Happy 23rd Anniversary to My One and Only

So the truth is, I never meant to fall in love. Not in happily-ever-after-till-death-do-us-part love, anyway. I had this idea, at the ripe old age of 18, that a woman didn’t need marriage… didn’t need a man… didn’t need any relationship that might stand in the way of a career and an exciting, fun-filled live of travel and accomplishment. It’s funny how I still believe that, yet I’m glad I found mine. Whatever the hurdles, the trial and error, the ups and downs, I would spend the last 23 years the very same way if given the chance.

I didn’t think of him as “the one” for several years. Certainly not the summer we met. He was fun. He was new and exciting. With him, I had a voice I was not accustomed to using, except perhaps at the tail end of parties, when I was past drunk and still upright and the mood of adolescent debauchery had turned philosophical. We talked about things; ideas that were deep and wide and it was nice that it didn’t require an abundance of alcohol to get myself to speak my thoughts out loud as words. 

I liked that about him. 

Being with him was a little bit like doing drugs… all of the buzz, none of the day-after hangover.

I didn’t think of him as “the one” those first few years… weekend drives between two colleges, countless letters written on spiral notebook paper, our first apartment together in Lawrence… somewhere along the line we decided to get married. I loved him. At least per my limited understanding of love at the time. It seemed the practical thing to do, get married. It assured our future together in some very real and tangible ways and that somehow frightened me less than the idea of us growing in different directions and eventually apart. We were moving forward, most definitely, as a couple, rather than as two individuals who just happened to enjoy spending time together.

I’m not even sure I thought of him as “the one” when we got married on December 29, 1990. It was the coldest day in Dodge City, Kansas in something like 50 years. I don’t remember much about the cold. Only that it is the first thing people talked about for many years when they talked about our wedding. Several family members did not make it to the event. It was that kind of cold; the kind of where cars wouldn’t start and people were afraid of being stranded, even for short road trips, because of the deepness of the chill. 

The sky is blue in our wedding photographs. The ground is white, but not freshly so. The oreos were stuck to the windshield of our car so solidly that they required multiple blasts from a carwash hose on the way to Wichita to clear the window enough that we could see. We added ice, but at least we had visibility.

The whole experience of meeting him and falling in love and getting married a short two and a half years later still feels like something of an out-of-body experience for me. The wedding, especially; I was never a center-stage kind of girl. I never dreamed of tiaras and princess gowns and spotlights. I was still operating under the assumption that I should do what was expected of me. I grew past that, eventually. We both did. And I have to give him at least half the credit for what we’ve become. 

Authentic. Real. Both perfect and imperfect in our made-for-each-other ways. Yin and yang in some respects; oil and water in others. 

Ultimately, we have both grown stronger in our visions of ourselves, both individually and together, and after 23 years the fact that we are still speaking—still each other’s first choice for company and entertainment— would seem to be a good sign. 

Sometimes, looking back on my life with him, it feels more like we blundered into a relationship and were just lucky it turned out to be a good thing. We grew up together, in many ways. We had disagreements. We made some mistakes. Hell, we are likely still making new ones.

More often I think of it in terms of what we deserve, because we worked for it. Some days it came easy; some days it felt like a never-ending chore, this act of living together in happiness and harmony.

Somewhere along the line—likely years after marrying him, believe it or not—I decided he was “the one” and I guess he must have made that decision, too. Perhaps earlier than me. I really couldn’t say for sure. But the commitment that feels real and binding was made long after the out-of-body-experience of the early years of our dating and eventual marriage had taken place. My memories of us as a couple at some point grow more solid.

The fairy tale divisions that made up my understanding of a modern woman versus my mother’s generation had blurred by then and I understood that we were building our own life to be what we wanted it to be.

I was never one to dwell on doubts, but was always well aware that I had choices. And the fact was that I kept choosing him, over and over again. One might think that after 23 years it’s simply habit. But I think it is not. It remains a choice. And I pick him again, to be “the one”… and only.

Let’s see where the next 23 years takes us, Bubs.

published also at www.TracyMillionSimmons.com

If I were a Gardener

I come from people who find solace when shaping the earth. My father farmed for many years. When he gave up farming, his garden grew greener and larger. My mother grew flowers and carved fish ponds. She created outdoor living areas complete with seating, scenery and often an abundance of butterflies. Both of my brothers show this trait (or combined with their spouses, they do) of merging living space with nature so that the living space of their homes spill effortlessly out into their yards. My sister, as well, brings her yard indoors to an attached greenhouse on her home. It is one of the most peaceful, beautiful places I know.

