Friday, September 13, 2013


Stop!  This is not part 2 of  "The Bride Wore Red Tennis Shoes."  This is a sweet blog written by a matron wearing her red Nikes.  Actually, it is also a quick view of one of the almost finished
bathrooms.  The plumber and the electrician are two of my favorite people right now.  The plumber came yesterday and installed all the new plumbing.  We are "3" again.  The electrician is coming in the morning.  My two favorites for the week would have to be my red shoes and the plumber.

This has been one of those days when any given norm or concept about what is supposed to be happening next will change.  I know this is not earth shattering for anyone else or important to world peace but it is my little plot of dirt and my peace of mind.

I am terribly behind.  Yesterday I had one of those kicker migraines that slaps you into bed, languishing beyond the simplest of functions such as forming words when trying to talk to your husband on the phone.  I don't know when Tyelenol has laid me so low.  I think the bleach fumes got me when I was cleaning the tub, which all the workers have stood in from day one, despite the canvas and plastic covering.  "Hey, they are having a tub party in here, bring your dirtiest boots."  Which is a big deal because the one item we didn't replace was our cast iron tub that is still in good form.  Maybe better now a la bleach.

Yesterday, after the plumber left, I was going to the lighting shoppee to pick up the new lighting for the Princess bath.  But I couldn't even raise my head up off the pillow.

This afternoon I made my trek across the river into the land of builders' nirvana.  I was so excited this light was in because I'm trying to get the Princess bath finished before her highness arrives on the scene.  The electricians and the painters are all set up for the last triumphant executions necessary to finish this task.

A three light, not a four.  I had checked out the big box store early on and decided to give this large local company a shot.  I am all about local and American made, when possible.  First visit a few weeks ago, I ordered a 3 light and I purchased a 4 light already available in the store.  Bring it home and a globe is chipped.  New 3 light comes in. I drive over, pick up the new 3 light, return chipped 4 light and order new 4 light. 

They call me Tuesday and I drive over today to pick up my new 4 light.  Nope.  It is a 3 light.  There have been many hiccups as with any major project.  If you can't say something nice, say nothing at all.  I have learned how to say a lot of things, nicely.   Remember, I can say "Bless Your Heart" with a smile on my face, and you'll never see my lips moving.  I left the store and got in my car and sat down for a minute.  "Wait a minute."  You do get more flies with honey.  I walked back into the store, pointed out my original purchase was a 4 light, it was chipped so I had to bring it back, and I had ordered a new 4 light and now the order was wrong.  Please and thank you, I would like to get this new light as soon as possible before my Princess arrives.  I didn't add everything about the electricians and the painter because I don't always remember the good stuff when I'm thinking on my feet. I kept my promise to myself to stay calm and hurried to the Dr. Pepper Iccee store down the road.  That employee told me to "Hurry back, honey!"  We shall see how fast I get back over the river to pick up the new lighting.

Now I was home, trying not to throw a big hissy fit because everything was falling apart.  The Dr. Pepper Iccee was working!  The process can continue without the light, at this point.  But my nerves were almost shot, between the headache yesterday and all the jazz this afternoon, looking at another big disappointment.  And then the dog started barking, but not his usual "oh look, that dang dog from across the street is running around looking stupid and I'm in the house" bark.  A thunderstorm cloud had darkened the house and I went to see what the dog was coming undone about.  In the dark foyer, a man's figure appeared in the sidelight, backlit in the grey light.  Dog Protector jumped at the window and I screamed, startled to see the man at the window, ringing the bell.  Well, all of that excitement for the UPS man.  I think I scared him too!  We are all on a little edge because of uninvited people doing their holiday shopping in the neighborhood, but that is another story and project not to be shared further.

The UPS man left a good size box at the door.  I wasn't expecting anything so it totally surprised me.  Burt's folks had sent us a waffle maker.  I guess because I was still unnerved by the UPS man and the afternoon, I just started crying.  Yes, I cried over a waffle maker, a most unintentional result of a lovely intentional gesture and as Honey said she "finally found something we didn't have."  Which is true.  Anytime anyone has waffles, I sigh and wish for a waffle maker. 

And the reason for all the celebrating with my red Nikes is because I'm dancing with happy feet today.  Today is my one month anniversary of blogging.  I almost made a cupcake.  On Thursday, around 6 p.m. I hit a big number.  I don't really know what all the statistics mean, but it is my nice little start that has me excited.  Years ago, our newspaper had a local columnist who was very popular.  One evening we were at the same gathering and I was excited to go up and talk to her about her column.  I will never forget her words to me.  Reminds me of my Barry Manilow story but we won't go there for awhile.  Miss Popular Columnist turned and smiled at me (and all of her invisible followers standing in line behind me to speak a word) and said "Thank you for your readership."  Her words left a huge impression on me, and not for good.  She would have been better off to say she didn't like the hamburgers being served.  Oh, perchance to even wink at a dream of having a regular paying position with a newspaper. 

So all I can say, from the bottom of my grateful heart, is thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who takes a minute out of their busy day to even think of looking me up and giving my blog a read.  This blog is like having a four week old baby.  I'm extremely proud, tired and protective of my work but inside of me is such joy at being able to use my talent.  I am selfish. I am writing to get these stories out but most of all, happy that someone is enjoying my effort.  Thank you for all of your positive encouragement.  One thing I promise, you will never hear me say  "Thank you for your readership."  Even if I don't like the hamburgers, I will always have the time to say thank you.  At the least, "Bless Your Heart!" And I mean that nicely!

a woman looking for an Iccee Machine     

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