium Used Appliances to try and locate a used gas range that will do us for the duration. 

Before I leave, I’ve Just gotta ask- WHY IS IT ALWAYS US?  And, to whomever it is that I have hacked off, okay, fine, I give up, you win.  Whatever it is that I did to you, I apologize for it profusely and I promise not to ever do it again.  Mean it, really.  Now, can you please take the "kick me" sign off my butt? You’re wearin’ me out!

The leakage is fixed!  Well, actually more like removed.  It was just the spigot at the top of the riser that had cracked, and the guys pulled the whole thing out so we no longer have an annoying pipe sticking up out of our yard for no apparent reason.  I think everybody was relieved that it wasn’t anything really bad, like maybe a break in the 5 ft. deep buried line or anything stupid like that.  THANK YOU JEEBUS!!!  However, because, you know, the universe has painted a big old target on me and all that, of course there had to be something else wrong.   Something quiet and sneaky that we didn’t find until after the other thing was fixed.  I know, why is there always something else?  WHY WHY WHY?  Regardless, apparently there’s this thing called a "Pressure Reducing Valve" that’s attached to the main waterline that comes into your home.  And, apparently this valvey thing is really important because it keeps your pop-off valve (who knew the house even had one of those?) from blowing and flooding the basement… which would be very bad indeed.  It also apparently keeps your water faucets from leaking, which means that it’s been bad for at least four years because the kitchen faucet has been dribbling the entire time I’ve been in the house.  So, after a trip to the Home Depot for the Repair Team and a very quick but thorough clean up of the basement so they could actually get down there and work, the repairs are almost complete.  HALLELUJAH!  Maybe now I can get the computer up and running… maybe. 

On the personal side, the Bob says he wants the guys to check me out too.  He says that from their description of the second problem, it would appear that my personal pressure balancing valve may be bad.  You know, because I tend to pop off at him with amazing frequency, or so he says.  Just so we’re all on the same page, the Bob is now sleeping outside in the hammock.  Anybody got a Refrigerator box he can borrow… ’cause baby it’s still cold outside!