Libby has always said "I hold you," when she wants me to pick her up and hold her. It's sweet and adorable with her little three year old lisp. I loved it and a little piece of my heart would just melt every time.
Yesterday she said "You hold me." and that little piece of my heart broke just a little bit.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
It's Like Deja Vu
Sarah got her Delia's catalog (teen clothing) in the mail today. The models all look like they were chosen from an Alissa Milano look alike contest. Check it out: Delia's
They even have t-shirts with cuffs that are meant to be worn over the hand and red and black buffalo check in whatever clothing item you like. Doesn't it make you just feel like your best friend is going to call in five minutes to discuss the new guy in homeroom?
They even have t-shirts with cuffs that are meant to be worn over the hand and red and black buffalo check in whatever clothing item you like. Doesn't it make you just feel like your best friend is going to call in five minutes to discuss the new guy in homeroom?
Friday, October 12, 2007
A Banner Day For Bedlam
The furnace is moved! There are heating vents (that work) to the back bedrooms. Woohoo! The workmen aren't quite done, but they are staying late so they can get it so we can turn it on this weekend.
When we first bought this home, we chose it quickly because we didn't have a lot of time. It was priced about $25,000 under value, it was the ugliest house on the street, but had good enough bones to fix up and sell for a good profit. We were right about that; we should be able to price the home at nearly triple the purchase price by the time we are done. That said, it's taking a lot of work to get to that point.
For instance: the furnace was a mess. The home had an addition that had never been ducted into the original duct work. It's been heated with only passive heat since we moved in, keeping the addition about 10-15 degrees cooler than the original section of the house. Which means the living room and the master bedroom have to be kept hot so the kids didn't get too cold in their rooms. See? mess.
Yesterday, the workmen showed up to move the furnace to it's new location and get the ducting mess straightened out. It is now in a closet in the fourth bedroom (not used as a bedroom) and no longer in a closet in the kitchen. As soon as the hot water heater gets replaced in a new location (we're going with an on demand system to save floor space and for efficiency) we'll be able to rip out that kitchen closet. Oh and the wall. A great big wall between the living room and kitchen. It'll be cool.
Now I told you all that so I could tell you this: I got to wire in the furnace. Last night Steve ran the new wiring for the new location while I did the easy part of running the wire fish and not climbing in the attic. He just left a wire hanging out of a box in the wall. One of the installers told me that if the furnace were wired today, they could turn on the gas and we could have heat over the weekend. He also said that we could do a temporary wiring that just involved connecting wires. I can do that.
So I did. Cool huh? Yes, I'm pretty proud of myself. If I had a gold star I'd put it on my forehead.
When we first bought this home, we chose it quickly because we didn't have a lot of time. It was priced about $25,000 under value, it was the ugliest house on the street, but had good enough bones to fix up and sell for a good profit. We were right about that; we should be able to price the home at nearly triple the purchase price by the time we are done. That said, it's taking a lot of work to get to that point.
For instance: the furnace was a mess. The home had an addition that had never been ducted into the original duct work. It's been heated with only passive heat since we moved in, keeping the addition about 10-15 degrees cooler than the original section of the house. Which means the living room and the master bedroom have to be kept hot so the kids didn't get too cold in their rooms. See? mess.
Yesterday, the workmen showed up to move the furnace to it's new location and get the ducting mess straightened out. It is now in a closet in the fourth bedroom (not used as a bedroom) and no longer in a closet in the kitchen. As soon as the hot water heater gets replaced in a new location (we're going with an on demand system to save floor space and for efficiency) we'll be able to rip out that kitchen closet. Oh and the wall. A great big wall between the living room and kitchen. It'll be cool.
Now I told you all that so I could tell you this: I got to wire in the furnace. Last night Steve ran the new wiring for the new location while I did the easy part of running the wire fish and not climbing in the attic. He just left a wire hanging out of a box in the wall. One of the installers told me that if the furnace were wired today, they could turn on the gas and we could have heat over the weekend. He also said that we could do a temporary wiring that just involved connecting wires. I can do that.
