Name::The Gradual GardenerFrom::New England, United States
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The Gradual Gardener
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
It's About Time
A long time ago (in a galaxy far, far away), I asked my husband to take me out to dinner. His excuse? That we never seem to have the time. Since it's winter, and we're both home ALL THE TIME, I found his reasoning a little lacking. So, I suggested that the next time he finds the TIME to get together with his friends, he skip it and we go out to dinner instead. This was on Saturday afternoon. Saturday afternoon, one week prior to Super Bowl Sunday. Super Bowl Sunday, the day he always goes to a Super Bowl party at his friend's house. A BIG Super Bowl party.
Guess where I went Saturday night?
Really, I shouldn't be too hard on him. One of the things the head injury stole from him was his sense of taste and smell, so going to a restaurant is just not as much fun for him as it used to be. But sometimes you just have to make sacrifices to make your wife happy, right?
Our dinner out was very nice, by the way!
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 9:04 AM :: 7 Comments: 
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Monday, January 30, 2006
Viewing The Generation Gap
When my mother showed up at 6:08 this morning to drop off the puppy, she handed me a little plastic box that looked vaguely familiar. At first I thought it was a receipe box, but when I opened the lid I was surprised...It was our old View-Master set! It seems she came across it while cleaning, and thought my daughter might like it. Since Don't-Talk-To-Me-Before-Dawn-Daughter was not conscious enough to appreciate it at the time, I decided not to share it until she was a tad less groggy. So after school, once she dragged her backpack into the house and flung herself on the sofa, I showed it to her. The conversation went something like this:
Me: (holding up the red plastic View-finder): "Look what Bammy brought over."
Daughter: "What is it?"
Me: "It's a View-finder. You used to have one when you were little."
Daughter: Blank stare.
Me: "This one has all the sets I had when I was a kid. Look, there's Peanuts, and Woody Woodpecker, Tom and Jerry, and One Hundred And One Dalmations..."
Daughter: "I don't know what peanuts are."
Me: "Yes, you do. Charlie Brown."
Daughter: "Oh."
Me: "And there's Bonanza, and another Bonanza, and Raggedy Ann, and Aesop's Fables, Bambi, and Mother Goose Rhymes, and Grimm's Fairy Tales..."
Daughter: "What is e-sop?"
Me: "You know. They're stories. Like the Grasshopper and the Ants. And the Town Mouse and the Country Mouse."
Daughter: Blank stare.
Me: "The Tortise and the Hare?"
Daughter: "Like folk stories?"
Me: "Yeah, but they all taught a lesson. Aesop was the guy who wrote them."
Daughter: "Oh."
Silence.
Daughter: "Who is grim?"
Clearly I have failed as a parent, because it seems I did not teach this child anything.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 3:39 PM :: 3 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Wax On, Wax Off...
I got my car back today. Hooray! I've been driving a rental since Monday, when mine went it for repairs. The rental was a 2006 Dodge Stratus, which was fun to drive at first, since it's not that often I get to drive a new car. But even though my car eats gas, and is not new, I missed it. Especially the heated mirrors...It's a real pain to scrape ice off mirrors. It smells like paint, though, so even though it's January the car is now sitting in the driveway with all the windows open. Always good to give the neighbors something new to wonder about!
When he handed me the keys, the guy at the body shop said "Now be sure you don't wax it for at least two months." Um, thanks for the advice, but, uh, the last time it was waxed was, um, before I bought it. So I don't think that will be a problem.
Oh, and my pet peeve of the day? Gas stations with broken credit card machines. Seriously, if you want my business, you need to fix your equipment, because I'd rather drive to another station than go inside. Yes, I'm that lazy.
My second pet peeve of the day? Gas staions right up the street from those with broken credit card machines, that are closed at 8:04am on a Saturday. 8:04am! Even my bank is open by then!
Third pet peeve of the day? Rental cars that are given to you with 7/8 of a tank of gas. You have to return it with the same amount, or they charge you some ridiculous amount per gallon for whatever you're short. So you have to wait until you're almost there to fill up. What if the only gas stations near the return location are owned by jerks who sleep late and don't fix broken machinery?
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 1:29 PM :: 3 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Friday, January 27, 2006
It Ain't Easy Eating Greens
Okay, so this whole eating healthy thing?
It sucks.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 7:52 AM :: 6 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Seven Days, Six Trips To The Doctor
This week's theme has definitely been waiting. Specifically, waiting in Waiting Rooms. Since last Friday, I have visited five waiting rooms (one of them twice), and I will be in another this afternoon. So, for lack of anything better to write about today, and since I am now an expert on Waiting Rooms, I will describe them for you.
The first trip to the doctor took place Friday night, when Likes-To-Kiss-Frogs-Daughter had a wart removed from her foot. The pediatrician office is in a converted colonial, and the Waiting Room is what used to be the living room (complete with painted red brick fireplace, which glows all year long with its flickering electric fire). Most of the room is taken up by a large metal desk, behind which are file cabinets. On the desk is a phone, and a rolodex. That's it. They do not own a computer. The remaining walls are lined with plastic chairs, placed so close together that it is impossible to sit in one without touching at least four people...The parents on either side of you, and the squirming toddlers they're holding. In the corner is a little end table covered with beat-up Golden Books, and there are a few milk cartons under the chairs, containing the same sad toys my daughter played with thirteen years ago. The room has imitation wood paneling, and behind each chair is a grease spot from where people rest their heads. I do not rest my head.
Saturday morning was our second trip, back to visit the Pediatrician to have the dressing changed. Newly-Wartless-Daughter did fine, by the way. The novocaine was painful, but by the 3rd shot she couldn't feel them anymore. She has a wonderful pediatrician, which is why we go there despite the sad state of the waiting room.
Tuesday afternoon was my third trip to the doctor, this time alone, to my gynecologist for my "annual exam." I can't tell you much about that waiting room, though, because my mind has a self-defense mechanism that causes me to block out all details of my visits there as soon as I step off the elevator into the lobby.