This gene... this skill... seems to have missed me completely. I've lived six years in a house that I selected for it's roomy/empty three lots and have managed one small strawberry bed (I can't even take credit for that, it is my daughter's) and the addition of some hen and chicks and chocolate mint to the sadly managed flower garden that already existed just in front of the porch when we moved in. We had a fish pond for one summer that I filled in after discovering that the abundance of garter snakes were happily feeding on my fish.

With all this outdoor space, my preferred spot remains at the kitchen table, my back to the window or sometimes perched at a folding table in the living room. When I want to read, I will more often curl up in my bed with a book, even when the weather is perfect for being outdoors. Bringing the outdoors in, for me, entails opening up the windows and letting a box fan draw in a bit of fresh air for half a day once or twice in the springtime and maybe another couple of times in the fall.

My successful growing efforts currently include two very sad geraniums, a plant my son brought home that I do not know the name of, an amaryllis that my son once got for a present and a handful of plants at the office for which my husband probably deserves more credit for keeping alive than do I. I don't even want to admit to the number of fresh herb plants I have tried to grow and successfully neglected to the point of no return in the past couple of years. 

Since my son's attention has wandered through and past growing things for the time being, I find myself trying to come to terms with the fact that mine is a lawn that will probably always just be mowed. Permaculture and the various methods of low-maintenance gardening I've looked into over the years, for all the potential benefits, still require that at least a modicum of sustained, hands-on interest follow the reading about, planning for, and daydreaming that I tend to excel at where shaping my own soil is concerned. 

Late last week I had the opportunity to tour Arnold's Greenhouse, a gorgeous farm near here that has become a popular destination for hardcore gardeners. I was immediately inspired, and then almost as immediately began to feel a bit down and depressed. As much as I would love to have my mother's outdoor sitting areas, my father's food-producing gardens, and my the stamina, like my siblings, for ongoing efforts that result in places homey and green, I'm thinking it might be time for me to put away the to-do list that has to do with yard improvement.

My creative efforts are more successfully spent elsewhere. As much as I'd love to have a lovely yard, I guess I don't want it badly enough to make it happen... at least, for the time being.

This rose is a sort of antique, faded shade of pink. I'm not usually a fan of pink, but I liked this a lot. If I were to grow roses, this is a color I might choose. (photo from Arnold's Greenhouse, near LeRoy, KS)

Paint and Carpet

June marked our 5th anniversary in this house and in this town. On Friday morning I sat at the kitchen table looking at our stairwell. It had this nasty old carpet that was frayed. On a couple of steps it had come off altogether. The off-white paint was chipped and dirty. I realized how much I hated the way that stairwell looked and thought it probably made me just a little bit depressed each time I sat staring at it.

"You know," I said, "If we'd just repaint that stairwell and replace the carpet, it would look a whole lot better." 

Not only did everyone in the house agree, Munchkin #1 suggested it was a project we should start that very day. By Friday evening we had removed all the old carpet and repainted. My photos don't really do it justice, but I love the stairwell now. In fact, unlike many remodel projects, which leave me feeling at least the need for a year's recovery time before I begin the next room, this one has me itching to get out the paint and transform the remaining rooms in our house (those we have not already tackled).

Before: The stairs as they have looked for the last 5 years.

After: The walls are now Darjeeling (I would call them a kind of dark sage green).

The carpet has flecks of dark and light green, dark red and a kind of tan color. We painted the top of the stairs a color called Irony. It had a bit of a yellow look to it in the can, but really just looks clean and white once we got it on the walls. The girls redid the banister, as well. They sanded and stained it. I think I'm going to use the same color stain for the trim in the project room (at the bottom of the stairs) should I ever get around to putting trim up! 

Monster in the Back Yard

We recently figured out that we have poison ivy in the back yard... along the fence line. Not just a little bit, but a lot. Much of that huge tall greenery, in fact, that I've credited for being a bit of a buffer between us and the sounds of the train through the summer, is actually poison ivy.

I don't know why it took me so long to figure out. I've always known the "leaves of three" caution, but I've never been bothered by poison ivy and I guess never truly taken the time to identify it and recognize it. My friend, Sarah, showed it to me at the park (it is EVERYwhere) and I started getting a really bad feeling. Wow. That looks familiar. I think I might be cultivating it in my back yard...

... which answers so many questions... like why hubby keeps breaking out with those itchy little rash spots.

So thinking that hubby was obviously highly sensitive, and I was not, I decided I'd be the one to tackle the poison ivy. I consulted a number of sources including my sister (who is my expert on everything green) and a good friend I knew had also been working to rid her yard of the stuff. I decided this would be one case where I would go straight for the chemicals. I hated the thought of doing it, but couldn't seem to find any alternatives for getting rid of it naturally, especially as large and wide-spread as our vines were. We had several ivy "trees" with origins a good two to three inches in diameter. 

