One of my favorite online pals, Pirate Steve (he’s not really a pirate, I just like to think of him as one), recently requested I blog a little more. Despite the fact he was clearly drunk when he said that, I’ll just go ahead and indulge his whims and my ego–although this post will most likely be void of anything beneficial, and will undoubtedly contain only a big, long, lame excuse embedded in cute prose about the current goings-on of my life.
The Architect and I have been working weeknights from six to midnight, and every weekend on our renovation project. With the Architect having to deal with his day job for eight hours and then come home and do manual labor, I’ve decided to step up the housefrau activities to make his life as easy as possible. I’ve taken over the yard work (why hasn’t lawn mower motor technology improved in the past fifty years?) and the task of taking things to the dump (made easier by my recent acquisition of a 1977 GMC Sierra Camper Classic V-8 pickup aptly named “The Beast”). I do laundry on a daily basis and do my best to keep the sawdust out of the “living” areas. And did I mention my recent, fifties-esque compulsion to have dinner ready when the Architect walks in the door?
Yep. I’ve turned into the UberCleaver. But, you know, if we’re splitting hairs about mid-century television housewives, I’d rather picture myself as a raven-haired Samantha Stevens–although if we’re being totally honest, I’m painfully aware I’ll always be more like her snarky, over-eyelinered mother, Endora.
Yesterday evening, after a day of grocery shopping and errand-running, I accompanied the Architect to a historic district review, where we pleaded our case for replacing our windows. Actually, he pleaded and I sat in the audience. It sounds cruel, sending him to the gallows on his own, but really, what would I have to add to the discussion that he couldn’t handle?
“No, no, no. Honey. Please. I’m a dark fantasy writer. Let me handle this.”
Right.
So, I watched as they argued if our dinky little house was “significant.” Then they grilled the Architect about why we couldn’t just repair the crooked, broken, air-leaking windows that currently have to have ugly storms slapped over them in winter. And he argued his case. He touched on the artistic points and the structural concerns of putting straightened windows back into crooked holes. And he won. We can tear out these things and put in new, energy efficient windows that do amazing things like stay open. But, for all you history lovers, don’t worry. We’re not chucking the old windows into the landfill; right now we’re tossing around the idea of making them into an interior wall/sculpture.
Well, that’s about the best I can do for now. As I warned before, this post had nothing to do with writing, because, honestly, right now my life has nothing to do with writing. But, don’t give up on me just yet; the construction will end sooner or later–at the very least, we’ll run out of money.
And to my friends Charles and Lana down in LA, I’m watching the Gulf and hoping you’re okay.
Here’s a photo proving renovations really are murder:
Hell and Wheels 
September 12th, 2008 at 4:27 pm
So, does this mean you’ll have time to come clean and organize my place next? lol
September 11th, 2008 at 3:27 pm
Kate!! You made my week in popping by! It’s so nice to see you around. Thanks for the encouragement. This past week brought stairs, more insulation and the promise of a soon uncluttered living area! Maybe then I can get my head back on straight.
September 10th, 2008 at 5:38 am
Pirate Steve – I like that! :)Hang in there, kiddo. You’re doing good work, and even though I’m seldom around myself, it’s nice to know you’re still out there too. 🙂
September 2nd, 2008 at 3:14 pm
Sidney — They self-propel? I had no idea. I have this image in my head of something like one of those little Roomba vacuum cleaners you can turn loose in your house. As far as the windows: not working, covered in lead paint, and almost all of them with broken glass. Time to, as a mechanic once aptly put, “take them to Jesus.”Laughingwolf — No blood, just the promise of malice. He was actually doing something purposeful with a screwdriver while I “took a break” (messed around with the camera).Steve — Ah, fire darts. That takes me back…
September 1st, 2008 at 12:09 am
After I lost several hours last Thursday, I, with appropriate sorrow and regret, gave up hammer juggling. I now pursue the much safer game of Fire Darts.
August 31st, 2008 at 5:31 pm
nice pic, but i see no blood! 😛 lol
August 30th, 2008 at 12:34 pm
I’m with you and Charles on the technology. I bought a self-propelled lawn mower a few years ago, and it didn’t make my life much easier.Glad things worked out with the windows. Sometimes it’s just not practical to cling to things that aren’t working.
August 29th, 2008 at 4:20 pm
Lana — Here’s hoping your pine giants stay right where they belong. As for the yard guys, we have under 2,000 square feet of yard, all broken up by hideous sidewalks. A yard dude would laugh at me if I tried to hire him. In fact, it’s not the grass that really kills me, it’s cleaning up the street–as we live on a long corner lot in a narrow alley where no one but us cares what the sidewalks and streets look like.And it’s not so much as spoiling the Architect as keeping the labor on its feet to do more work. ;)Charles — Give it ten more years, I’ll be exactly like Endora.Steve — Hammer juggling, huh? I’ll be needing video proof of that.I tried using the “I’m a dark fantasy writer” thing to get free food. Didn’t help there, either. Now, saying that and procuring a doll that eerily resembles the person I’m talking to and dipping its head in the water glass…that kinda works.
August 28th, 2008 at 10:45 pm
a) Yaaarrrgh.b) Not drunk exactly. Half a bottle of bourbon, sure, but not *wasted*. Okay, and yeah, I was (and am) popping Vicodin like tic-tacs until I get the hang of Hammer Juggling. c) My favorite episode was when Jerry Mathers had to go to school bald because Ward told June he wanted her to shave the Beaver.d) That was the Vicodin talking.e) You were right: ‘Let me through, I’m a dark fantasy writer!’ does not in fact work in council meetings. It does, however, serve quite well on crash sites, playground massacres and in times of civil unrest….Peace, matey! Yaarrrr…
August 28th, 2008 at 5:47 pm
Yep, my idea of lawn mower technology is to hire someone else to do it.I alwways really liked Bewitched. I don’t think I’d picture you as Endora.
August 28th, 2008 at 5:33 pm
We’re definitely keeping an eye on Gustav. I suspect we’re too far inland for any flooding problems these days, but there’s nothing to stop our beautiful, enormous, long leaf pine forest from coming down on our house, really. Fortunately we’re not short of evacuation destinations, anyway. Thanks for the well wishes!why hasn’t lawn mower motor technology improved in the past fifty years? This (& the South Louisiana heat & humidity,) is why we have a lawn guy. ;)Congrats on the windows! I guess sometimes the Architect deserves to be spoiled a bit.