So a few days before our 17th wedding anniversary my husband asked me what I wanted. The answer came without hesitation. "A commode!" (Okay, so what I really said was a toilet, but doesn't commode sound so much better?). Back in August when we started looking for a home I had three search chriteria that were pretty much deal breakers. 3 Bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and 1700 square feet. If I got an extra bathroom or some more square feet or happened to sqeeze in an extra bedroom, all the better. But seriously with 5 members in our family at least two bathrooms was a must. The ordeal and ups and downs of our search for the perfect starter house is a story for another day. Let's just say what we settled on actually came with two and a half baths! Hooray for 3 commodes! The only problem is that two of them had to be removed to while we pulled out carpet (yes, you read right, carpet in the bathroom) and decades old vinyl tile. The old floors came out and the new went in. They look fantastic. But for some reason, those commodes never made it back to their homes. Our one working bathroom is upstairs. Our current sleeping quarters are downstairs. 25 stairs, in the middle of the night, plus a spastic bladder, not fun. So for me there really was only one answer to what I wanted for my anniversary...a commode. I found one at Costco. A bargain with dual flush technology no less! (Think about it).
Of course the saga doesn't end there. First we had to install the baseboards. But before we could install the baseboards we had to replace the missing door casing. Then we had to paint the walls. While I was taping off the baseboard I nudged the supply line for the toilet. It broke and started leaking. We had to replace it. Next we got to painting the walls (two coats). We were finally ready to install the toilet. I get the camera to document this momentous occasion...and another roadblock. The tile made the base too low. The wax seal wouldn't seal. [expletive deleted]. We had to get an extension for the closet flange. Extension installed. Oh dear, the closet bolts arent long enough. Back to the home improvement store for the fourth time. New wax seal purchased. Closet bolts purchased. Finally ready to dry fit...and now we discover the toilet isn't level. (Seriously? Seriously!) It will need to be shimmed. Oh look, the supply line is leaking. Fix supply line. Paint damaged baseboard. Install new wax seal. Shim toilet.
Finally, finally the commode is installed. I'm all about doing our part to help protect the environment for future generations. And hopefully the novelty of the dual flush technology will actually help my kids to remember to flush. But for me, the dual flush just means finally having that second bathroom to use. Especially in the middle of the night!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Rollercoasters
(Circa August 2009)
Anyone who knows me well knows that I love rollercoasters. The bigger, the faster, the more extreme, the better. The anticipation as you snap the seat belt, lower that safety bar, or adjust that shoulder harness, is almost as delicious as the thrill of the first drop, the steepest bank, or those famous G's as your body flips heels over head in a loop de loop. I've yet to meet a rollercoaster I didn't love, love, love. Until now...
You see, my husband is at heart an entrepenuer. It wasn't something I saw in him right away, but his boasting of a spur of the moment trip to skydive, his ownership of a motorcycle, and his tales of youthful exuberance should have been a clue that he was into searching for thrills and taking chances.
Our first foray into small business ownership was like the kiddie coaster at the fair. Limited risk, limited exposure. A small high here, a sharp turn there and a dud of an ending. Nothing too alarming to keep us from moving on to something bigger and better.
The next time I'd say there was the need for a safetybelt. But we strapped it on and began our next journey onto an SBO rollercoaster. This one started slowly. Really slowly. Eventually we got to that hill where the train is on that chain and you are chugging, chugging, chugging, up, up, up. Just when we thought we'd never get to the top it took off and ran through the course with plenty of drops, sharp banks, a few quick stops, but in the end, we smiled, cheered, and stepped onto the platform to let someone else take the ride.
Now, we've all heard the cliche, "the third times the charm". Well, as of yet, I am not convinced. Our latest foray into the wild and twisty world that is small business ownership, let's just say it's the rollercoaster ride that has left me feeling dizzy, headachey, and ready to hurl...
It took off with a bang- like one of those coasters with magnectic propulsion. Then there were a few small hills, but soon came the loops. Not one. Not two. Countless times we were hurled in dirctions it just didn't seem possible that a track could go. Just when we thought the train would slow and we could catch a breath, regroup, and maybe, just maybe coast for awhile til the next big hill, a big swirling mass of twisted metal would take our breath away. No emergency brakes in sight, but could that be a sharp drop to end it? No--just more dreaded banks and twists like we had already endured.
Luckily, we still have each other to hold hands with as we endure the rest of this ride. It may feel like we are flying out of our seets, but if we just hold on-as if for dear life-I know we will make it...
Anyone who knows me well knows that I love rollercoasters. The bigger, the faster, the more extreme, the better. The anticipation as you snap the seat belt, lower that safety bar, or adjust that shoulder harness, is almost as delicious as the thrill of the first drop, the steepest bank, or those famous G's as your body flips heels over head in a loop de loop. I've yet to meet a rollercoaster I didn't love, love, love. Until now...
You see, my husband is at heart an entrepenuer. It wasn't something I saw in him right away, but his boasting of a spur of the moment trip to skydive, his ownership of a motorcycle, and his tales of youthful exuberance should have been a clue that he was into searching for thrills and taking chances.
Our first foray into small business ownership was like the kiddie coaster at the fair. Limited risk, limited exposure. A small high here, a sharp turn there and a dud of an ending. Nothing too alarming to keep us from moving on to something bigger and better.
The next time I'd say there was the need for a safetybelt. But we strapped it on and began our next journey onto an SBO rollercoaster. This one started slowly. Really slowly. Eventually we got to that hill where the train is on that chain and you are chugging, chugging, chugging, up, up, up. Just when we thought we'd never get to the top it took off and ran through the course with plenty of drops, sharp banks, a few quick stops, but in the end, we smiled, cheered, and stepped onto the platform to let someone else take the ride.
