Floor Plans 3

The saga continues....

So once I had established that my floor was more work than one woman could handle, I did the sensible thing and appealed to my handy boyfriend to help bail me out. He was glad to help (I think he is secretly thrilled to have a project to play with, but that could be my imagination) and has vast more amounts of knowledge in this arena than I do. Here is the only thing...

When you ask someone to help you that actually knows the right way to do something - all of a sudden there are many more steps to a project. And by many more steps, I obviously mean more work. Doh. Unexpected physical labor. Oops.

So what I thought was a quick sand 'em up, slap on a coat of poly job now has evolved. Jack convinced me I needed to pull off baseboards, then I had to repaint them - which meant unearthing old cans of dusty paint. Which then lead to painting the bottom edge of the wall where it wasn't painted. Now I feel like since I have the room empty and the paint out I might as well fix the stripes on wall that have needed touch ups since right after I moved in, so I spent my morning taping off stripes. This afternoon I will be filling in cracks with wood putty and hopefully rocking out one of the stripe colors on the wall. Tonight after Jack joins me we have an hour of sanding to do and a coat of stain. Tomorrow another coat of stain, more stripe painting, and reapplying baseboards. I would like to believe that is it, but I am not getting my hopes up. Hopefully I can have furniture back in there by the weekend. Pray for me.

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My Valentine~

I don't do mush well. So it goes without saying that Valentine's Day is not really my best holiday. Not that I don't like it, but the overwhelming mush of it all sometimes makes me feel like a Valentine Scrooge. (Especially last night when I had to fight through the mob of wild eyed, crazed looking moms fighting for the valentine packages just so I could get a heart shaped peanut butter egg.) Don't get me wrong- I love romance and flowers and Kenny G playlists as much as the next girl. But after a decade of dating in the real world, I am way too much of a realist to suspend belief for the day and believe in fat, winged babies shooting people in the ass to make the world a happier place. However...

This Valentine's Day is not only mushy, cupid day- it also marks six months of dating for Jack and I. Sometimes I find it impossible to believe we have been dating that long already - and other times it feels like we have been together forever. So I am feeling not exactly more mushy, but maybe more sentimental than normal. That does not mean I believe in fat, winged babies, but it may inspire me to find racy lingerie and wear it to Jack's with a trenchcoat and hooker boots. Of course, that is really just standard Monday night entertainment....

All kidding aside, (and me putting on hooker boots on a weeknight after being with kid since six a.m. is definitely a joke - so you can breathe again Mom) Jack and I will be spending our Valentine's Day barricaded together in his house with steaks and red wine and pajama pants and probably large amounts of pink and red peanut M&M's. It should come as no surprise that I love the parts of Valentine's Day that are comfortable....or edible. It is a testament to how much I love Jack that I am even willing to share~

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Timeline of a Relationship~

In the beginning, we try hard. We exfoliate, we curl, we lipstick and whiten and pluck. We clean our cars and our houses and our lawns. We do our nails – hands and toes. We curl up on the couch in the most flattering position – the one that hides our extra love handles and pushes out our cleavage. We stock up our purses with lip gloss and breath mints and other emergency supplies. We try to put our best foot forward, say the right things, dress to impress.

Then we get comfortable.

We start shaving every other day instead of every day – you can barely feel it anyway.

We resume using ponytail holders and ditch the more intensive make up. Goodbye eyeliner.

We have the break through night in where we trot out the pajama pant look, ruining the fantasy that we really sleep all the time in sexy nighties and thigh highs.

We talk about our periods.

We admit we don’t like their crazy friend.

We begin to roll our eyes when they find yet another sporting event on tv.

We stop wearing the heeled boots that make our ass look good and yank back out our comfy tennis shoes.

We break out all our favorite foods that make our breath stink – for me, sour cream and onion stax. Yummy. But smelly.

Men should take all this slacking off as a compliment actually. I don’t feel the need to impress you anymore, I feel comfortable enough in our relationship to know you aren’t in it for the sexy clothes or perfectly curled hair. I feel safe enough with you to be myself, the way I am at home on the days I am not with you. There is no longer days where I have to ‘pretty up’ because I am going to see you – which means that you see me an hour earlier than before. Not that I won’t pretty up from time to time, but I no longer feel the need to do it all the time. I am secure enough in us to believe you are going to stick around when you see my hair without styling products. So here is the message men should take from this : the worse I look when I come see you, the more I love you. Enjoy the extra hour of me in my sweatpants.

Snow day~

Ok -technically this is several days post-snow day, but this is my favorite moment of my lazy Saturday afternoon:

Jack's six year old son runs into the house where his sisters and I are relaxing on the couch and yells, "Stephanie! We are building the coolest snow tunnel ever! (Insert more gushing over snow forts/fights/tunnnels here)" And then he runs back outside. I laugh and doze back off.