Wednesday I headed off to an Internist to find out why my back & leg have been hurting for three weeks. I had the luxury of enjoying two separate waiting rooms there, one when I first came in, and another before I could leave (the medical assistant who needed to "check me out" had gone on break). I barely noticed the first waiting room, because I was filling out five pages of forms detailing everything from my family's medical history to whether or not I drink tea. The room I spent ten minutes in while waiting to leave, though, was nice enough, except that there was no reading material whatsoever, so I spent the whole time learning the codes on the form the doctor gave me to pass along to her medical assistant. Anyone want to know what GCDNA means? (Gonnorrhea, DNA probe...Fortunately that was NOT checked off for me)
Since the Internist believes I probably did "something" to my sciatica nerve (coincidentally, the leg pain started right after the car accident), she sent me off for X-rays. Sciatica nerve problems rarely shows up on X-rays, but apparently the insurance company does not pay for MRIs until an Xray is ordered (don't even get me started on that-Insurance will be a different rant). So, the next office I got to visit was the diagnostic place. This Waiting Room had four magazines, and six people waiting (fortunately not all were reading). The only one I had any interest in at all was U.S. News & World Report, but that was already taken. So I contented myself with a Parents magazine from October 2005, all the while casting furtive glances at the guy with U.S. News. His name was finally called, so I casually waited three or four seconds, then jumped up to grab his discarded magazine, and immediately heard my name. So although I didn't get to read about how Dick Cheney's a "Tough Guy", I can give you great advice on how to plan a Halloween party for a four-year-old. Too bad my daughter's fourteen.
A side note for family who may be reading this: Don't worry, I doubt I'll need an MRI. That's only if the pain doesn't go away after awhile...I expect mine will. The only reason I went to the doctor at all was to make sure it wasn't something more severe, like an ovary. Muscle & nerve stuff I can live with.
Today's visit will be for my daughter, to the Orthodontist. This is also a converted house, but it's a beautiful Victorian, and the waiting room is circular. The magazines they have there tend to be about teeth, but that's okay, because they have something better than a magazine...They have a puppy. I think every waiting room should have a puppy. It makes the time go by very fast. You have to be careful where you put your purse, though, because he does have a tendency to steal things out of them.
So, that's my week. I'll bet yours wasn't any where near as fun!
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 10:06 AM :: 5 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
And the Award For Most Likely To Succeed Goes To...
Shrinking Violet posed an interesting question on her blog yesterday...What would you change if you were a dictator? I started a comment, but it turned out so long I figured it deserved its own post.
See, there are quite a few people out there who seem to work in a field that is unsuited for them. So, my first task as dictator would be to help them out by orchestrating a few career changes.
George W. Bush would be in the military. Not a position of any importance, since we can't have him endangering our troops with his ineptitude. I'm not from a military family, so I don't know the proper terminology, but isn't there some sort of "scout" position? You know, someone who goes into a dangerous area first, to make sure it's safe? I would give him that job. Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld could join him.
Cindy Sheehan would have Donald Rumsfeld's old job.
Brannon Chandler, and all other animal abusers, would have jobs cleaning out zoo exhibits. Specifically, the elephant exhibit.
Paris Hilton would work in a large factory. It's not that I'm wishing her ill; she doesn't need to be cleaning toilets or anything. It's just that I think the girl who's "famous for being famous" and always has her nose in the air should spend some time in a place where she's just a number. I think it would do her good.
Jon Stewart would be president.
The spouses of coal miners would be guaranteed a spot on the board that supervises mine safety. If anyone will make sure everything possible is done to avoid another tragedy, they will. And they would have unlimited resources to do what needs to be done (taken directly from the coal companies' profits).
Since Tom Crusie has such a problem with psychology, my first inclination was to make him a psychiatrist. I decided that would probably be pretty harmful to his patients, though, so instead I'd make him a lunatic nutjob badly in need of a psychiatrist...Oh, wait, he already is.
Can you think anyone else in need of a career change?
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 11:13 AM :: 9 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
I'm Just Sitting Here Watching The Water Spin Round & Round
Sammy has discovered the toilet.
The sound of flushing brings him racing from whatever activity he's engaged in, whether it be playing soccer with the dog food or making sure the puppy does not nap too long (by attaching himself, via claws, to her face and repeated biting her neck), so he can leap up on the seat and watch the bowl fill up with water. So far, he's been successful at stopping himself on the very edge of the rim and not vaulting into the toilet itself, but the bigger he gets, the harder that will be to pull off.
He's also figured out that the edge of the bathtub, between the shower curtain & liner, is a great place to hide and attack the unsuspecting as they are sitting down to "do their business." There's nothing like a claw in a bare leg to make you speed up the process, which also, of course, shortens the time he has to wait until flushing commences again.
If you're fortunate enough to use the bathroom without his assistance, he will wait outside the door, and as soon as you open it there will be a blur of black fur as he darts past. Depending on how quick your reflexes are, this may or may not result in you laying sprawled out on the floor, half in the bathroom and half in the hallway, muttering curses under your breath.
Does anyone know where I can get a "Use At Your Own Risk" sign for my bathroom?
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 7:48 AM :: 6 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Blogging For Choice
I was all set to write a post today about how my daughter went to a birthday party last night, and at 10:30pm called and said they were having too much fun to end the party, but everyone else's parents said no to a sleep-over, so please, please, PLEASE could they move the party here? So even though we had no junkfood in the house they all showed up with sleeping bags and half-full bottles of soda, and proceeded to play Dance Dance Revolution right above my head until ungodly hours. That's what I was going to write about. Then I read TB's blog and realized I had a more important entry to write.
Today is the 33rd anniversary of Roe vs. Wade. There's a group out there called Blog For Choice who is asking all bloggers who support the right to choose to write about it today. So even though I can't figure out how to add the graphic to my webpage, which would make me a official participant, I'm going to write about it anyway.
First off, let's get the terminology correct. It seems to me many people confuse the word pro-choice with pro-abortion. To my knowledge, there isn't any group out there who encourages women to go out and have an abortion. Pro-choice groups are not lying in wait outside OB/GYN offices, so that they can intercept pregnant mothers and convince them to abort their babies.
I know several women who have had abortions. One was a friend in high school who was much too young. Two were women who were very early into relationships with men they later married and had children with. Another was a woman facing the inevitable end of her marriage and the prospect of adding an infant to the family she knew she would be single-parenting. None of these women made the decision lightly; all agonized over it, cried until they had no tears left, and in the end made the decision they felt they needed to. Those I'm still in touch with tell me they still think about it today.
If the teenager had chosen to have her baby, would she have given it up for adoption, or would she have ended up on the very difficult road of single-parenting without the means to support herself? The women who were early in their relationships, would they still have married, or would a baby have put too much of a strain on a still-forming foundation? And the woman in the midst of a divorce, whose older children were already struggling, would she have been able give all of them the support they needed with the demands a new baby makes?
