Four week review

Holy crap! It's been a while. I didn't fall into a hole or move to Morocco or get distracted by my ever growing mid-section. It's just been a really, REALLY busy month. In fact, I just realized this week that it is June. JUNE, people. That means that we are half way through the year, I'm half way through my pregnancy and Lost will never be on TV again. EVER. So sad. Great finale, by the way. The island was real, the flash sideways were purgatory. If I have to explain that to ONE MORE PERSON, my head will turn inside out, I swear.

Anyhoo, a brief recap would look like this:

1) Marc discovered the existence of a money tree in our backyard as we bought two new cars and sold our old ones. We now both own proper parent-mobiles, neither of which is a mini-van, THANK THE GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN. My sweet and darling Blaze - the car I have driven since high school - has found a new home with a friend so I can go over and pat her hood once in a while when I'm feeling nostalgic. My new car - Harriet - has all sorts of nifty buttons and features, most of which I have not figured out, mainly due to ignorance and fear of accidentally launching a missile which I'm fairly certain this car could do. Also, the owners manual is about 400 pages thick and that would require a bottle of wine to get through - verboten in my delicate state. My old manual was one page and consisted of two bullet points:

• Insert key and turn to make car start. Use hand crank when this fails. Horse and buggy are out back if this doesn't work either.

• Everything else can be solved with duct tape and prayer.

And this seemed to work for the 18 years that I drove her. Though sometimes I was late to work, what with hitching up the horse and all.

2) I have been nesting like it's my job. There is nothing quite like the realization that come October activities like showering, sleep and a lazy morning perusing Elle Decor will be a thing of the past. The walls need to be painted, like, NOW. By me. Which is what I have been doing with every spare moment. My client who is an OB/GYN asked the other day with a horrified expression, "You're not going up and down a LADDER, are you?" when I explained the paint in my hair. Sensing that this was not a GOOD thing, I lied and said, "Of COURSE not!" But what kind of question was THAT? I mean, how is one supposed to get the corners and stuff if I DON'T go up a ladder? I can't send Kylie up there with a brush attached to her tail, after all. She has no sense of how to paint a straight line. I've tried.

• As a footnote I should add that I've gotten all cowboy about the painting and don't tape or tarp. People regard this with a lot of suspicion, like I'm committing some sort of foul play by not taking proper precautions. But you know how in grade school how they taught you to color IN THE LINES? I'm really good at that. So stop with the gasps, please.

3) I've been doing the kind of writing work that hopefully brings in actual profit. Which takes us so much brain power that at the end of it all I can only really drool onto my keyboard which really doesn't produce the kind of riveting content that you all expect from this site.

4) I've been staring with horror and fascination as my body goes from "svelte" to "sea manatee." Dude. There is a human being in there and no matter how much I acknowledge that fact, I don't think it will really become something more than an abstract idea until I meet our son in October. Marc is convinced that I'm just eating a lot and slipping the doctor a dvd of someone else's sonogram when we go on our visits. In the meantime, I can tell you that maternity pants rule. I'm retiring my Official Eating Trousers and keeping these on standby for every big meal.

This weekend, Marc and I celebrate six years of marriage. We dated for some four years prior to that, so we've put up with each other for roughly a decade. Yay, us! Marc is gifting me with his presence since he has taken my pregnancy as a mandate to go climbing every weekend until the baby arrives for fear that he will NEVER GET OUTSIDE AGAIN. Logical, since my first reaction after giving birth will be to scream "GAH!" at my flabby midsection after which I will chain Marc to the changing table. This is what you do, right? Never allow your mate to have any sort of life again? Or at least until the kid is 18?

Do you sense my sarcasm?

So my gift to him is an afternoon spent at an art exhibit we're both interested in followed by dinner in San Francisco. Which is really a gift to me as well, thus sparing him the need to buy me an anniversary present. See what I did there? I am a giver! Sunday, I'm sure Marc will flee to the forest and I will continue with the painting that never ends. How is it that our house has so many WALLS? My mom always said that life would be so much easier if we just lived in a tent that we could shake out every once in a while, this usually after a morning full of choring. I'm beginning to see her point.

Have a great weekend everyone!

I promise, I'll get back to stories that don't include my reno. Soon.

The cabinets are done!  Ponies for everyone!  Today our cabinet people finished the last little bit of work, Marc handed them the final check while I hid in the corner and finished the vermouth.  I had suddenly realized that all of that packing I had done last week needed to be UNPACKED...and put away. The thought made me want to weep into my fists, BUT! There is a new kitchen at the end of all of this, so onward I shall press.