I geared up with gloves and a disposable jacket and started cutting and ripping it out, spraying at the source as I went along. It was a long afternoon. Hot. Yuck. And I kept getting a gap between my glove and my jacket sleeve, which worried me a bit, but not enough to stop and so anything about it. Three days later I was disappointed to see that there looked to me just as much ivy in the fence line as ever. I mean, I could see where I'd made a dent or two, but there was still a whole heck of a lot there. I was going to have to tackle the fence on the neighbor's side, as well, to beat this monster. I was thrilled, however, three days later to only have one blister on the side of my arm. It was right where the gap between the coat and the gloves was and I thought... annoying, but manageable. By the end of that day, however, the blisters seemed to be spreading. By mid-day four I had about a 2x4 inch patch of nasty, blistery itchy stuff on my right arm and a few spots on my left arm.

To make a long story short, it got miserable. REALLY miserable. And about a week later, I got up one morning to see that my arm was getting red and hot from the ivy blisters at my wrist, heading down toward my elbow. It was hard to the touch and nothing I was using was even touching the burning/itching sensation. I figured the last thing I needed was a good old fashioned case of blood poisoning, so I went for the drugs.

Antibiotics had me feeling better about the state of my arm by the end of the day. After two days all the redness and swelling had gone down. I got to the end of my prednisone prescription yesterday. I'd never been on a steroid before and I have to say the constant wide-awakefulness and action-packed dreams are a little unsettling. It was worth it. The relief from the itching was definitely worth it. Kept me from gnawing my arm off in my sleep!

But now I have to admit that I'm a bit afraid of the monster in my back yard. It's large and my dent will do no good unless we follow up and master the stuff. I'm thinking, in the end, it may involve an entire removal of the fence and taking down all the trees and miscellaneous plants that are intermixed there. We've already had a conversation with the neighbor. He's going to be easy to get along with. He's game for whatever we decide to do.

In the meantime, I guess we move our play to the front yard. I mean, there's plenty of back yard space that is still completely usable, but now I get a creeping feeling just watching the kids out there. We've drawn a line in our yard -- don't cross it!

Methodical Enthusiasm

So when I last updated our room project, we had drywall up and we were trying to get the insulation blown into the rafters before the end of the year. I had this idea that I would get the room painted, but after the initial round covering the cracks in the drywall, I let my momentum stall and here I sit at the beginning of March with the room pretty much in the same condition it was in on December 31.

Late last week I finally started the ball rolling again. Instead of telling myself to get out the mud and get the room done, however, I've been taking the incremental approach. One day I did just the north wall (which is only about 3 feet high from the top of the patio doors to the ceiling. The next day I tackled two corner seams. It's slow going, but what is finished now looks great because I am taking my time and only focusing on one small part of the wall. As a bonus, I am not suffering from any back or neck aches like I usually get on this sort of project. This tall ceiling would be hell to tackle all at once, but I can manage it one seam at a time.

I think I will be painting by early next week. Then, if I am wise, I will go ahead and get some trim up, at least around the doors. I can already see where we have damaged the wall board. Wear marks show me the preferred places for leaning, at least.

"Methodical" is the color I have chosen for the walls. It's a pale green shade that I hope will hold the room's brightness. "Enthusiasm" is the creamy white color I have selected for the ceiling. I've selected a deep red/brown for the doors to the bathroom and kitchen which I also hope to get painted in this burst of house work.

Methodical Enthusiasm -- once I put the words together, I decided it describes my manner of taking on home improvement projects quite well. Or, at least, the manner it would be best for me to maintain. I keep finding myself standing in the middle of the kitchen, imagining how I could pull out this cabinet and move that cabinet, make a new spot here for the fridge and fix the old spot there in the corner...

One room at a time, I have to remind myself. Let's keep the enthusiasm methodical.

The Difference A Lockable Door Makes

We've had this rickety bathroom door handle since we bought this house three years ago. It was a little bent and difficult to lock and unlock. The screws were always working their way out so that the door handle was loose. It  was getting more and more difficult to get the door to latch, and even worse for unlatching. It was one of those situations where everyone in the family understood the process, but when company would come over they'd try to lock the door, and then be unable to unlock it. Or they'd try unsuccessfully to lock it, or even get it to latch, and they'd come out of the bathroom looking more stressed than when they went in.

A few weeks ago, the door starting somehow sliding into the locked position and we'd have difficulty getting it back open. We've never had the key. Twice this resulted in the removal of the hinges to get the door open, but family members had all learned that there was a certain twist of the wrist that would usually persuade the door to open again without the tools and muscle required to take the actual door off the hinges.