Fifteen minutes later....

Jack walks in the house, grinning like a little kid. "We are building snow tunnels! (Insert more restrained gushing here) We may be out playing all night!" And then he is gone.

This is exactly how I have always wanted my Saturday afternoons to be. Thank God for Jack.

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Bikinis in Winter~

If there was ever a time where it was glaringly obvious to me that men simply do not think like women, it would when Jack asked me to go swimming. In January. Granted, it was an inside pool with a hot tub and I like water. But I am willing to bet that if you asked any woman to go find a bathing suit to go swimming with twenty four hour notice in the middle of winter….she would react the same way I did in my head where Jack couldn’t see or hear. WHAT?!?!?!?

My brain frantically began cataloguing all the reasons this was a bad idea. One, I am almost albino white by the middle of January once my summer tan is completely dead. Two, my skin is super dry on a normal day – and this bitter cold day that was probably the driest of the entire year had leached whatever little moisture I had left. So I am white, flaky, and dry. Three, winter shaving. Any woman that tells you she shaves the same way in the winter as she does in bathing suit season is either lying or has waaaaay too much time on her hands. Or she is truly Superwoman. So now I piss off my super dry, super white skin by trying to super shave like I haven’t in months – which naturally results in angry red razor bumps that show up beautifully against all the albino that is my skin. Perfect. And I am not done yet.

How about the fact that even though my elliptical machine is in my living room I haven’t used it in probably two weeks? Or that I have ate fat-sucking carbs day in and day out all week in the form of pizza and breadsticks? Or that I recently discovered how much I miss full caffeine, non-diet Coke? Or that Jack and I have been dating almost six months so I was lulled into that comfortable stage where you don’t worry so much over dimples that no one can see anyway? Or that I hadn’t looked at any of my bathing suits in months, much or less looked at myself in one. Bathing suits never look the same from season to season – how in the world am I supposed to have one magically ready in twenty four hours that will instantly transform me from a water-retaining, carb bloated, flaky dry, red bumped, dimpled albino into anything resembling sexy and attractive???

Of course I said none of this to Jack, because that would make me look like the insecure, typical, body conscious woman that I am, but try not to be. Instead I said – sounds like fun! And I pulled out my drawer of bathing suits, braved the mirror in a bikini, breathed a sigh of relief that I could actually wear it in public without feeling like I need a mask to disguise my identity, and I went swimming. And it was fun. And I forgot all about everything that I had obsessed about for the past twenty four hours and enjoyed myself. And later that evening, Jack gave me one more example of how men and women think differently when the only comment he had about the way I looked in my bathing suit was …..hot.

Birthdays~

Hap-py Birth-day to meeeeee! Today is my actual birthday, as opposed to all those other times where I have extended my birthday. I like to think I am charmingly obnoxious about celebrating my birthday but I may just be plain ole obnoxious. No matter. Now that I am officially 32 I am too old to change.

Being a Tuesday and being that I love sleep more than anything, except Jack and pizza, celebrating this year will be less rockstar party and more slumber party. Donuts in my pjs with my Mom and my toddler friends. Pizza for lunch with Olive and my adorable nephews - still in my pjs. Dinner out with Jack -although probably not in pjs. Followed by presents and adoration til bed. Lovely.

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Floor Plans 2~

Lucky for all of you I am a waaaay better blogger than handyman. Also lucky for you....I am completely willing to make fun of myself and share my mistakes.

Today was the first serious day of floor work after my evening of demo. I built up my motivation, which took awhile, changed into destroyable clothes and stepped into the room. Then.....I immediately injured myself. I was using these scrubber things (the official term) to clean up all the crap on the surface if the floor and immediately shoved a sliver the size of a ballpoint pen into my finger. It hurt. I screamed. I pulled it out, sucked it up, and perservered. Unfortunately, I didn't learn anything and ten minutes later I put another sliver in - except this time I put it in so far that there wasn't an end left so I could pull it out. And it bled, and I cried, and I bandaided it up while whimpering like a baby....and then I sucked it up and perservered. Again. Despite my non-life-threatening injuries I managed to successfully clean all the guck (another official term) off the floor so it is smooth and clean - and I used my uninjured hand to pull up all the inside carpet staples. And that is all I got I got done. I still have crazy stains and spots everywhere BUT....I am making progress. This promises to be a lenghty project. Doh.

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Floor Plans~

So from time to time my brain snaps and I believe that I am adept at all things construction. Never mind that I have zero experience in anything that requires manual labor or that my avorite kind of project is one that is neatly wrapped up in four hours or less. However impractical, I have random moments of grandiose dreaming where I believe I know all.