I was twenty when I had my daughter. Her father and I had been dating for three years when I got pregnant. We married when she was three years old, and are still together today. I chose to have my child, and although at times it was a very difficult path, it worked out for me. Maybe it would have worked out for these other women too. Maybe it wouldn't have. The bottom line line is, it was their choice to make.
How we form our relationships, how we raise our families, how we live our lives...These are our choices. The government doesn't have any place in that.
Are there woman who abuse it, using abortion as a form of birth control? Of course there are. But there is also the scared teenager who got in over her head, the young woman who knows she's not emotionally or financially ready to raise a child, the mother who can only think about how this will affect her children who are already struggling. And, of course, there are the rape victims. We cannot punish the abusers by denying abortion to everyone, any more than we can punish those who commit welfare fraud by denying help to needy families who have fallen on hard times.
I know, this brings us to the argument that you should not have sex unless you are able to handle the consequences. But think realistically, my friends. Despite all the Catholic Church's ramblings, sex is not for pro-creation only, and I don't know a single person who looks at it that way. And I would be willing to bet that most of us, at one time or another, have had sex at a time that it would have been very difficult to handle a pregnancy, if that were the outcome. If it had been, some of us would have chosen to have the child anyway, and some would not. The important thing is the choice. And as for consequences, there are consequences either way. Abortion is not the easy way out, the "get out of jail free card" that many people think it is. It is terrible, heart-wrenching, and most women who have one will live with the consequences for many years to come, long after a child would have grown up and moved away.
It is very easy to judge other people, and the way we think they should behave. But that doesn't mean we should.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 5:53 PM :: 5 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Friday, January 20, 2006
Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys
Every summer, my mother, my daughter, and I go on a "girl's trip." It's always somewhere relatively close by, since we only go for 2-3 nights and don't want to spend half the trip driving. Previous locations have included Stowe, VT, North Conway, NH, and Salem, MA.
One year, in searching for a new destination, my mother came across an advertisement for a dude ranch. It sounded interesting, so she sent for more information. A week or so later she received a packet in the mail, with a brochure and registration forms. The brochure featured several black & white photos, including one of the couple who own the ranch, decked out in plaid shirts and cowboy hats. It boasted that the ranch "combines modern amenities with true country flavor to offer guests a memorable experience complete with horseback riding adventures led by experienced wranglers", and encouraged guests to choose "trail names" for themselves. The package included all meals and two trail-rides a day. There were also canoe rides, a game room for the kids, including a stage and karaoke machine, and a hot tub.
Sounds fun, right?
So we filled out our forms and sent them in, along with the non-refundable fee, paid in advance. Since the ranch would be providing the meals "family-style", if you had any special dietary needs they asked that you list that on your form, so they could accommodate you. My mother doesn't eat red meat, so she made sure to make a note of that. We picked our trail-names (I was going to be "Tumbleweed"), and looked forward to the trip with excitement. The ranch stressed that they would cater to all abilities, from expert-riders to novices, but we arranged a few horseback-riding lessons in advance for my daughter anyway, to give her a little more confidence. She was probably about eight or nine at the time.
So, the big day came, and we packed up the car and headed off to the ranch. And, well, let's just say the brochure was a little...Misleading.
The exterior of the place was more than a little run-down. It consisted of a number of old buildings, badly in need of paint, strung together in a L-shape. We actually considered leaving without even going inside, and just finding a different hotel. But, we figured, how bad can it be? It was only two nights, which we'd already paid for(non-refundable, remember?). So we headed inside.
Mrs. Dude Ranch greeted us at the door, and we could see right away that she was the same woman from the photo, plus thirty years (maybe forty). She had traded in her plaid for polyester, and there wasn't a cowboy hat in the place. In fact, when she led us to our room across the thick shag carpeting, it quickly became clear that nothing at all in the place had been updated since sometime in the seventies. If then. The shag carpet was dark-brown, although I'm not sure if that was its original color or just years of accumulated grime. Our room was supposed to have three beds, two twins and a double. Well, it had three beds all right. Only problem was, one of them only had three legs. There was a shared bathroom down the hall, with no lock on the door. The game room was the garage, which was filled with clutter like you wouldn't believe, along with dusty copies of "Clue" and "Risk". There was a section with a wood floor that probably served as a stage at one time, but now was home to an old, run-down sofa and several mismatched chairs. The game room was also where they served us our dinner of roast-beef, potatoes cooked in beef juices, and salad (so much for no red meat).
Ok, so there's still the riding, right? Right. The "experienced wranglers" consisted of their 12-year-old-granddaughter with a severe attitude problem, who was home-schooled so that she could pop on over whenever Granny & Grampa needed her, and...Oh, that's right, there was just her. And the trails? There were no trails. She led us through thick brush, no trail in sight.
Well, what about the canoeing, you say? Actually the canoeing was the best part of the trip. The lake was about a mile from the ranch, so Mr. Dude Ranch drove the canoe there and we followed in our car. He forgot the life preservers, though, so he said he would go get them and bring them right back. Twenty minutes later when I drove to the ranch, he was watching TV. The actual time spent on the lake was very nice, though.
And the hot tub? It was ok, I guess, but it was in Mr. & Mrs. Dude Ranch's part of the house, (what looked like their dining room, actually) and using it meant traipsing back across the shag rug barefoot. So we used only used it once.
As for the trail names, nobody ever asked them. In fact I don't think they called us by any name. We had a few for them, though.
I know you're all anxious to go visit the dude ranch now, but sadly, it's no longer in business. I can't imagine why.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 9:52 AM :: 8 Comments: ---------------------------------------
A Post For The Tulip-Challenged Among Us
Sorry guys, I have no idea how to make it so everyone can see the tulips. So for anyone who can't see them at the top of the screen, this is what they look like (hopefully you can see them here):The only difference is that on the masthead, text boxes cover up the dying daffodils in the front of the picture. So if you'll feeling the winter doldrums and need a "spring-fix", you'll have to look up this post, at least until I become more technologically advanced. Of course, since that's not likely to happen until "hell freezes over", there may not be any tulips to view then.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 9:41 AM :: 3 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Survey Says...
It's come to my attention that my template-creating abilities are not as good as I thought they were. At least one person isn't able to view the tulip-masthead. I have absolutely no idea what to do to correct this, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe the tulips aren't there at all, and I just wanted them to be there so badly that I invented them in my head (it wouldn't be the first time).