Anyway, it's one of those things that's gotten high on the list of items to fix, but I just never seemed to be able to make it home from the store with a replacement door handle. Finally, my list for the hardware store was up to three items, so I made a special trip to purchase everything. I brought the door handle home and handed it to my son and asked if he thought this was something he could take care of.

He's nine. He's extremely handy with tools, and he's taken it upon himself in the past year or so to keep the existing bathroom door handle functioning. It's been a hard job that has only gotten harder.

At first, he kind of gave me a look like, "Really? All by myself?" I just shrugged. I mean, obviously, I could do it, but I have such a good record of procrastination going regarding our bathroom door handle, why get ambitious now. He pulled out his screwdriver and got to work. He had to get a hammer, too, to pull out some nails that were embedded in the door jam in odd places.

I loved watching him work. He never even consulted me. Not one question. Not one need for assurance that things were going okay. He pulled the old handle out and examined it. He pulled the new one apart and put it together a few times. Once he was sure he knew how it worked, it got all the parts in place. He even replaced the catch on the door jam, which is something I probably wouldn't have bothered with. When he was done, he opened and shut the door a few times. He sent his sister in to lock it, then unlock it, then they traded places and did it again.

Eventually he came out and pumped his fist in the air saying, "That rocked!"

I went to test his work. It's amazing, the difference a solid handle makes on a bathroom door. You twist the handle, it opens. You pull it shut, it latches. You turn the lock, and people can no longer walk in on you. Surprise!

Oh maybe better said, no more surprises.

What's up? A ceiling, that's what...

It seems like my days have been filled with aborted blog attempts. I have at least a half-dozen drafts saved - activities and events keep drawing me away from the computer before I can assemble my thoughts.

Today the kids and I are fighting disappointment. Our plans have been cancelled due to weather and we have all retreated to our own corners of the house. The girls are reading books up in their room. Munchkin Boy is reading comics from the paper and playing SIMS on the computer. I'm thinking of baking. The smell of fresh bread sounds like a good way to cheer up on a snow day, even though we didn't get a whole lot of snow here. Mostly it's just cold. It's 10 degrees out right now. Brrr...

However, things are not nearly as chilled here as they could be. We were able to spend much of the weekend working on our project room. We now have four walls and a ceiling! Inuslating the attic is the next pahse of the project, but the walls and ceiling alone have already made an enormous difference. I'm not sure we would have survived the negative temps they are predicting without them.

Middle Munchkin has been documenting our efforts, so I thought I'd share her pictures. The room is not done, but we are so much closer!

Working on the south wall. This was kind of cool because we could see where the original doors and windows of the house were. Munchkin Boy wondered where the bathroom must have been, seeing that it is currently on the outside of what would have been the orignal house. So then we had imagine where the outhouse might have been, before the days of indoor plumbing.

The kids really enjoyed the tear-down portion. Munchkin Boy found swim goggles an excellent way to keep the dust out of the eyes.

I don't know how she managed to get so many pictures of me sitting there looking like I was doing nothing!

New light switch -- giving us a way to turn the lights on and off at both the bottom and the top of the stairs. We are really moving up in the world!

Putting up the ceiling. We now have a 9 foot ceiling on the southeast corner of the room. The northwest corner, however, only measures 103-3/4 inches!

This is the north wall after we had insulated it. The sliding glass doors are not ideally located, obviously. We love looking out here, but north is not the ideal location for such openess. We are still contemplating alternatives for better insulating this wall of the house, but this is a vast improvement over what we had... which was nothing.


Lots of mudding to be done, cracks to be filled. But we are very pleased with the results so far. Yep, I went ahead and hung the calendar because I am lost without it.

Another view. This gives you an idea of what we ended up with. This really isn't a very big room, but it sure has taken a long time to get this far. Of course, the wiring and electric are all new and VERY worth it. We love the lights and there will eventually be a ceiling fan in the middle of the room. Another few months and maybe I'll be able to show you pictures of the completed room with paint and all.

As Munchkin #1 has said, the cool thing is that we've done it all ourselves.

Tool Using Chimps

I learned a long time ago... but the information still comes to me like its new and fresh on occasion... that if you have a broken-y/needs-fix-it-y problem of any kind -- it is more easily done with the proper tools.

Tools are an investment worth making.

For instance, if you need to change the oil in your car, buy an oil wrench. Sure, you can pound a screwdriver in with a hammer and find a way to twist the darned oil filter off -- but life (at least if you are changing your oil) is so much easier with an oil wrench.

This weekend we invested in a sump pump. And life, this weekend, wasn't nearly as hellacious as I was prepared for it to be. A sump pump is a wonderful tool, I might even say a necessary tool if you have a basement (or pseudo basement such as ours).

