The Beauty of Everyday Objects

While it seems we are always looking ahead to future home projects, and my head always hs a couple of decorating ideas percolating in the background, sometimes it takes a long, long time for these ideas to come to fruition. Finally, with a free afternoon today, I took some time to take photos in the hopes of picking some to display in our dining area. While my theme for these photos has changed somewhat over the years since the idea first sprouted, I think I have my final four picked out from this afternoon's shoot. Plus, I already have the frames and mats, which have been sitting in a closet for about a year. It looks like I may have even found a high quality photo shop to reproduce my first ever digital prints. And here they are:


I like to play with macro, can you tell? And I love my Nikon DSLR!

Laboring the Day Away

"Ruth," a small voice croaked as I got out of bed this morning and headed to the door. "I need more sleep. I'm sick."

The missing word that hung in the air at the end of that last sentence would be "again". This is at least the third time in about one month that Michael has been sick, although thankfully this time it appears that no vomiting is involved. There have been some miserable days for my husband of late. It's a good thing we're headed to Greece for a vacation in four weeks - he really needs one! I'll cross my fingers that any sickness will stay at bay during our travels.

In the meantime, we have been preparing for our departure by using Labor Day Weekend as a Weekend of Labor. During my spring Europe trip, work on the bathroom cabinet doors that we were preparing to paint ground to a halt. Not surprisingly so; wood cabinet doors, especially those with beveled fronts and deeply grained wood are a real pain to clean. The process starts with stripping, a messy, foul-smelling task wherein you apply orange goo to the wood and allow it to dry before scraping it off in dirty, rubbery ribbons. Then follow hours of sanding, working your way from 80 to 220 grade sandpaper, going crazy trying to sand those hard to reach beveled corners by hand. Next, the first coat of primer, followed by a layer of spackle that must be laboriously sanded down after hardening, all for the purpose of filling in the wood grain that would otherwise show through the many layers of paint. Now it's time for a second coat of primer, followed by a light sanding and four coats of white paint, a light sanding between each coat.

At this point, after more than twelve hours of actual labor each, including the stripping that was completed in the spring (oh wait, let me amend that - twelve hours of work for me, probably more like 20 for Michael; I should give him credit where credit is due), we are ready for the first coat of paint! Woohoo! Except now that Michael is sick, the project may have ground to a halt for the day. Sure, I could do it on my own, but because of all the crazy beveling (I'm not sure what else to call it, but you can see what I'm talking about in the photo above), it's probably not a good idea. Michael, in all seriousness, is a better painter than I, and trying manage all the picky little corners and then get everything with the sponge roller before the brushwork dries could lead to disaster. I can only hope that Michael will feel well soon, not due so much to the painting project, but just to be able to see him well and healthy for more than one week at a stretch would be wonderful.

And lest you think the weekend was nothing but work for us (no wonder Michael got sick!), we did manage a few enjoyable breaks, including having friends over for dinner last night, when I witnessed this amazing sunset from our porch, and I made it out Saturday night for the Mighty Shiny show with a friend. But don't think I'll be taking a break all day now that Michael's down; I'll fill the time with my own errands, from baking cookies to going to Costco. Labor Day, indeed!

It's Hammock Time!

Lately, my life has been swallowed up by what is purportedly a minor bathroom remodel. Every night after work, time has been spent stripping the cabinets, sanding, painting, and cleaning, with little down time in the house. Sure, I took Friday night and Sunday afternoon off to be with friends, but home life has been devoted to home improvement.

Weary of it all, staring blankly at the dusty floor lit by today's sunny weather, I knew it was time for a break. For a whole five minutes - maybe even six - I lay in the hammock on our porch, staring dreamily at a blue sky through the glass panes above. Never mind that the panes were smudged with debris washed from the roof and trees in last week's rain; this view was, for the moment, perfect.

Lucy was excited, too, so I helped her scramble into the hammock beside me. We watched as an extremely fat bumble bee tried to make it's way through the glass to the open sky above. Thwarted at every attempt, the bee finally made it beyond the edge of the roof, flying through the open walls of the porch to freedom in the high skies. Lucy seemed a bit disappointed; doubtlessly she would have preferred the insect hover lower, giving her the opportunity to try out her hunting skills by snapping at it.