Photos! We are without granite, but that will be coming on Wednesday.

Although even sans granite it's a sight lot better than it was before. Say it with me: NO MORE ORANGE BIRDS! And yes, that is a very large sink. We plan on using it as an extra bath in the event of an onslaught of guests.

I call this, "Stove with Drill and Random Detritus."

I'm going to have to get rid of the pathetic blue drapes. I hung them three years ago as they were preferable to those horrid vertical blinds that hang in every apartment in your 20's. Like many things in my house, I stopped seeing them after a while. But our new kitchen so clearly demands better accessories that I'd best heed the call and take care of that before the cabinets up and leave on account of my poor fabric choices.

And here is what I did this afternoon because I just wasn't ready to face unpacking and it was 70 degrees out and...well...how could I NOT be outside?

Happy dog. Yay.

Say it with me: NO MORE BIRDS!

I'm afraid that anything I attempt to write today is going to be tainted with the fact that I AM SO TIRED. Really, I am. It's true that I didn't sleep particularly well last night. Marc has been gone for a week and finally returned home last night and so after 6 days, I had to reintroduce myself to his nightly activities which include stealing covers, pillows and invading my side of the bed. Understand that I missed him dreadfully and was terribly happy for him to arrive home, but he is as active in sleep as he is in life and it takes some getting used to when you've had all of that mattress acreage to yourself. Kylie sleeps up there with me when he is gone, but the most she does is press a paw into your forehead when she's ready to get up, and that's usually around 9am. Oh the bliss of a pet that follows your sleep patterns.

No, the real reason for my fatigue is that I spent a lions share of this last week and all of the weekend packing the kitchen up for our reno that starts tomorrow. Did you know that two people can have, like, 201 sets of dishes? And almost an equal amount of glassware? I'm not sure where it comes from as I swear we had only 8 wine glasses once upon a time - I think they procreated behind closed doors one night as I was packing and packing and PACKING and wondering if it would ever end and if my life might be much improved if I threw it all into the recycling bin and just walked away. Either that or we need to cut down on our booze consumption. WHAT? Somewhere Marc's heart just stopped.

So most of it is done. I have a wee bit more to finish up today along with making a temporary kitchen on top of our bookcase in the living room so that Marc can still have his morning coffee and toast. He'll most likely take the time between brewing and consumption to read some Camus or Stegner or Rand, what with the proximity to good literature and all. We like to keep our brains working, you know, despite our surroundings.

I'll take some photos of the process but for now I'm focused on the fact that THERE WILL BE NO MORE BIRDS by the end of the week. Sweet fancy Moses, I can't tell you how happy that makes me. The glee in my heart, it's immeasurable. For now, I'm off to pack up the remaining items. Or throw them out. I'll see how I feel after that shot of tequila that's calling my name.

What is our fire insurance policy, anyways? I should know that.

I was going to post pictures today, to give you some sense as to what has been going on over here at TLP HQ, but then Marc came down with a cold that is masquerading as The Plague which means that he is twisting and listless on the corner of the couch moaning all sorts of unintelligible, phlegmy things that translate into "I AM SUFFERING O WOE BRING ME SOME TEA AND A HOT POULTICE AND O THE MISERY!" So I've been alternating between ferrying various healing items to said corner to make him feel better and wondering if I'd really get caught for smothering him. HA! Kidding! Sort of!

Anyhoo, the tea making and airing out and chasing of used Kleenex all over the house has kept me from taking photos of what is going to heretofore be known as The Lifting of Jen Out of Her Home Decor Related Despair, 2010. Which might be a bit dramatic, but it is something I've been looking forward to since the day we moved in. In to this little house that possesses the most 1980's of kitchens, the ugliest of tile choices and lighting fixtures that have set me running, screaming into the night on more than a few occasions.

We are also swimming in a sea of brown. I know that sounds alarmingly fecal, but with the mismatched wood colors, the brownish counter top and tile of indeterminate color, the only word that comes to mind is poop! It's a petrified wood forest of horrors and later this month it is ALL COMING OUT. Well, we're starting with the kitchen. I'll post pictures this week so you can adequately understand what we're dealing with...and when you see them you'll scream, MY EYES! MY EYES! JUST SET IT ALL ON FIRE! But! There is hope!

So this weekend, we spent a lions share of Saturday picking out granite, light fixtures, a sink, a faucet. Activities that have the potential to make a husband and wife want to kill one another because you come to realize that you've married an aging frat boy who bases his preferences on whether or not the sconces adequately represent boobs. I'm thrilled to report that this was not the case with us and that we were in and out of all stores in a maximum of ten minutes, agreed on everything and managed NOT to slaughter the irritating children at the granite place. We even high fived over burgers at lunch at our timeliness! Our ability to acquiesce to the other one's wishes! That we didn't get pouty when the other person said no! Marriage at it's best people.