I'm still looking forward to the visit from a professional plumber today, but because we were tool using chimps this weekend, at least I won't embarrass myself by flinging open the door and pouncing on him with glee when he arrives.

(Though... I still might tap dance and bake him cookies.)

At least I have cheesecake.

I was prepped and ready to sit down at the computer this evening and tell you all this little story about this sweet young couple I passed in the store this afternoon. They were holding hands. He was pushing the cart and she was leaning into him as they walked, both of them grinning -- obviously in love, or at the very least quite smitten with each other. They were talking and laughing, and as I watched, she grabbed a bag of cheetos off the shelf and tossed it in the basket. It was the only item they'd selected, so far, and she did this kind of happy dance as she grabbed the bag of cheetos. It made me smile.

When was the last time I felt such delight at a simple bag of cheetos?

More often, I'm weighing my options, trying to gauge how much money I have left to spend or contemplating what I can purchase that will feed a family of five healthy and nutritious meals for more than just a day or two. A few years of life under the belt and a once romantic little trip to the grocery store becomes something serious... a complicated mission... a chore full of weighty decisions and choices to be made.

Anyway, that's the story I was going to tell you.

But my daughter was headed to the shower about the time I was getting ready to tell you this story, and she came back complaining that the water wouldn't get hot.

"Of course, the water won't get hot," I'm thinking... "because hubby and I have been patting ourselves on the back for the things we've managed to accomplish with the house this past year and we've been outlining our plans for the house in the coming year... and plumbing was not exactly high on the agenda."

I was thinking total water heater failure, yet another appliance to be replaced.

Unfortunately, it was more along the lines of total sewer backup into the basement. Backup so deep that it doused the pilot light to our water heater and was creeping up on our brand new heat pump.

"Of course it's the sewer," I start thinking instead... "because it's a Saturday night and these kinds of things never happen when it's convenient to call in a plumber at regular rates."

A few phone calls later, we learn that Mr. Roto-Rooter can't help us out until Monday... afternoon.

So we mulled our options, went in search of a sump pump (I can't believe Wal-Mart doesn't carry sump pumps - they carry everything else!), and finally lined up the family brigade style to bail water from our basement (have I mentioned that my kids rock?).

It wasn't a lot of fun, but now we can keep the heater on tonight. No laundry, no dishes, no showers... until our little problem is fixed. I guess I'm always looking for an excuse not to do these things, at least, the laundry and dishes.

The good news (there's always good news, right?) is that while at the store today, I bought all the ingredients for my favorite--sinful--mocha chocolate chip cheesecake. I didn't quite dance with delight as I tossed the ingredients into the cart, but I certainly did a little dance as I was licking the bowl clean once the pie pans were filled.

I've got no hot water. The house is going to be a real mess by the time the roto-rooter guy comes (we were already behind on laundry). But hey... I have cheesecake.

Results of One Week of Mad Bathroom Remodeling

Not done, but much improved. One week ago this was still a view of exposed 2x4s. We've come a long, long way. The little stair step thing in the corner was my little inspiration. Now I'm thinking a tall, skinny green plant of some sort. No good light in the bathroom, so maybe not. I'll have have to consult my plant expert. The bit of mirror that you see on the left is still blue... the previous color (my first repaint of the bathroom when we moved, prior to replacing the floor and shower stall). That is on the list to repaint, as well. And we need to get the sides on the tub... and some grout... and a few more tiles... and something other than a towel over the window...



This picture is a little closer where you can see the texture to the walls. Munchkin #1 and I did that and the painting. I am very pleased at how this turned out and I'm pleased with my colors. I'm never pleased with colors. I think I'm a bit color impaired when it comes to things like walls. What I picture in my mind usually turns out a little too bright or bold on the walls. But this time I relied heavily on the advice of my daughters, both of whom seem to have an eye for color that I am lacking. None-the-less, I took this to the store calling it green. The woman who mixed the paint said, "There ain't nothing green about this color." So maybe it's an off white or tan... I'm not sure. I still see a hint of green.

Not Done, Near Done

Today was the BIG work day... even though the work has been happening all week. Yippee for Saturday since hubby was home and I could put him to work here! We accomplished a lot. Not quite as much as I was hoping for, but the bathroom does look drastically different this evening. It's far enough complete that I can see that it is going to be as pretty as I hoped.

Will I have "finished" pictures for you by Sunday? Probably not. I imagine it will still be lacking things like trim and other finishing touches. But hey, there's always Monday.