So I need to ask, how many of you out there can see the tulips?
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 4:51 PM :: 12 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Add Me To The List
Ok, so I've been tagged by Tink to do my first me-me. Before you start reading, though, I need to warn you that the answers aren't all that interesting.
Four jobs I've had:
1. Handing out programs at football games (my first job, when I was 9 or 10)
2. Insurance (Ugh!)
3. Taking care of plants at malls & office buildings. One of the malls I worked in had tiered planters running up along the escalators. I would have to shut off the escalator, hop the rail and climb up and down the planters with my hose to water the plants. The planters were granite, which gets pretty slippery when it's wet, so it was always a challenge not to end up in the food court 20 feet below. Also, you know the trees in malls? They get really dusty. To "dust" them, you grab the trunk with both hands and shake as hard as you can, raining dust & leaves all over the floor (and you). I would go home filthy.
4. Designing, planting & maintaining flower beds at office buildings (my current job).
Four movies I could watch over & over:
1. Monty Python & The Holy Grail
2. Ever After
3. Pleasantville
4. Raiders of the Lost Ark
Four places I've lived:
1. A little tiny two-bedroom house. This was the first house my parents owned. My dad made us a dollhouse that was an exact replica of it.
2. A big white colonial. My bedroom had a slanted ceiling, which I painted ducks on when I was a teenager (I doubt the ducks are still there). The house had a detached garage, and I had great plans to turn the garage into an apartment. I would make a loft for my bedroom, but I wouldn't have a bed; I'd just spread stuffed animals all over the floor and sleep on them. Funny how that doesn't sound as comfortable to me now as I thought it would be back then.
3. The second floor of a two-family house. The prior tenants were careless with cigarettes, so the house caught fire. We were the first people to live there after it burned (well, after it was repaired, anyway).
4. A little tiny two-bedroom house (where I live now). I guess things have come full-circle!
Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. Lost
2. Desperate Housewives
3. The Daily Show
4. Who's Line Is It Anyway?
Four favorite books:
1. Harry Potter (the whole series; I can't pick a favorite)
2. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
3. Bridget Jone's Diary by Helen Fielding
4. Songs of The Humpback Whale by Jodi Picoult
Four places I've been to on vacation:
1. Disney World (8th grade class trip)
2. Washington D.C.
3. Vermont
4. Boston
Four websites I visit daily:
1. This one
2. Everyone on my blogroll
3. Go Fug Yourself (a couple of times a week)
4. The Onion (on Wednesdays, when they update)
Four favorite foods:
1. Fresh-baked bread
2. Cheese
3. Shrimp
4. Cheesecake
Four places I'd rather be right now:
1. In the garden (preferably on a day when it's not raining quite so hard)
2. On a boat (again, on a day with slightly less rain)
3. Curled up in front of the fireplace with a good book (perfect for a day like today)
4. Reading someone else's me-me, instead of writing my own!
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 11:35 AM :: 6 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
It's Kind Of Like Eating Spagettio's As An Adult...Just Not The Same
Not too long ago, my daughter discovered Molly Ringwald. She'd come across The Breakfast Club a couple of times on TV, and since she liked it, we rented Sixteen Candles. Both were good movies. Not Oscar-worthy, but good. So yesterday, when Hubby was out and we decided it was a good time to watch a "chick-flick", we put in Pretty In Pink.
I didn't remember much of Pretty In Pink, except that it had the same basic plot as every other teen 80's movie: guy & girl totally unsuited for each other fall for each other, overcome all kinds of obstacles and finally get together at the end. Now I know why I didn't remember it; there was absolutely nothing memorable about it. It was completely and utterly boring. The only part even remotely interesting was seeing Jon Cryer when he was young (if you don't recognize the name, he plays Charlie Sheen's brother on Two And A Half Men). His was also the only likeable character. Molly Ringwald was a bitch, her father was a bum, and all the kids at the high school were jerks. The lead male was a total dweeb with no backbone, and as I-Gave-Up-Doing-Homework-For-This?-Daughter pointed out several times, "He's not even hot."
We did watch the movie through until the end, I guess because we kept hoping it would get better (it didn't), and amused ourselves by making fun of the fashions. One thing about watching 80's movies: You can always make fun of the fashions. I mean, really, what were we thinking? Puffy sleeves? Three-tiered skirts? Jumpers? Baggy, pleated pants in pastel colors on guys? Even worse, these were the cool guys?
I think my daughter may be right. We really didn't have any taste.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 7:44 AM :: 9 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Monday, January 16, 2006
Things I Learned This Week (Chapter 2)
Things I learned this week (ok, actually last week, since this is Monday):
1. If you're supposed to wake your daughter up at 6:15am, and you forget until 6:32am, if you act really annoyed when you call up the stairs she'll think she slept through your first two calls and won't be mad at you.
2. The definition of "oddment" (a leftover piece of cloth, or something unusual).
3. It's ok to listen to Alice's Restaurant on Thanksgiving, because afterwards you'll have all kinds of conversation/arguments/awkward moments with relatives to take your mind off it. If, however, you read about a similar situation on Tink's blog, and your daughter doesn't get it, so you download the song on iTunes and make her listen to the whole 18+ minutes so she can see the similarities and "get the joke", you will have it stuck in your head for at least 3 days. So will your daughter.
4. The Board of Education in my town just passed a new graduation requirement in literacy. Starting with the class of 2009, all students will need to be able to read in order to graduate. Since they informed me of this by letter, I was tempted to call the principal and ask him to please explain himself because I graduated in 1989 and therefore have no idea what all these symbols on this piece of paper he sent me mean. Fortunately for my daughter, I refrained from making the call.
5. How to change a blog template.
6. How to add photos to a blog template.
7. How to change the colors on a blog template.
8. How to change the colors on a blog template again.
9. If you repeat #5-8 more than twelve times in two days, calling your family in to get their opinion on the results each time, not only will your butt start to take on the shape of the computer chair, but your family will eventually threaten to stage an intervention and/or committment to a psyciatric ward.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 11:18 AM :: 6 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Sunday, January 15, 2006
The Finished Product (Until I Get Bored And Re-do It)
I know, I know, I've got a short attention span. Back to tulips, but these are tulips from an actual photograh, not a drawing. It's a good thing I didn't pay for that other template, since the only piece of it I'm still using are the text boxes.
