Monday, May 03, 2010
Monday Photo - a Two-fer
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Before & After
And here's the after. The brick path has been extended all the way to the edge, the bush against the house is a New Dawn rose, the tree is a pink flowering dogwood. Oh, and I think you can tell the difference between the old and new roof, too.
Gerry tells me that the next project is to clean up that area on the right side of the path. Part of it is ivy lawn, but a lot of it just has junk maples coming through the rocks.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Randomness
It's been a strange day. It was supposed to be a quiet Friday morning with the house to myself for a while, finally. It seems like there's been someone around, strangers in the pantry, on the roof, working in my family room forEVER. But, it was not to be. By 8:30 am, three pages into the magazine I'd been saving, and less than a half a cup of coffee down, I realized it was hopeless, and got dressed, poured away the coffee. Disappointed.
Earlier, I was making Gerry's breakfast, and had so much trouble cracking an egg, I put my thumb right through the yolk. I've been making eggs for how many years now? Let's not even count, it's frightening.
My errand and shopping plans went awry, Gerry slaved in the new rock garden all day (and caused me some concern), and apparently I cooked for the first time in my life tonight. I shattered a custard cup, threw capers around the counter, caused sparks in the microwave, found out I was out of a major ingredient halfway through the pie I was making, and burned my fingers on the oven door. Oh, and let's not forget thinking it was safe to add to the whipping cream in the blender, opening the lid, and covering myself in spattered whipped cream!
Despite all that, there were good things today. Like the geese having a little moonlight swim on the pond: (oh, how I wish you could hear the frog-song right now, and smell the lilacs!)
Like the beautiful containers of the spices that arrived today (and the Fooled You peppers that arrived a couple days ago):
Monday, April 26, 2010
DIP - Asia Ancient Icon
Sunday, April 25, 2010
I'm Such a Delicate Flower
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Monday Photo - Something Odd or Unusual
Friday, April 16, 2010
Roof Still Isn't Done...
...five days later. Gerry thought I was kidding earlier when he called home and I said "don't come home without wine." I had to go out and get my own. (See the part that's done? It does look a lot better than that stark almost-black look we had going.)
Spring Blooms
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Roof Work
I’ve been up since 4:30 am, when I heard the stream of water begin to run on the loft floor. The roofers covered the holes very well when they removed the skylights for work yesterday, but the spot that began seriously leaking while Bekah was visiting, let go even more. We have huge blisters running along the ceiling. I’ve managed to contain it with one bucket, two dishpans, and a large towel. Tonight we’ll be removing the blisters from the ceiling, hopefully so the plaster can dry. I’m thinking of it like peeling sunburn.
Of course, a new leak sprung, right down between the frame and the trim of the window next to my co-worker's desk. It gathered in the Roman style gathers of the curtain, and spattered everywhere when he pulled it away from the glass to see what was happening.
Now the sun is out (it wasn’t supposed to go away until Thursday – so much for all that expensive Doppler weather crap), and the men continue to work on the roof – tromping, dropping, heaving. I feel as though I am under siege, and if my car weren’t blocked in the garage, I would be OUT OF HERE. I’ve given serious consideration to becoming incompetent; to succumbing to the helpless-female-vapors and telling my husband he must take care of me, me, me, I’m just a delicate flower. Perhaps a complete melt-down and stay in some clean hospital room is in order. But really, how can I complain, when I’m the one who KNEW we needed a new roof, and was proven correct, unfortunately.
But why, why do they haul those bundles of shingles all the way up the ladder on their shoulders, these big, hearty tattooed men, and then drop them from shoulder height? The walls rattle, things fall off shelves, the pictures are crooked, and then it gets quiet, and suddenly, BLAM! And they drop more, the walls shudder, and I look for a foot sticking through the ceiling.
The know-it-all neighbor paces the property line. The same man who told me to stop feeding the geese because it’s illegal and encouraging them to stay will cause them to eat all my fish (I KNOW geese don’t eat fish – the ducks might, but the geese don’t). He paces the line, wanting to snoop, wanting to critique, and I stare out the window at him, daring him to say or do one negative thing, because I’m about to rip off my hormone patch and burst out there and tell him to mind his own business or I’ll rip out his outdoor telephone ringer that makes me feel like I’m living next door to a used car lot. This is the same man who, in his big white Hummer, cut me off TWICE in a two block stretch on the way to the bank. He still doesn’t know he cut off his own neighbor. Who needs a Hummer in the city anyway? (OK - I have to edit this to admit that he was actually admiring the work, and wants an estimate from our roofers, and since the noise has stopped, I'm a little calmer. However, he's still talks down to me, and acts like he knows everything.)
I’ve contemplated a trip to the treehouse, but that is directly under where they are working; saws, hammers, radio set to 1980s rock, other torture devices. It is also directly next to the closet I had to empty of all the fabric, so they could use the access door to the attic. The guest room is now filled with teetering stacks of flat-fold fabrics, the door to the closet is open, the protective plastic has been removed from the access door – and they just informed me that they decided to go in by rolling back the roof boards instead. Did I mention they have to get in there to strap on the chimney, which has pulled away from the house? That’s on the old part of the house – over 100 years old and still sporting the original roof boards – clean and dry and intact. The roof of the new addition on the house, built about 1980, has modern plywood sheathing which, along the entire northern edge, has rotted about two feet back from the edge.
For the past few days, my horoscope has read something along the lines of a pleasant financial surprise. I haven’t won the lottery, and the price on the roof repairs keeps going up. Perhaps if I need to take out a home improvement loan, they’ll say yes??
Hugs to all, from the soon-to-be-incarcerated me.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Monday Photo - Reflections
Monday, April 05, 2010
Monday Photo - Something Easter-ish
Sunday, April 04, 2010
A New Round Robin

Tuesday, March 30, 2010
If I Were...

I found this over on Serena's blog tonight, and decided to play along. How about you?
If I were a month I would be June.
If I were a day I'd be Saturday.
If I were a time of day I'd be morning.
If I were a planet I'd be Mercury.
If I were a sea animal I'd be an otter.
If I were a direction I'd be East.
If I were a piece of furniture I'd be a comfy rocker.
If I were a liquid I'd be nectar.
If I were a gem stone I'd be turquoise.
If I were a tree I'd be a Linden.
If I were a tool I'd be a sewing needle.
If I were a flower I'd be a stargazer lily.
If I were an element of weather I'd be a thunderstorm.
If I were a musical instrument I'd be a cello.
If I were a colour I'd be aqua.
If I were an emotion I'd be hope.
If I were a fruit I'd be a raspberry.
If I were a sound I'd be chimes.
If I were an element I'd be silver.
If I were a car I'd be just what I drive - a Murano.
If I were a food I'd be creme brulee.
If I were a place I'd be the NC beach.
If I were a material I'd be silk.
If I were a taste I'd be caramel.
If I were a scent I'd be ocean rain.
If I were a body part I'd be an eye.
If I were a song I'd be You Are So Beautiful - Joe Cocker.
If I were a bird I'd be a meadowlark.
If I were a gift I'd be jewelry.
If I were a city I'd be Paris.
If I were a door I'd be double French.
If I were a pair of shoes I'd be black suede boots.
If I were a poem I would be Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou.