Prime example. When Leah and I first moved in together we were sitting around - at like six o'clock in the evening mind you - when we decided we should paint our bedrooms. Not one of them, but both. Painting party! So we got on painting clothes, headed up the road to Menards where we spent at least an hour debating colors, came home and moved all the furniture and started painting......at eight o'clock at night. And not just plain painting - we got creative. One whole wall in my room is striped four different shades of blue - which looks really cool if you stand far away and ignore the fact that I freehanded it so I could do it all in one night instead off taping it off and being patient like a normal person. Leah painted her room green with drawn on circles and stencils. We were up for a very long time.

We get this trait from our dad. The entire time I was growing up my dad was always into some kind of project. These projects almost always were a surprise to my mom, who would come to find a random wall demolished or her cupboards all ripped out, the dreaded drop clothes spread out. However, my dad probably knew what he was doing most of the time - where I just think I do.

What prompted this blog? I ripped out my bedroom carpet last night at around seven o'clock. I was certain there was beautiful hard wood floor underneath so for three hours I moved furniture, yanked up carpet pulled upholstery nails, tore up padding, and generally made a mess. Underneath was a beautiful, old wood floor.....littered with spots and stains. Perhaps it was overly optimistic of me to assume a gorgeous floor was just sitting there waiting to be revealed, but now I have no carpet and a wood floor that requires more loving care than I think I am qualified to give. So I am going to give it my best shot - possibly rent a sander and play with it over the weekend. Perhaps try and shanghai Jack into helping me by offering up my body for the good of my floor. And if all else fails....I will shopping for area rugs Sunday night.

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Pre-birthday~

This year my family is unwittingly helping me extend my birthday celebration even longer. Just when I thought I had gotten as much mileage as possible out of my birth, I was once again shown that more is possible. The universe WANTS to celebrate my birthday in a spectacular way! Who am I to refuse?

Actually, the blame for my super early pre-birthday celebration falls on Lola's mother-in-law. We will affectionately dub her 'Stewie' in this blog for two reasons. One, she is a kick ass Martha Stewart kinda mom. Two, the character Stewie is the exact opposite of everything about her - which makes it a hilarious alias. I am going to laugh every time I see it. And that is what the blog is mainly about....amusing me.

Ok, I am slightly off topic....

So Stewie's family has a monthly family dinner where they celebrate everything for that month - and Lola loved the idea so much that we stole it. (Thievery runs in my family apparently) Because we decided to do ours the second Sunday of the month, my Jan 18 birthday began yesterday on the 10th....a full eight days early. Genius.

As if the eight day pre-birthday were not enough, I have guilted several of my sisters and friends into a girls night out on the 22nd....four days after my birthday. In between those twelve days I plan on talking Jack into drinking with me one night this weekend and having pizza and cake and drinks on my actual birthday. So I am getting in lots of celebration as well as gifting myself with a Nook, a pedicure, and a massage. I love January.

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2011~

2010...one very, very busy time in the life of this blogger. So much happened - with me and my family. New spouses, new babies, new relationships. It was a very full, very exciting, and very packed year. And I am sure that 2011 will not be any different. Here's hoping anyway~

I only have two resolutions for the new year. Because my life is pretty much perfect of course. Kidding. Kinda. But this is the year of simplifying so I am going to start that off right by keeping my resolutions simple. Last year I had many resolutions and did fairly well on all of them...this year I have few resolutions and I am going to rock them.

Resolution One:

Get my financial life organized and put some cash in my travel fund. That travel fund is my reward for getting organized. If I follow my budget the way I should then I should be able to go cruising around the Caymans next winter guilt free. If I don't follow it, then I will probably cruise around the Caymans with the guilt. Which is a prime example of why I am bad with money. I have zero self control. Wait...I HAD zero self control! This is a new year, new start. Now I magically have self control and am a budget queen. I forgot.

Resolution Two:

Get in shape enough to run the Warrior Dash without embarrassing myself or looking scary in stretchy workout gear. This is a 5k race with a dozen obstacles stretched throughout - things like jumping floating logs, climbing rope walls, and belly crawling in mud. And we get Viking helmets! Doesn't it sound like fun?? I think it sounds WAY cooler than a plain, boring, all running 5K. Also, it means I don't need to run straight for three miles - which I can't do anyway. My training plan is extremely flexible. Sometime during the week I will run on my elliptical and lift some arm weights. Notice there is no mention of how long or how many days or if I need to do this while eating an ice cream sandwich or not. In my new simple plan for 2011, I find it easier to set goals I know I can manage. Don't wanna stress myself out just to become a Viking Warrior for July. Because let's be really honest here...I am not going to get super buff and get recruited for someone's Viking team once they see my fantastic rope climbing skills. My goal is simply not to drown in the mud slide.

So there ya have it. Goodbye 2010 - thanks for the insanity and the fun and the new blessings. Welcome to 2011 - year of simplification, organization, and mediocre fitness.