We returned home and Marc promptly fell ill. I think all of that compromise and good humor and the irritating kids really took it out of him. I brought him some tea yesterday and as I stroked his head, he sneezed in my face. I got excited for a moment thinking, "Perhaps I will fall ill and have to take to my bed with the vapors!" You see, I could use some time off before the Kitchen Overhaul. But alas, my new, super-powered immune system laughs in my face at my wishes to be bedridden just long enough to get through the stack of books on my nightstand. Instead, the next week will be full of culling and sorting and packing and rending of my garments as I wonder what sane person needs so much tupperware and three types of vegetable peelers.

But! Shiny new kitchen! And lack of brown! And odd wood assortments! Hooray!

Photos forthcoming.

Things I Do Not Understand - Foundations

Sweet fancy snickers, it's Monday already? It would appear that since this was the first weekend in for-eh-EH-var that I didn't have a million and one things to do that it sped by with warp speed. I'm just getting ready to settle in for a Friday night movie and already here we are at the start of another week. WHAT?

I'm starting to realize what it means to be an adult. I spent Sunday morning cleaning out gutters in my town home complex...well, I didn't personally clean any gutters but I offered up encouragement and directions to those who were. This falls under the category of KNOW THY STRENGTHS. And I'm best with two feet on the ground and telling others what to do. Fact. I was in the middle of instructing my neighbor where to throw some leaves - NO TO THE LEFT! - when my OTHER neighbor called me over and said, "Jen, do you think the foundation should look like this?" My first instinct was to say, "I don't know. Let me go check with my dad." I think those words actually started to fall out of my mouth and then I realized that she was asking ME. As though I would have anything profitable to offer about foundational integrity! HA! I mean, we didn't float away in the last storm, so I'm assuming it's solid! High five! Let's have some drinks! What I did do was lean over and look at the area she was talking about while cupping my chin and going, "Hmmmmm...I'm not sure that looks right. Should we call someone?" Because when in doubt, PASS THE EFFING BUCK.

She stared at the spot in question for a bit and then said, "Maybe." Relieved, I went off to hold a ladder for someone and wrestled, as I often do, with the fact that I'm a homeowner and therefore responsible for things such as roofs and foundations and sprinkler systems. This makes me want to fall to the ground in horror as I feel like it was just last week that I was paying rent for the first time and calling my mom to say, "HA! I can make it on my own! Oh, would you put dad on? I can't figure out how to plunge the toilet." The sad thing being that I'm 33 and I still can't unclog a toilet properly. I just cover my eyes with one hand while stabbing at the bowl with the plunger, praying that it doesn't turn inside out and douse me. Because that happened once and I still haven't recovered my ability to feel, or love.

Why are we talking about this? Oh yes...adulthood!

Which isn't all that it was cracked out to be, right? But there are some good things. For instance - sex! And we're now allowed to stay up late and watch bad tv! And sex! Or eat 12 Tootsie Rolls in one sitting without my mother stabbing my in the back with her bony finger saying, "THAT IS TOO MUCH SUGAR!" (I did that on Saturday night, and it just so happens that it IS too much sugar.) And all of the sex!

Anything else? No? I know, I can't think of anything either.

Sigh. Happy Monday people. I'm off to go and boss around some clients.

The Yard - Part 3

So you'll note I wasn't very good about posting last week - or this morning, for that matter. It's been a nail biting past few days over here at Lucky Paw HQ. We've been putting the final touches on Phase One of this yard overhaul, and we're coming slowly to the end. May I emphasize slowly. As I type this, there are still men in my backyard. This is Day 7 of what was supposed to be a TWO day project, and they will be back again tomorrow to finish off some peripheral things.

But - LOOK! We now have a PATIO!

Marc spent quite a bit of time scrubbing the furniture and making it look all sparkly and brand new. Pat him on the back when you see him next, won't you?

Isn't it amazing and nice? Say yes. My nerves can't handle any criticism.

It's hard to tell from these photos, but the cement has this lovely, subdued color to it. It looks speckled and white-ish in spots because they have not yet scrubbed off all of the rock salt that they put down to give it a mottled surface. Trust me, it's going to be gorgeous.

I'm still not happy with the path, which we'll muck about with tomorrow in the hopes that we can make it look a little less clunky. It's just me being rather adamant about everything looking just-so and the path not quite having achieved the same appearance that I have floating around in my head. Poor path. It's going to suffer from low self-esteem what with my constant criticizing.