So I did. Cool huh? Yes, I'm pretty proud of myself. If I had a gold star I'd put it on my forehead.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Presumption
Joshua was visiting at a friend's house yesterday. There were three nine year-olds there and they were allowed to eat in the friend's bedroom. We'll call them stinker 1, stinker 2, and stinker 3 (aka Joshua.)
Stinker 1 calls out: Waaaaaaiter! I want more chicken nuggets!
His grandmother (who was visiting that day,) calls back: I'm not the waiter!
Stinker 2 (a friend of stinker 1) calls out: Waaaaaaiter! I want more french fries!
Grandmother: I'm not the waiter!
Stinker 3 (my boy) calls back: Waitress! I want a glass of water!
She brought him the water.
And then after he told me the story we had a good talk about respect and especially respecting other people's grandmothers.
Stinker 1 calls out: Waaaaaaiter! I want more chicken nuggets!
His grandmother (who was visiting that day,) calls back: I'm not the waiter!
Stinker 2 (a friend of stinker 1) calls out: Waaaaaaiter! I want more french fries!
Grandmother: I'm not the waiter!
Stinker 3 (my boy) calls back: Waitress! I want a glass of water!
She brought him the water.
And then after he told me the story we had a good talk about respect and especially respecting other people's grandmothers.
Monday, October 01, 2007
There are times when a woman doesn't want a huge boquet of flowers
Like when it would cause the shared checking account to hit the negatives, or say the day before leaving on a long trip, or when they were free because the deceased's family didn't want to take home the chapel flowers. Sort of like these:
Yes, my sweet husband brought me home flowers. He came home Sunday after Church choir practice (he directs, I don't attend.) "Come see what I got you for our anniversary!" he said in his falsely bright, the joke is coming tone. It's been 14 years. I'm very, very familiar with that tone. He dragged me into the the living room and proudly pointed out the gaudy display perched on top of the piano, the only piece of furniture in the house that could possibly have held it. "See! I got you flowers." Having just returned from church myself, I recognized them, "um. Those are the flowers from Saturday's funeral." He laughed. Apparently, the family didn't want them and they were offered to Steve as he was leaving the building. He brought them home for me. Isn't he nice?
There is just something about the fact that they sat in a room honoring the body in the coffin that really takes the bloom off them so to speak. I'm trying not to let it bother me, but my goodness it gives me the giggles! See my pretty funeral flowers! They don't even match my room!
That cute bouquet completely dwarfed by the funeral flowers Steve brought home for me last week. That is pretty. I like it lots. It matches my living room. They don't make me giggle though. Not like my funeral flowers do. I giggle every time I look at them. Giggle at the complete ostentation and inappropriateness of them being in my living room. Which is probably why he brought them home in the first place. And that's why I married him, because he makes me laugh.
PS. here's my new purse as promised:
totally cute huh?
Yes, my sweet husband brought me home flowers. He came home Sunday after Church choir practice (he directs, I don't attend.) "Come see what I got you for our anniversary!" he said in his falsely bright, the joke is coming tone. It's been 14 years. I'm very, very familiar with that tone. He dragged me into the the living room and proudly pointed out the gaudy display perched on top of the piano, the only piece of furniture in the house that could possibly have held it. "See! I got you flowers." Having just returned from church myself, I recognized them, "um. Those are the flowers from Saturday's funeral." He laughed. Apparently, the family didn't want them and they were offered to Steve as he was leaving the building. He brought them home for me. Isn't he nice?
There is just something about the fact that they sat in a room honoring the body in the coffin that really takes the bloom off them so to speak. I'm trying not to let it bother me, but my goodness it gives me the giggles! See my pretty funeral flowers! They don't even match my room!
That cute bouquet completely dwarfed by the funeral flowers Steve brought home for me last week. That is pretty. I like it lots. It matches my living room. They don't make me giggle though. Not like my funeral flowers do. I giggle every time I look at them. Giggle at the complete ostentation and inappropriateness of them being in my living room. Which is probably why he brought them home in the first place. And that's why I married him, because he makes me laugh.
PS. here's my new purse as promised:
totally cute huh?
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