Now, we've all heard the cliche, "the third times the charm". Well, as of yet, I am not convinced. Our latest foray into the wild and twisty world that is small business ownership, let's just say it's the rollercoaster ride that has left me feeling dizzy, headachey, and ready to hurl...
It took off with a bang- like one of those coasters with magnectic propulsion. Then there were a few small hills, but soon came the loops. Not one. Not two. Countless times we were hurled in dirctions it just didn't seem possible that a track could go. Just when we thought the train would slow and we could catch a breath, regroup, and maybe, just maybe coast for awhile til the next big hill, a big swirling mass of twisted metal would take our breath away. No emergency brakes in sight, but could that be a sharp drop to end it? No--just more dreaded banks and twists like we had already endured.
Luckily, we still have each other to hold hands with as we endure the rest of this ride. It may feel like we are flying out of our seets, but if we just hold on-as if for dear life-I know we will make it...
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Great American Pastimes
Okay, so purists will say it doesn't count, but considering I've never done it before, it counts...backyard camping. I was thinking it might be the only way for me to go. Hot running water just a few yards away. Convenient potties. An electric outlet to inflate my deluxe airbed. In-n-Out Burger just a quick drive down the road. And still falling asleep under the stars (and waking up to each and every sound, including the rustling of my children as they turned over in their sleeping bags, the frightening sound of apples falling off the tree, and the neighborhood dogs doing their redition of the twilight bark) and waking up to the sounds of birds chirping. Really, honestly, two nights sleeping in a tent, no matter where its staked, is camping! Especially when the second night is followed by a rousing 6:30 a.m. wake up from Papa so we could head to the foothills for some fishing.
Of course, this was a big step for me too. I hadn't been fishing for over 20 years! The last time I went I swore I would never go again. It was mom and dad and I and a weekend up in the foothills. I still have flashbacks of falling into the river not once, but twice, the fierce wind, almost getting hooked by mom, and falling off the cliff. No really, its true. And we didn't catch a single fish!
But, as long as I was camping, why not fishing? Unfortunately our wonderful plan to go fishing up near the hatchery was squelched by the smoke from the Yosemite fire. So, we detoured and went to Knights Ferry. Despite the fact that not a single one of us caught a fish, nor even got a nibble, yet got enough snags that Papa had to go back to the car for more hooks, it was a beautiful day on the river.
The water was clear and cool and so inviting. It was so soothing to hear the water running over the rocks and the trees swaying in the breeze. It was fun to hear the excited yells of people launching their kayaks and rafts for the ride down river. It brought back fond memories from my childhood of rounding up night crawlers, picking wild asparagus, and watching grandma fry up the catfish. It was mostly just so refreshing to take time out from the hectic day to day pace of life and enjoy the great outdoors.
As we sat with our picnic lunch, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the next time we pitch our tent in will be out in the wild-well... as wild as a state campground can be.
Of course, this was a big step for me too. I hadn't been fishing for over 20 years! The last time I went I swore I would never go again. It was mom and dad and I and a weekend up in the foothills. I still have flashbacks of falling into the river not once, but twice, the fierce wind, almost getting hooked by mom, and falling off the cliff. No really, its true. And we didn't catch a single fish!
But, as long as I was camping, why not fishing? Unfortunately our wonderful plan to go fishing up near the hatchery was squelched by the smoke from the Yosemite fire. So, we detoured and went to Knights Ferry. Despite the fact that not a single one of us caught a fish, nor even got a nibble, yet got enough snags that Papa had to go back to the car for more hooks, it was a beautiful day on the river.
The water was clear and cool and so inviting. It was so soothing to hear the water running over the rocks and the trees swaying in the breeze. It was fun to hear the excited yells of people launching their kayaks and rafts for the ride down river. It brought back fond memories from my childhood of rounding up night crawlers, picking wild asparagus, and watching grandma fry up the catfish. It was mostly just so refreshing to take time out from the hectic day to day pace of life and enjoy the great outdoors.
As we sat with our picnic lunch, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the next time we pitch our tent in will be out in the wild-well... as wild as a state campground can be.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Insomnia
It's 2:53 a.m. and I am sitting here with thoughts whirling through my head. Like, what does "He's my boo" mean anyway? For anyone who is wondering boo means boy/girl friend (The urban dictionary is a great source for answers to questions like that, but beware, it can get vulgar). Boo can also be a term of endearment, which I already knew because it's one of the many nicknames I have for my adorable little boy. I also like to call him "Jackalackabingbong", and absolutely love it when he replies, "Mamalamadingdong". I've become quite the rhymer lately, almost to a fault, but it's what comes of having a 7, 6 and 4 year old, and innumerable readings of Dr. Suess (Mr. brown can moo can you?).
So that's what me and my insomnia do--whirl and twirl with the thoughts in my head. I had a friend who recently told me I should break up with my insomnia. Unfortunately when I tried to tell it that our 10+ year relationship was over it just gave me the cold shoulder. So, here I am creating a blog and trying to get some of those thought on--well not paper, but you know what I mean. Hopefully now that I have a new creative outlet for the whirling and swirling babbling blah blah blah in my head the insomnia will feel like I am cheating on it and do the leaving...we'll see.
Until next time,
sleep sweet!
So that's what me and my insomnia do--whirl and twirl with the thoughts in my head. I had a friend who recently told me I should break up with my insomnia. Unfortunately when I tried to tell it that our 10+ year relationship was over it just gave me the cold shoulder. So, here I am creating a blog and trying to get some of those thought on--well not paper, but you know what I mean. Hopefully now that I have a new creative outlet for the whirling and swirling babbling blah blah blah in my head the insomnia will feel like I am cheating on it and do the leaving...we'll see.
Until next time,
sleep sweet!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)