Kylie doesn't quite approve. Note her stance. Marc, however, found that he could do some sweet tricks down the path whilst on his bike. So that's something.

After we've recovered from the financial hurricane that has been these past two weeks, we will begin planting. Or, my mom will. Or, really, my mom will tell me what to buy and then point at places in the yard and some willing souls will dig holes and put the plants where she tells them to. I'm not allowed to participate given my talent for killing things. I'll be banished to the inside where I'll press my nose up against the glass and watch the garden take shape. All while indulging in a glass of wine. Really, who's the winner in that part of the process? That would be me.

The post wherein I confess to eating too much chocolate

Sweet tap-dancing Moses, it's been a week. It's Friday afternoon, and a project that was supposed to take two days - TWO DAYS - is now on Day 6. It should also be noted that I have consumed more calories this week due to stress than I have in ages. Thank God I now have a lovely backyard to swan about in as I'm not going into polite society until I've worked the chocolate off of my ass. So if you need me, I'll be over here, curled up in an unflattering pair of dog-hair covered yoga pants. You know, that pair that's been pre-stretched for such situations.

I would put up more pictures today, but the workers are still in the yard, and they didn't come prepared for a photo session, so you'll have to wait until Monday when I shall post our yard in all of its patio-laden glory. Next step, plants. Seeing as I kill everything that I touch, I'm leaving that area to an expert. Which is to say, my mother. Things thrive under her care; they are too frightened not to. What she lacks in stature, she makes up for in German-ness, which sound dubious at best, but if you meet her, you'll understand how the Germans made it as far as they did during WWII. It's not the master race, but it's an efficient one. Trust.

Have a great weekend, all! More Monday - and Happy Mothers Day to the Mom's that read this. May your daughters not grow up to have a not-so-secret blog wherein she regularly uses her family for content. Or, at least do enough to give her GOOD content...it's the least you can do.

The Yard - Part 2

I'm happy to report that yesterday came and went drama free. The patio form was put in...lookit!

I even get a step out into my backyard! I shall stand on it and wave at all of my subjects. Or just the dog. Whatever.

I tried to get Kylie to pose with that thingy that tamps down the earth. She wouldn't comply. Bitch.

Anyhoo, you can imagine my relief, coming home from work and finding that not only were there no other disasters, but that progress had been made. The leaky pipe? A thing of the past! Behold!

Pipe! Gone! Leak-no-more! And my tennies, since I just went for a run.

Yay! So there was rejoicing in our house last night. Which means that we had two glasses of wine with dinner and not just one! And Marc did naked lunges in celebration of our soon to be patio. He saves those for special occaisions.

However, the earth is still wet wet wet. From THREE DAYS AGO. This ought to tell you how little sun we get back here. If you're worries about melanoma, come hang out in our yard! You'll come away paler and quite possibly with the sniffles due to the cold...but just think of how much you'll save on sunscreen!

I mean, REALLY. Check out how MUDDY that is. From SATURDAY.

So the concrete goes in this afternoon. Good thing Marc got that body buried yesterday.

The Yard - Part 1

It's been am exciting weekend over here at Lucky Paw HQ. Well, exciting is a bit of an overstatement, as the words stressful and messy come to mind first. But! There shall be a lovely outcome to all of this, so we shall forge ahead despite frayed nerves and increased blood pressure.

This post really falls under the heading of "Why Home Ownership Is Not Always The Time." Because there are moments when, quite frankly, I miss calling a landlord and saying things like, "The toilet is acting funny! Make haste! Fix it!" and then going back to eating bon bons and doing important things...like blinking.

However, we bought this lovely little home almost three years ago now and have found that, along with exorbitant property taxes , it's mind numbingly expensive to make any improvements. Especially if you're like me and have a deep interest in home design. Which means I can be in any store and immediately zero in on the most pricey item and say, "Oh that would look AMAZING in our living room," all while Marc is feverishly calculating how much we are losing in net worth while rending his garments and wondering why he ever said hello to me in the first place. What? I had on tight jeans. He couldn't help himself.

Anyhoo, the prior owners had planted what appeared to be a flourishing backyard right before we bought the place. They were concerned about curb appeal and we appreciated the green, green lawn and the flowers that were everywhere. Honestly, the yard is what made this house so appealing. It's huge - well, by urban California standards. We had visions of outdoor parties and Kylie rolling around on the verdant, green lawn. It would be our oasis, a place for us to escape after our long days of toil and corporate misery. We purchased with glee.