If you haven't been here over the last few days, you missed a lot! I changed my template to this purple/lavender design with a drawing of tulips at the top, which was a very nice template, but it just wasn't me. So I started fiddling around and figured out how to post photographs in a template. I went to a winter forest scene, but I couldn't get the colors right...it looked too gloomy with only blues and grays, but brighter colors looked out of place with the background. I tried other photographs, but they were either blurry, or had something ugly near the top (which is, of course, the only part that really shows). Just as I was about to give up in despair, enter Daughter-To-The-Rescue!
Seriously, if you don't have a teenager at home, you really need to think about getting one. Sure, I know they listen to crappy bands like My Chemical Romance, and have a tendency to leave stinky socks on the coffee table, but they're really helpful with this computer stuff. She taught me how crop pictures (Stop laughing! Yes, you! It's not my fault I'm an idiot around computers...I work outside, remember?). So I found a decent photo of one of my flower beds, cropped it so only the good parts show, and wal-la! Instant success!
Ok, ok, not instant...I still had to spend another hour figuring out what colors that would work with the new photo. What's with this Colormatch thing, anyway? Primary colors are red, yellow, and blue, so why do they give me red, green, and blue to work with? How on earth I am supposed to mix green & blue to get a good yellow? Don't ask me how I ended up with these two shades...I just moved the slider bars back & forth 80 million times until they appeared.
So, if you're feeling the winter doldrums, just visit my blog. I may not have anything interesting to say, but the explosion of color should knock your socks off! Just don't leave them on the coffee table...that's the teenager's spot.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 1:15 PM :: 2 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Learning My Colors
So I scrapped the tulips. Every time I opened my blog the whole screen would go pink while it was loading, and I just couldn't deal.
I figured out how to load my own picture, which took the place of the tulip design. I'm not sure about the colors, though. The yellow doesn't really seem to work, but it seemed too dreary with only the blues. Anybody have another color suggestion? Or should I just change the background picture to something more cheerful?
I have to say, designing flower beds is much easier than designing webpages.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 11:52 AM :: 0 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Still Tinkering...
Ok, I've been playing around with the colors. I like the tulips, but the original re-design had too much pinkish-lavender in it. I'm really not a "pink" person. What do you think of the blueish-purple colors instead? I wish I could change the basic background (the only part left that's pinkish, behind the text boxes), but I can't find the code for it. I think it may be an image, so I'm probably stuck with it.
On the upside, I'm impressing myself with my ability to change code. The color changes I figured out on my own, too...no help from the teenager!
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 10:46 PM :: 0 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes...Turn, And Face The Strange
It took me forever, but I figured out how to change my template. Of course, I had to inlist the help of Makes-Her-Mother-Feel-Like-An-Idiot-Daughter to accomplish it. It definately doesn't do much for the self-esteem to need a fourteen-year-old's help to understand instructions that, no matter how many times you read them, just don't make sense. Is this part of the aging process, or am I just a big dummy? Wait, don't answer that...I'm not sure I want to know.
So, what do you think of the new design? I know it's a little purple-y. I found one I liked better on a different site, in blues and greens, but I would have had to pay for it, and I'm just way too cheap for that. This one was free, for those technologically-advanced enough to figure out how to use it, or anyone with a teenager at home.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 10:50 AM :: 2 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Friday, January 13, 2006
An Early End To My Career As A Hairdresser
My grandmother lived in an old farmhouse, built around 1800. It had five bedrooms and two staircases, one in the front of the house, leading up from the "parlor, " and another off the kitchen. The upstairs bedrooms were for the most part unused, and so was the parlor (except for holidays). This created a perfect playplace for little girls who liked to play dress-up.
We were great fans of Little House On The Prairie, especially since the Ingalls Family had three girls, just like ours. My mother sewed a lot of our clothes when we were little, and we all had calico dresses just like those Mary, Laura, and Carrie wore, complete with bonnets and pinafores. We outgrew Little House On The Prairie before we outgrew playing dress-up, so in time we switched to what we considered "ballgowns," which were long, floaty dresses, some with sequins, purchased at the Thrift Store in the center of town for $10. We made many grand entrances down the staircase into the parlor, decked out in our finery.
One of the upstairs bedrooms had a makeup table with a mirror that had lights all around, like the kind movie stars used. The top of it was covered with blush and mascara, hair rollers, and an assortment of other beauty products. We were, of course, not allowed to use the makeup, although I'm pretty sure we tried out a lipstick from time to time. It was at this table that we would sit to do our hair. And along with the eyelash curlers and tweezers, the table contained a little pair of scissors.
I'm not sure how old I was when I decided to cut my sister's hair. Old enough to remember it, anyway. I'm guessing I was about seven at the time, which would have made her four. I didn't cut all of her hair, just her bangs. I've mentioned before that I'm not exactly good at straight lines, right?
I must have known right away that I'd done something wrong, because I made her promise me, before we went downstairs, that she wouldn't tell anyone. I didn't, of course, want her to know that I thought I'd done anything wrong, because even a four-year-old knows the fun to be had from tattling. So I think I said something along the lines of "Now, let's not tell anyone, and we'll just see if they notice on their own." I'm not sure whether or not I tried to cover the damage with her bonnet, but even if I did, in the end it didn't matter. She couldn't contain her excitement, and as soon as we got to the bottom step she blurted out, "Mommy, look, Sister-Who's-About-To-Be-Grounded-For-Life cut my hair!" Only she didn't say Sister-Who's-About-To-Be-Grounded-For-Life, she said my name, effectively eliminating my only defense, which would have been to blame it on my older sister.
I didn't get grounded for life, but I did get yelled at, and I'm guessing we weren't allowed to use the makeup table for awhile. I was really mad at her, too, because I knew nobody would have noticed if she had kept her mouth shut (I think the bangs ended up in a sort-of upside-down "V" shape...No, of course nobody would have noticed that).
My sister goes to a professional hairdresser these days. If she ever wants a quick touch-up, though, I have a little pair of scissors...
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 8:34 AM :: 4 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Lost In The Fog
In the summer, I frequently go in to work at 4:30am, so I can set up sprinklers and have them down again before the businesses open for the day. Sure, it's early, but by 8:30 in the morning when all the office workers are arriving, angrily honking their horns at each other in their rush not to be late, I'm headed home to enjoy my day. So I don't mind it.