Today I learned why perfect squares of ceramic tile might not be the best choice for walls of a one hundred year old house. I imagine all houses are like this to an extent, but man oh man do we have some leaning, tilting, buldging walls. There's nothing straight about any of it. Which I guess worked out okay since I prefer to "eyeball" my work anyway. If it looks a little crooked, just tilt your head the other way.

Bathroom Progress Report: I Know you are Dying to Know

Crawling into bed on Tuesday, I was feeling rather smug about the bathroom progress. I was a full day ahead according to my schedule. Not intentionally, but because, as these things tend to happen, the bathtub drain decided to come loose and threatened to flood the crawl space beneath our house as we were prepping for bed.

The drain was a known problem. We've known since September that the wire we rigged at the last minute for support was not going to hold forever. In the spirit of doing this job right, we'd listed "get the bathtub drain properly supported" as a Wednesday task. But because the tub apparently has a mind of its own... and was impatient... I ended up in the crawl space below our house at 9:30 on Tuesday night.

Yuck!

When we first moved into this house and the plumber spent a full three hours in the crawl space, I had imagined a fairly open area. Sure, he was awfully dirty when he finally surfaced. But he was also a tall guy and since he seemed able to solve a number of our plumbing problems with relative ease (I never heard him cuss, not once!) I had assumed the space was ample for working in.

In September, of course, I was treated to my own up-close view of the crawl space. It's not pretty, and it's certainly NOT roomy. It's not that there are a lot of critters down there. I mean, maybe they are there, but all my cussing scares them away. (It's true -- put a wrench in my hand and I just can't help myself.) But my biggest issue was the space. The further you go, the more it closes in on you. You can't roll over to pick up what you dropped. You can't really reposition yourself, you've got to aim for the right spot to start with in this sort of on-your-back worm crawl. The first time I was down there I was pretty sure I was never going to come up again. We've devised a strategy that works pretty well, however. My son comes down in the hole, too. He stays where he can touch my legs and hands me tools and points an extra flashlight where it is needed. It makes all the difference, that bit of human contact.

So fixing the bathtub drain was not on the list until Wednesday, but we completed it Tuesday night. And since it was basically the only thing I had planned (I expected it to be much more difficult than it was, and my recovery from the experience to take much longer), I was an entire day ahead of schedule.

Now I get to work on Thursday's list, which I attempted to work on all day Wednesday, but barely managed to make a dent. Let's just say that things did not go as planned or as smoothly as I had hoped. Urgh.

I swear... I will have "after" photos to show you by Sunday, even if I have to give up sleep. And very soon I'm going to be inviting people over just to see my pretty bathroom.

Commencing Project Bathroom

... or should I say... recommencing?

Those of you who have been around a while know that we have suffered a few bathroom woes (and victories) since we've moved into this house. Luckily, I have my blog here to help me remember that it was back in September when we tore up our existing bathroom, successfully installed a new floor and a bathtub, and... well, that's kind of as far as we got. We suffered the winter with exposed 2x4s and a shower so barely functional that we've only used it half a dozen times.

Mutterings around these parts, however, have led to serious talks about the state of our bathroom. Hubby threatened to take some duct tape and chewing gum to it (or some such technique) and I stomped my feet and threw a bit ole' fit about that idea. After all, IF the bathroom (shower, in particular) were to become more truly functional, we'd NEVER actually finish the darned thing. We'd live here for 30 years with it looking exactly as it does right now. Only worse, because the unfinished floor would start to rot and the walls would start to crumble (even more).

So in short, we are, once again, on a mission. A day-by-day plan has been established. We've given ourselves one week to "finish" the bathroom. I purchased and/or rounded up most of the supplies today. If all goes well, we will have one darned good looking room in this old house by Sunday. Or, more likely, we will have at least a bathroom that is fully functional... without the use of duct tape or chewing gum.

One Bathroom

So I was listening to my friends talk about their bathrooms (that's with an S as in - multiple rooms with toilets and showers and stuff like that in them) the other day. I didn't think much about it until one friend leaned over to me and said, "Sometimes I feel so guilty when I think of my THREE bathrooms when..." (There are two people in her house.)

I had to laugh -- as well as rub it in a little. I'm not even sure we would qualify as having a complete bathroom at the moment, but we get by. I grew up in a family of six (two parents/four kids) and as far as I can tell we did just fine with one bathroom. My dad added a second bath (in my room, even!) when I was a senior in high school. It was a perk, I will admit. I can't decide if it was the threat of having two teenage girls in the house (we hosted a foreign exchange student that year) or if I was really that much more of a bathroom hog than my brothers and my sister were.