Within two weeks of our moving in, everything died.

I wish I was exaggerating - one might find it hard to comprehend that I have a talent for that - but I'm not. Everything died. Marc was out there at all hours, sprinkling water and fairy dust over the lawn, shaking a rain stick at the plants, applying bandages to those that seemed broken and yelling "STAY INSIDE!" to me, since I have the black thumb between the two of us. He thought my aura might be the cause of the carnage. It was sad.

And, we found, not our fault. The previous owners had planted everything and put down sod within days of our buying the place. They had not, however, researched what they were installing in a yard that gets no sun, has hard soil and is plagued by oak root fungus. The lawn just gave up, getting about 30 seconds of sun per day, and the rest of the foliage, seeing the lawn go, decided it wasn't worth the energy to put up a fight and so followed suit. We mourned. Heavily. Our dreams of floating about the yard in gauzy dresses (Marc) and having proper cocktail hours (me) dashed.

Our budget, having been extended to buy the house in the first place, was meager. And if you've ever done a yard overhaul (which this one needed - the extent of the work that would be required became obvious as we really inspected what was going on under all of that dead greenery) you know that it requires many, MANY dollars. Something we haven't had in surplus over the past few years. (Or, when it WAS in surplus, other things came up. Like, Italy. Don't judge.)

Oh whoops...Marc forgot to move the body in that plastic bag on the deck...bugger.

Anyhoo, we've finally decided that it was time - TIME - to address the yard. Or, the Poo Patch as we've been calling it, since it's primary function has been to serve as Kylie's bathroom. Something she is going to be pissed about once it's gone. Pun intended. Ha! Sorry...it's a Monday. So on Saturday, our project manager type person, Martine, came over with his crew. We decided, through much gesticulating and grandiose hand motions and loud speaking (why is it that when someone cannot speak English that you automatically start speaking LOUDER? As though by sheer volume you will be able to penetrate the language barrier?) that they would level the yard and move the sprinklers Saturday and then pour the patio on Monday. Nice! We would be cocktailing it by Tuesday. This worked for us.

I removed all poo before taking this photo. You're welcome.

So Marc wrote a large check and immediately had a small coronary. I slapped him about for a while to revive him and then we went about our business...until there was a nervous rapping at our back door. I went out. Martine, who has a slight grasp of English had left to purchase supplies, and there stood one of his workers, who spoke NO English. He had started pickaxing away at the earth. His progress had been stunning. However, he had been so vigorous that he had hit a water pipe that was now gushing into our backyard. "AGUA! AGUA!" He yelled, pointing to the small lake that was forming next to the deck. Agua, indeed! I could see that! Thank God for Sesame Street. But what I was really thinking was, "SWEET MOSES I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO BUILD A RAFT SHOULD THINGS REALLY GO AWRY! DO WE HAVE FLOATIES FOR THE DOG???"

Outwardly, I remained calm, smiled, put up a finger to indicate, "Please wait a moment. I am going to go inside, brew a spot of tea and figure out how to solve this rather inconvenient problem." I found Marc who was busy installing speakers, plucked at his sleeve and said, "WATER! There is lots and LOTS OF WATER!" He just looked at me, swathed in wires and sweat and said "HANDLE IT."

Which, I'm happy to say, I did! But not before we had to shut off the water for our entire complex (6 other units), cap off the damned pipe and then have the city out to turn the water on AGAIN. And all while we wasted gallons and GALLONS of precious water. So when the water rationing goes up to 20% this summer and the drought problem increases, you can come and stone us. That was our fault! Sorry! But! Come over! We'll distract you with cocktails in the backyard!

Stupid pipe. And my slippers! Which are super comfy! And mannish, but whatever.

Sigh. So the project has now been delayed by a day due to our own version of Watergate. As you read this (hopefully...hopefully) the sprinklers will be being capped, the yard further leveled and the forms being put in for the patio. I didn't capture the lake via photo, as I was frantically talking to the City of Mountain View "WE ARE GOING TO DROWN IN OUR OWN BACKYARD!" and running around the complex trying to find all of the possible shut off valves. Note: do NOT buy a house that doesn't have it's own shut off. Otherwise your neighbors come out and go, "I was just taking a shower and the water suddenly stopped...do you know why?" with suds around their ears. And then you have to explain that your need for a patio is more important than their personal hygiene. And then say, "Sorry! Cocktails in the yard! Sorry! Later this week! Sorry! In the meantime, have some deodorant!"

Mud slide out to the back gate. For those of you who I went to college with - how much does this look like the Sigma Chi house during Greek Week?