There aren't very many other cars on the road at 4:30, especially on the parkway (commercial trucks aren't allowed, so no tractor-trailers or buses). There's a river I cross on my way in. On foggy mornings, I'll get halfway across the bridge and not be able to see either side. For a moment I'm all by myself, suspended in the middle of nothingness, surrounded by the mist rising off the river. It's an incredibly peaceful moment, and a beautiful way to start the day.
Have I mentioned I love my job?
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 1:22 PM :: 4 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
They're Ba-ack...
A few years back, right after Volkswagen reintroduced the Beetle, I saw a lime green model with a license plate that said "APHID." I thought it was funny at the time, but now I'm wondering...
Why would you name your car after a pesky parasite that refuses to die?
Because they're back!
I never ended up dragging the topiaries outside; instead I used a combination of insecticial soap and a systemic that's absorbed through the roots. Organic gardeners, please don't yell at me...I use chemicals only when absolutely necessary, and since the topiaries are potted (and indoors), in this case there's no danger of anything ending up in our groundwater. I also pruned off all the new growth, which is, of course, where the little buggers congregate. All was good, until yesterday, when I discovered the enemy had returned. With reinforcements.
So I'm back to pruning and soaping. I'll hold off on the systemic for now...Hopefully this time I've caught it early enough that the harsher stuff won't be necessary.
Any of you people who live in southern climates want to go catch a few ladybugs and mail them to me? They're pretty scarce up this way in January, but if you can lure a few into an envelope, I can promise them an All-You-Can-Eat Aphid Buffet. You might want to warn them about the kitten, though, who would probably enjoy an All-You-Can-Catch Ladybug Buffet...
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 11:19 AM :: 4 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Ghostly Romances
Last week I left the book I was reading at my aunt's store. I was too lazy to drive back over to get it (it wasn't that good of a book), but I wanted to read something, so I started on The Mediator series by Meg Cabot. These are, of course, my daughter's books, but the truth is I actually like books intended for teens. I enjoy re-reading old favorites, like Judy Blume & Beverly Cleary, but I find I like newer authors, too. There's one series I particulary like, called Dear America, which explore the viewpoints of mostly 11-to-13-year-old kids at different moments in history, written as if they were diaries. My daughter's too old for those now, but we still have a number of them on the bookshelves, mainly because I like them. Books that I like I tend to keep, because they're fun to re-read years later.
If you recognize the name Meg Cabot, you're probably thinking of The Princess Diaries. She's written a couple of other series, including The Mediator, as well as a few books for adults. This particular series is about a girl who can talk to dead people, and falls in love with a ghost. I read the first book, then went on to read the sequels because I wanted to find out what happened with the ghost-romance. Which I find amusing, since I don't read romance novels much anymore. I loved them as a teenager, but then I grew up, and although I still read them occasionally, I find I'm much happier in my marriage when I stick to regular old fiction. Because, let's face it, I love my husband dearly, but he doesn't exactly act the way those guys in the romance novels do. Nobody does.
Anyway, The Mediator books got me thinking about an old TV show, called The Ghost And Mrs. Muir. Does anybody else remember this show? It was about a widow (a young widow) who moved into an old house inhabited by the ghost of a seacaptain. I seem to remember the widow looking something like the blonde girl on The Munsters, but I could be wrong. I know the captain had a beard. I couldn't give you the plot of a single episode, but I'm pretty sure that there was some sort of sexual-tension going on between the widow and the ghost. As much sexual-tension as was allowed back then, anyway; I think it was filmed in black & white. It must not have run very long, or else it wasn't very popular, or it would already be on TV Land.
There's no real point to this entry, just one more useless memory dredged up and dusted off. I do wonder, though, if the widow ever got together with the ghost before the show ended...
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 10:18 AM :: 6 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Monday, January 09, 2006
The Number One New Year's Resolution In America
In an attempt to eat healthier, my family has decided to cut back on what we eat at dinner. Specifically, to cut out the pasta/rice/potato, and just eat a main course and a vegetable. We're not doing a low carb diet, it's just that we don't really need carbs at night. Especially since we tend to eat dinner on the late side, and who needs to fill up on all that food and then go to bed an hour later?
I don't really believe in low carb diets. Short-term I guess they work, but I don't think it's healthy to deprive your body of carbs long-term, and just doing it short-term doesn't really make sense to me. If you don't change your eating habits, you'll just gain it all back anyway, right? And I've decided it's really about time I did change my eating habits.
See, the thing is, I like food. No, I mean I really like food. And if I don't make a choice to make a change soon, my body will make the choice for me, by becoming diabetic. And I just like food to much to want to live with the eating restrictions that would come with being diabetic.
So, like a awful lot of other Americans out there, I'm now counting points.
I've done Weight Watchers before, successfully, until something happened to make me stop. The first time I got a kidney stone, and if I added up how many points all those glasses of cranberry juice I had to drink were, I wouldn't be able to eat anything at all. So I stopped counting. Or I went on vacation, and everyone knows you can't count points on vacation. But you're supposed to start again when you come back, right? But I didn't.
You won't find me at a Weight Watchers meeting. I joined once, went to the first four meetings, then stopped. Just long enough to get the little chart-thingy to figure out how to factor in exercise. The only thing that was beneficial about the meeting itself was the weight-in; the pep-talk afterwards doesn't really do anything for me. And I'm not going to pay $10, or $12, or whatever it costs these days, just to have a stranger jot down my weight while I stand on a scale. Having my husband jot down my weight would be a heck of a lot more effective, and free, but I'm not ready to resort to that yet. Nope, for now I'm going to go this alone. At least the looking-at-the-numbers-on-the-scale part.
I've decided I'd like to lose 5 pounds a month, which I think is reasonable. I can't tell you how many months I'll be doing this for, because that would be too much like telling you my weight, and if my husband doesn't get to see the numbers on the scale, neither does the internet. Only my daughter knows, and she'll never tell, because I've got the goods on her too. But suffice it to say that I'll be doing this for awhile.
So, anyway, the dinner thing? I'm not really a cook. I know it's just following directions, and I'm a good baker, so if I can follow the directions to make say, an apple pie, I should be able to follow the receipe for "Braised Endive with Lemon", right? But up until now, dinner consisted of a main course (meat, poultry or fish, usually just marinated or Shake 'N Baked), some sort of pasta or rice side dish (pre-packaged, just-add-milk-and-butter) and a canned vegetable (microwaved, with butter). No wonder I need to lose weight, huh? Can you say "Too-Much-Butter"?