We looked at houses with multiple bathrooms when we moved here. We chose a big yard, instead. Is the extra space worth a lack of privacy in the privy? I'd have to say it is, though there are times I do wonder. Like the occasions when I've found myself waiting in line for the restroom and the door finally opens ... a lightening streak that resembles my youngest zips in and around those of us who don't move quite so fast. It's a small price to pay, I suppose. Waiting in line for the bathroom, or standing around a sink brushing your teeth, trying to coordinate your spitting with four other people.

One bathroom doesn't feel like a lot in this day and age. But one bathroom will do.

For now.

Home Improvements

Earlier this week we had the AC Specialist visiting our house. It was important, as our AC died toward the end of last summer and our heating bills, this winter, have been painfully large. So we opted to upgrade our whole heating and cooling system to something more efficient and, I believe, environmentally friendly. It’s the first second (the first was the bathroom floor) of a long list of home improvements we’ve been trying to prioritize and categorize (is it worth it or not) since moving into this house almost two years ago.

None-the-less, it doesn’t seem to be the change (so far) that has made the most difference in quality of life at our house. Last week, I broke down and bought a cordless phone system… not just one, but two handheld thingies where you speak and hear others speak (from far away, even!) without being physically tied to any single location in the house. I know it makes it sound like we must live in the dark ages. I mean, even my dad has had a cordless phone for something that can probably be measured in decades now.

Regardless, I finally put away our antiquated phone (okay… honestly, I was prompted to do so after it plunged off the desk to its death when I stepped two steps further from the phone than my spirally cord allowed)… and replaced it with something more modern and, erm... convenient.

In the week or so since living with the cordless phone, I’ve noticed a couple of things.

1 – All life does not cease when the phone rings…. or more aptly in our house, when someone chooses to answer it. Our old phone (due to strategically poor location) ringing resulted in the television having to be muted (if it was on), any activity being shushed or ushered into another room, and long periods of family members sighing and scuffing their feet while waiting for so-and-so to finish their conversation with whoever was on the phone.

2 – My pre-teen does, indeed, have the gift of gab. She’s never been much of a phone talker, and I’ve long suspected it was partly due to the lack of privacy on our centrally located phone. I was actually gone for the event, but I’ve heard more than one reference now to “oh yeah – that was when you were talking on the phone!” and she said to me last night, “Mom, that new phone is awesome!”

Bathroom Woes

So you may remember that it wasn’t too long ago I was bragging about my plumbing adventures. We replaced some water lines and repaired some leaks in another house. Then we took on the ONE bathroom in our own house. We removed a leaky shower, replaced some rotting floors, and put in a new bathtub/shower combination.

Well, as far as you know, that’s what we did.

Yesterday some friends were asking me about Halloween plans. Last year I had a party for the kids and it was great fun. I had in my head that we’d make it an annual event. This year, however, I managed to opt out. NOT because I don’t want to have a party. I love Halloween. It was fun making an entire day of it. But to be honest, I just don’t want people to see my bathroom.

It’s usable – there’s no doubt about that. There are no leaks. The toilet stands firmly on a solid floor. Unfortunately, my bathroom still very much has the appearance of being… under construction. Let’s just say it’s lacking some finishing touches… such as walls and floor covering… to start with.

The folks at Delta Faucets say that bathrooms are the most used room in the home. “Not only will you and your family spend a considerable amount of time in your bathroom over the course of its lifetime, but virtually every guest that enters your home will visit it as well. Create a beautiful room that you’re comfortable in and you would be happy to have guests use.”

Sigh.

I’m pretty sure they were thinking of me when they wrote that.

I’ve been browsing their website (salivating, in fact), envisioning all the ways I can make my bathroom beautiful. Want to help me shop? I am in love with their selection of vanities. I almost wish I had three or four bathrooms to decorate.

How about we say there is going to be a Halloween party at my house next year. I’m going to dedicate myself to putting together a bathroom worthy of all my wonderful guests.

Just call me Plumber

There's nothing like getting up close and personal with the plumbing to make one feel like a committed home owner.

Or perhaps... a home owner that ought to be committed.

Even though I had said it would be a couple of months, Saturday somehow got penciled in as "the big day" when our family would have a bath tub again. Since we are a one bathroom household, we knew from the beginning we'd have to plan carefully. It wasn't a project we could stop in the middle of since it first involved tearing up about 3/4 of the bathroom floor (rotting from water leaks we can blame on the previous owners) and replacing and reinforcing it (the floor that was there was extremely thin - 5/8 inch. This meant removing the old shower, sink, and toilet. Then we removed the offending plywood floor, replumbed for the bathtub, replaced the floor, and finally installed the bathtub and reinstalled the toilet.

It's true... I may have missed my calling.

We went from tear down to back up and functioning in under 16 hours. A long day of work, for sure, but lots of satisfaction in having done it ourselves.