With the bee having moved on, I decided that it was time for me to make a move as well. Back to the kitchen I headed to finish the pasta salad I was fixing for dinner. But busy as we may be, when fine weather calls we all need a little hammock time.

When Winter Trees Begin to Fall

While typing an email to a friend via facebook earlier today, an unexpected message from our housemate, Amy, flashed on the screen.

"A tree branch fell through the guest bedroom window. Please call me when you get this message."

It wasn't exactly the Christmas present I expected, to say the least. I immediately called Amy, who gave me the complete picture, including a couple of actual pictures that she posted on facebook so I could assess the damage from my current location in Phoenix (isn't technology great sometimes?). Broken glass shards on the floor, butt end of a douglas fir branch with the diameter of horse hoof resting on the sill, poking through the blinds a good four inches or so - yep, a branch had indeed fallen through. The recent snowfall, it seems, was too much for this branch to bear, and the weight of this heavy load had sent it crashing down.

But look on the bright side: no one was hurt, and with Amy home to hear the crash and feel the house rattle, the situation was under control in a mere two hours or so. With the help of lovely neighbors and friends who came to the rescue, the glass was swept up, the branch cleared away with the help of a chainsaw (hey, I can't say it didn't have it coming, cheeky branch! the nerve!), and the broken window was even removed and replaced with insulating foam to protect the guest room from the elements. Michael and I are incredibly grateful for such support and hard work.

And in the end, this is no great tragedy. We'll order a new window when we get back home, and in the meantime, the guest room will simply be out of commission. Sorry, potential sleepover pals! We can still make room for you if you need a bed.

Speaking of which, it's time I head for bed myself. By the time I post this, it will be Christmas day in Arizona. So merry Christmas to all, and safe slumbers, free from falling trees!

The Ongoing Saga of Dishwasher DIY

When it comes to home improvement, Michael and I are pretty firmly in the DIY camp. OK, so more accurately we're really in the DID (Do It Dad) camp, which, considering my dad is a professional builder, is not hard to understand. But sometimes we manage to go it on our own. Or at least we try. Hence, we did not want to pay an additional $100 for someone to install our new dishwasher. How hard could that be, anyway?

Good question. And I still don't know the answer. Oh, the dishwasher is up and running, all right. And, no, we don't need to go catch it. Although we do, apparently, need a pan to catch drips from the leak that unexpectedly reappeared yesterday.

But let's go back to the beginning.

The dishwasher arrived, a fully formed box with a slick black metal face, on the cusp of a very busy weekend.

"Don't try to install it on your own," I had told Michael. "We can work on it together on Saturday."

After sleeping in following a late Friday night, we found ourselves with a severe time shortage on Saturday morning. This was compounded by the fact that the dishwasher did not, in fact, come with all parts needed for installation. Specifically, we needed a 3/8" elbow with exterior threads. No problem; we'd have time to stop by Ace to get one on Sunday. In the meantime, I attached the dishwasher handle and Michael cut a piece of wood to raise the floor under the new dishwasher an extra inch. Progress had been made.

Sunday found us huddled over the plumbing fixtures at our local Ace Hardware, perplexed as to which size elbow we actually needed. Sure, it was 3/8" where it attached to the dishwasher, but what about the hot water pipe? What size was that?

"Well, let's get a couple of sizes, then we can just return what we don't need," I suggested. Michael agreed, and picked out two options.

Neither option was the right one.

Back at Ace (after all, we needed to take the dog for a walk, was it really such a big deal to head back to the store?), Michael picked out the correct fixture. Soon, we were back at home, ready to roll the dishwasher into place.

OK, that was easy enough. With the dishwasher in place, we reached underneath to fish for the drain pipe and wiring. Where was it? And why was it so hard to reach under the thing, anyway? How did they expect humans over the age of six to be able to reach an arm under there?

Take two. We rolled the dishwasher back out. "Let's tie some string to the pipe and the wires so that we can pull them out that way after we move the dishwasher," I said brightly. And this would have been a bright idea, too, had the string not been too slippery for my double knot, and we lost the wiring behind the motor once again.