If we're only having the meat and vegetable, I guess it's about time I learned to cook vegetables. Besides the green bean casserole with the canned green beans, canned cream-of-mushroom soup, and canned French-Fried-Onion-Rings, which is the only vegetable dish I know how to cook. So tonight, courtesy of the Weight Watchers cookbook, instead of a heated-up ham steak with a can of peas and butter, we'll be having Orange-Glazed Ham, with Mushroom and Bell Pepper Saute. And salad, which I've promised my daughter will always be on the menu in case she doesn't like whatever weird vegetable I've managed to cook up (or blacken).
I wonder what people in other countries make for New Year's Resolutions?
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 2:18 PM :: 3 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Friday, January 06, 2006
Things I've Learned This Week
I know they say you're supposed to learn something new every day. There are not enough brain cells left in my head to remember something new every day, though, so instead I will share what I learned this week (the stuff I remember, anyway):
When driving, do not assume you have the right of way, even when you do.
If you like to start the New Year with a clean house, it's not wise to let your 14-year-old invite friends over on New Year's Eve, then leave them alone while you go next door and drink wine until 1am. Unless your definition of a clean house includes "crumpled bags of Doritos and empty soda cans all over the living room."
If you ask nicely, someone kind like Mrs. Harridan will show you how to do links, and you can repay her by making her your first offical link.
Just because your father is smart does not mean that he will remember all of Dumbledore's great speeches (he's older than you, hence even less brain cells). Even the short, simple speeches. He also may not realize that "Tweak" is a verb, and "Nitwit" and "Blubber" are nouns.
That about sums up what I learned this week. Maybe next week I'll learn what "Oddment" means...
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 11:02 AM :: 3 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Toilet Paper As An Accent Piece
I have a work truck that I get to keep at my house. Every year, when I'm done with work for the season, I give the truck back, so it can be serviced and put in the garage for the winter. This year I had it a little longer than usual, because the garage wasn't ready (they just moved to a new location). So instead of me driving to the garage on my last day of work, leaving the truck off and having someone give me a ride home, like we usually do, my boss decided to come pick it up.
How many of you have ever had your boss in your house?
Right...
I like my boss a lot. He's a great guy, and a really good boss. I've also been in his house many times. It's spotless. Mine...isn't. So this morning I run around, straightening everything up on the outside chance he comes inside. Which he does. Which is fine, because the place didn't look too bad, and it's winter, so frost has killed off all the weeds in the front yard (he never, ever would have hired me if he'd seen my yard first). Everything is good.
Until he leaves, and I notice something sitting on the shelf directly opposite the front door. The shelf I apparently missed while doing my speed-cleaning. The shelf that is usually the first thing you see when you walk in the door. Sitting on the shelf was...a roll of toilet paper.
Hubby does not like to use tissues when he blows his nose. He says they're not strong enough, and he prefers toilet paper. It doesn't matter that I buy expensive, 3-ply tissues and cheap, thin toilet paper; he just doubles (or triples) the toilet paper up. When I point out that he could do the same with the tissues, he ignores me. Because this really isn't about paper products. It's a Power Struggle.
There are only a few things we Power Struggle over. The curtains are one...I like light, he doesn't. You know that pizza commercial, where the delivery guy goes up to a dark house and the guy who answers the door is so excited about how low the cost of the pizza is that he lets his kids turn on the lights for a few seconds, then says "That's enough" and shuts them off again? That guy is totally my husband. Except with Hubby it's not about saving on the electric bill; he just likes it dark. So whenever I walk by the curtains I open them, and whenever he walks by he closes them. I win on this when we have guests over, so at least it was light in here when my boss stopped by. However, that was an hour ago, and I'm in the spare room now, and Hubby's in the living room, so guess what? The curtains are closed again. Not completely, because that would be too obvious. No, there's about three inches less light showing from each window than there was when I last entered the room. And if I leave it unchecked, by this afternoon it will be just a tiny slit of light.
We also battle over the couch cushions. The couch is a sage-green color, with 5 big cushions on the back. One side of the cushions is the same green as the couch, and the other has a brown and tan pattern on it. The loveseat is brown (actually the loveseat is pink, with a brown cover, but we won't go there). So I like the brown & tan side up, to tie-in with the loveseat. He doesn't like the pattern, though, so he's always turning the green side up. This is another one I win when we have guests over. Actually I win this one more often than the curtain-battle, because once he's sitting on the couch he'll usually leave the cushions alone. But when I get up in the morning, all is green again.
The toilet paper battle is one my daughter and I wage together. Teenagers don't particularly enjoy bringing friends home from school to find a roll of toilet paper on the coffee table. As if having dorky parents home when you get there isn't embarrassing enough... Despite it being two against one, Hubby usually wins the toliet paper battle, because if we move the roll from the coffee table back into the bathroom (where it belongs), he'll just go get it again, and leave it somewhere else next time. Like, apparently, the shelf across from the front door.
So, Boss, if you ever find this blog, please be aware that I don't intentionally decorate my house with toilet paper. But while you were here, did you notice how nicely the brown & tan couch cushions match the pink loveseat with the brown cover? Not to mention the lovely Sasparilla-colored walls?
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 9:31 AM :: 5 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
What If The Policeman Thinks You're Fat And Pimply?
So my dented car and I headed down to the police station today, to pick up my accident report. Except that it wasn't an accident report, it was an incident report, because it happened on private property (a parking lot). Turns out an incident report has no useful information on it whatsoever. It's half a page long, lists the date and the address the "incident" took place at, both licenses plate numbers and the fact that vehicle #1 was at fault (Ok, I guess that part was useful, since I was vehicle #2).
The report doesn't give any information on the other guy, other than his license plate number, but it does list my name because I was the "complainent." No, I didn't misspell that, the police did. Fortunately I didn't look at it until after I left the station, or I would have felt obligated to suggest Spellcheck, and it's probably not a good idea to annoy the police.
Under my name are spaces for race, sex, date of birth, height, weight, hair, eyes, facial hair, build, and complexion. All of these were left blank, which is good, because I don't really need the officer's assessment of my build or my complexion. And it would have been really embarrassing if he had listed "bushy eyebrows" under facial hair...it's been awhile since I've had them waxed.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 4:25 PM :: 0 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Starting The New Year With A Bang
Actually it was more of a "crash-bang." You guessed it...car accident. Really more of a fender-bender. Except it was the other guy's fender, and the whole passenger side of my car. Nobody hurt, though, so that was good. No angry words, either...he admitted fault right away, and was actually apologetic (yes, apparently some people still apologize these days). It took the policeman nearly 25 minutes to arrive, though, which was annoying, especially since the station was maybe a four-minute ride down the street. We could have driven to them faster.