I rather enjoyed myself and I'm now on to the dreaming about finishing touches stage. I still need to pick a replacement sink. The shower part is kind of rigged for the moment, but the solid floor sure feels good under the feet. I didn't realize just how bouncy the old one was until I go in there now and -- hey! I'm not bouncing!

Then there will be tile and paint and a new window. I think we will be calling our favorite electrician in to help with some wiring needs. As hubby says, if you screw up the plumbing, you just get wet. Bad wiring might be a whole nother level of bad. None-the-less... I've been reviewing a how-to-wire book my dad gave me...

Backyard Ponds

My brother knows a thing or two about backyard ponds...


This visit, I took the opportunity to ask lots of questions and I even took notes. Visions of bigger and better than this year's trial dance in my head.

Worse case, I'll have fatter and happier snakes in the yard.

Plumbing Story: Continued

Completing our plumbing project this morning took very little time. Hubby remarked that we had definitely gained confidence, if not skill. We glued it all together and then completed various other weekend tasks while giving everything time to set up good and hard. We went back this evening with fingers crossed.

First, let me say that our handywork sure looked pretty. I almost wish I'd taken pictures. We turned on the water.

In the beginning we had seven leaks. I wish I could tell you we are now down to zero. However, it seems that we are left at two. One is where our work meets the old, original plumbing. I guess in taking it all out and starting over again, we didn't quite go far enough. The other is kind of a puzzle to me.

I've heard from more experienced plumbers that Gorilla Glue is handy for all that ails you. Perhaps that's the route we shall try next.

Plumbing Story: Perhaps the First of Multiple Installments

So hubby and I have had this plumbing issue kind of hanging over our heads. It's one of those pesky little issues you would love to ignore, and ignoring it works as long as you can keep from reminding yourself that you are paying for it in the long run. We had one of these in our house in Topeka. It was a minor leak under the sink. When we moved in, I fixed it and refixed it. I bought new pieces. I bought new washers. After about a week of fussing with it I put a bucket under the sink and just dumped it every time it got full. It was a little leak. Easy to ignore.

As we were prepping to sell that house, I decided I was going to fix that leak once and for all. I went through the entire process of taking it apart and putting it back together, sometimes switching this piece for that, or that piece for this. We didn't have use of the kitchen sink for three days. I finally called Pat the Plumber (he was a good guy, I might as well give him some props). It was infuriating that I couldn't fix that simple little leak myself. But there's only so much time you can spend cussing at it and, unfortunately, cussing doesn't fix a leak.

When the Pat came, I told him I was going to watch over his shoulder to see how he fixed it. "Sure," he said. "Do you mind if I just cut the whole thing out and start over?"

And that's what he did. He cut the entire under the sink drainage system out and replaced it with all new. No fussing with the one joint that insisted on leaking. He just made a whole new plan.

Lesson learned.

By I've gotten sidetracked. This current problem has been around for... a little over two months now. It's not our house, but an investment place. More than once hubby and I have gone over there, stood with our heads together looking at it... and left again. We've discussed the merits of calling a plumber. We keep coming back to doing it ourselves... mostly because we really can't afford a plumber... and a plumber would see the obvious problems, plus a dozen more that we probably really don't want to know about.

Here's the thing. I come from a family of extremely competent and talented individuals. My brothers and my dad, they can and do build everything. I grew up watching plumbing get plumbed, wiring get wired... room additions, new roofs, entire houses. It seems like there was always something getting built or fixed in our house. And you know what? My mom could handle a power tool, as well. I consider my sister more of a growing things goddess, but she's never been afraid to dive in and get her hands dirty, as well.

So I look at this problem--a leak and another leak that is causing damage to the floor in the bathroom--and I think it's really something I should be able to handle myself. I've watched stuff like this get fixed dozens of times. Yet, it was pretty easy for me to find excuses to do something else.

Well this morning I ran out of excuses. With the words of Pat the Plumber echoing in my head, I tackled the problem with a saw.

Step 1: Cut the problem area out.

Once I got over my initial hesitation, it was kind of fun. I basically redesigned (just a tiny bit) the problem area until it looked more like something that might be (fingers crossed) NOT leaky. Only took one trip to the hardware store to get all the right replacment pieces!

Step 2: Tackle problem area #2.

We started out thinking this next part would be easy after what we had just accomplished. Our one leak in a short area of pipe, however, turned out to be four rather major leaks in about 20 feet of pipe. So the demolition part grew, and after two trips to the hardware store, we still don't have the puzzle put together quite right. I am filled with new confidence, however. Exhausted, but happy that I made it through the day with relatively little cussing.

I'll let you know what happens when we actually get the water turned back on.