Take three. Out came the dishwasher. This time, Michael had the even brighter idea to tuck the wires under the cardboard we had laid down to protect the floor. Success!

At this point, it was time for me to head out for Julfest, but despite a few stressful moments, I was feeling confident again. Maybe I would even come home to a working dishwasher!

Ah, such innocence. When I came home, little had changed. The stacks of dirty dishes and dusty tools that were slowly taking over all available counter space had not budged. Michael pointed out a new spanner in the works: the existing copper hot water pipe could not be bent to attach to the dishwasher. We were at a stalemate until we could determine what to do next. And, of course, the dishwasher would need to be rolled out once more.

Late that night, I brought my dad up to speed about the situation over the phone.

"You can bend the pipe," he told me matter-of-factly.

"With vice grips?" I asked, a little incredulous. "I can't bend this pipe, period, Dad. I mean, I can move it up and down, but it doesn't bend."

"Not with vice grips!" he admonished. "That could cause a leak. You can definitely bend it by hand."

A that point, with Michael at work, I wasn't about to test my dad's assertion by pulling out the dishwasher on my own. The whole situation made me tired. I went to bed and tried not to dwell on it.

Over a quick phone call while at work the next day, Michael explained that he'd discussed the matter further with dad, and wound up buying a special, flexible dishwasher hose instead. Dad, he said, understood.

But come Monday night, the dishwasher was still not installed, although it did get some more exercise as we rolled it back and forth multiple times. Tuesday night, work began again, not made any easier by the fact that the longer the process took, the shorter our tempers grew.

But finally, after the leaks were seemingly fixed, and all attachments firmly attached, we loaded up the washer, pushed the button marked, "heavy duty" (after all, those dishes had been sitting out for days), and marvelled at the pretty blue glow of the LED as the dishwasher almost silently came to life.

"No leaks!" I proclaimed to Michael the next day. "And the dishes are sparkling!"

Gleefully, I reorganized the cleaning supplies and put them away under the sink. Only to have Michael, an hour later, inform me that my celebration was premature. Out came the cleaning supplies from under the sink, and down went Michael, towel and wrench in hand.

Now, tonight, the second load is currently in operation. And the leak, cross our fingers, appears to have abated. Of course, I now have to finish this post and go upstairs and actually test this theory. Let's hope the Ongoing Saga of Dishwasher DIY will finally come to a happy conclusion.

Trimmings & Trappings

Last Wednesday I received an unexpected message from my mom (or Mums, as I usually refer to her). Would the family be able to come up some time soon to do some of the trim work in our house? After all, the weather looks like it going to be pretty crummy, and dad and Sam need clear days to work on their various jobs...

After explaining that Michael had four days off right at that moment - so would it be possible for them to actually come up Thursday? - mums and dad were quiet on the other end of the line.

"Well, we'll see," mums was apprehensive that they could be ready and make the four hour drive up to Seattle the very next day. "We're very busy."

Now, if you know my mom at all, you should know that she is ALWAYS too busy. Or rather, my dad and brother are ALWAYS too busy. And there is never enough time. This state of business will, I am sure, never change, but in actuality no matter how busy things are (and they are ALWAYS busy), somehow they still manage to squeeze in time to help Michael and me out. And for that I am truly grateful. Our house would not be what it is today without their unwavering support and hard work.

So it was that Thursday night the three arrived with a pickup load of Oregon white oak trim boards just as I was starting to cook a butternut squash curry. For the next two and a half days they worked, and the result is that our entryway, living, and dining room now are decked out in beautiful solid oak baseboard where before there was only a bare strip of sheetrock showing above the crack where the floorboards meet the wall. The windows, too, were fully trimmed out in oak, and it looks just as fabulous as I had hoped.

Of course, the project is not finished - isn't there always more to be done? We are left with the hall and a few other spots still in need of trim, as well as the rails above the stairwell, where the existing dingy woodwork looks like the proverbial forgotten stepchild when compared with the new, freshly oiled oak. I'm holding out hope that we can finish it off this winter - provided, of course, that we aren't all too busy once again.