I haven't used this space as a forum to rant yet, and I don't want to start 2006 by setting a precedent, but I have to say there are an awful lot of bad drivers out there. People, you need to pay attention, and slow down. This was just one accident, but I've seen a good number of near misses out there as well. Grant right of way when you're supposed to. Actually stop at stopsigns, don't just pause, and look both ways before proceeding. If you're leaving a parking lot, you need to stop, regardless of whether or not there's a stopsign. And stop at red lights, even if the car in front of you made it through. It used to be just one car would keep going after the light changed; now I've frequently seen three or four. Driving is not a competition. You don't win if you're fast enough to pull out three seconds before the driver with right of way gets to the intersection. You just create one more person in the world who thinks you're a jerk. So stop it. There's enough people who think that already.
This isn't all aimed at the guy who caused my accident; he clearly did not grant right of way, but he was polite and apologized. And since his insurance company will be paying for the damage to my car, maybe he'll be a little more careful on the roads from now on. The rest of us need to be more careful too.
Be safe out there, everyone.
On a side note, isn't it odd that I feel the need to commend the guy for being polite? One more thing that used to be a given, and now seems like such a rare occurrence that it's considered praise-worthy. Be safe out there, everyone, and also be nice to each other.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 7:41 AM :: 5 Comments: ---------------------------------------
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Hello, 2006!
January 1st...I guess I'm supposed to list resolutions here, huh? I'm starting the New Year sipping coffee, as four 14-year-olds sleep upstairs. There's also a man snoring in my bedroom (Hubby), and another snoring on the couch (Hubby's friend). The dog, for once, is not snoring.
I first woke up around 5am, and could still hear the teenagers laughing. All is quiet now, though, and I imagine it will be for quite awhile (except for the snoring). I'd be very surprised to see any of them until sometime in the afternoon. Probably late afternoon.
I like that they've got a spot now where they can hang out. After moving out of my parents' house, I lived in a series of one bedroom apartments until we bought our house, a spacious 900-square-foot, two bedroom, one bath shoebox. No, that's not a misprint. 900 square feet. Yes, I know most new houses have garages that size. No, you can't park your car in my living room (Are you kidding? It wouldn't fit. We'd have to take down the bedroom wall first).
After years of talking about it, and at least a year of actually working on it, we turned the attic into another bedroom. Doubtful That We'd Ever Finish Daughter was thrilled. She helped do a lot of the work, from nailing down the floor to putting up paneling after I framed the walls (No, that wasn't a misprint either...I actually framed walls. Just please don't lean on them). Nailing up the paneling was quite an experience. The person who invented panel nails should be shot. Repeatedly. With a nail gun. Panel nails come in 1" and 1 1/2 ". If you get the shorter size, it's impossible to hold them in place without hitting your thumb with the hammer. If you get the longer size, 8 out of every ten nails will bend before you finish nailing them in, because they're so thin, and made out of such cheap metal. By the time we were finished, Never Thought She'd Need To Wash her Mother's Mouth Out With Soap Daughter and I both had swollen thumbs, and had learned a few new words.
But, now that it's done, the new room is paradise to a teenager. Especially a teenager that has been sharing 900 square feet with two dorky parents for the last ten years. The new bedroom has also given us something I've never had before: A Spare Room. We were unsure what to call the my daughter's old bedroom at first. I thought about calling it The Library, since it has four bookcases in it, but that seemed a little presumptuous, given the size of the house. At one point I considered calling it The Nursery (A plant nursery, people, NOT a baby nursery), because the topiaries are in there, and for awhile it housed a braided Hibiscus Standard that I rescued from outside just before frost did it in. Also the spider plant hanging in the corner keeps having babies. Calling it The Nursery would require too much explaining, though, and besides, the Hibiscus is no longer there, it having been given to someone who will take better care of it than me. I suppose I could call it The Hotel, since for awhile it was home to 20,000 aphids, or The Death Chamber, since the aphids are no longer with us. On occasion we've referred to it as the Computer Room, because, well, there's a computer in it. In the end, though, I just like the word "spare" so much that that's what I call it. The Spare Room.
So I was supposed to be going somewhere with all this, wasn't I? Oh yeah, resolutions. Here we go:
1. I resolve to finish painting the trim in the Spare Room. When my daughter resided there, it had light blue walls & ceiling (with clouds), and purple sponged-painted trim. I painted the trim that would be covered by furniture with white paint before I put the furniture there, so I wouldn't need to move bookcases & such later. But the trim around the doors, and the doors themselves (both entry & closet) are still purple.
2. I resolve to figure out what kind of walls to have in the living room, and put them there. Currently 1 1/4 walls are sheetrock, 1 1/4 walls are knotty pine, and 1/2 wall is nothing but insulation (under the windows, behind the couch. You wouldn't know it if I didn't tell you). The other wall is the fireplace, and that's one of the few things that looks good now, and can be left alone. I like the knotty pine better, even though it's painted, but it's really old, we'd never match it, and any insulation that used to be behind it has deteriorated into the bottom third of the wall. So it'll probably be sheetrock. If we don't get much snow this year, at least I'll have snow in the living room. Hello, sheetrock dust!
3. I resolve to insulate behind the new walls before they go up. Hello, itchy skin!
4. I resolve to paint the new walls a different color (as yet to be decided), because Sasparilla is a pretty cool name for a paint color, but it's actually not a very pretty color. I also resolve to not let Hubby pick the paint color this time.
5. I resolve to go to a wine tasting. I've always wanted to, but never have, so when I buy wine I have no idea what I'm getting. I tend to go for the interesting-looking labels, or neat names. One of the bottles I currently own is called "Fat Bastard." Hubby can't taste anymore, but he knows a lot about wine, so I'm going to drag him with me to a tasting anyway. I figure after putting up with the sheetrock dust & itchy skin, I'll be entitled.
So that's about it. Oh, I also have all the usual resolutions: eat better, exercise more, be a kinder, more patient person... But I'm not listing those. I figure I have a better shot of actually completing the home-improvement projects than the self-improvement ones.
And the wine. Let's not forget the wine.
Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 8:03 AM :: 3 Comments: ---------------------------------------