tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51263974528909611632024-02-18T20:38:28.576-08:00fitzlosophyThe Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-33897750328299417002014-04-30T18:24:00.001-07:002014-05-01T04:11:44.471-07:00I Got YouConfession- I used to be a smug bastard-person. I'd see people with kids going bonkers in Target, or pitching tantrums regarding their perception of appropriate cupcake portions, or, gawdallmightyhelpus HITTING other kids and I would smile sympathetically on the outside but inwardly make that sneer face Cinderella's evil stepmother makes when those bitches tear Cinderella's dress apart. Smug. Smuggy Fitzsmugerson, with my total lack of experience divided by my calm knowledge that "I would never tolerate that sort of behavior"carry the 2 equals smugness. <br />
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Nothing pertaining to my experience with my first child did much to derail this smugness. In fact, I daresay my preternaturally "easy" child went a long way towards fanning the smug flames into a fire of...-barf-<barf>....<barf>subconscious self righteousness, that most tedious of attitudes. Having parented one small human through the so-called "Terrible Twos" and finding nothing all that terrible, I was serenely certain that my way of parenting was, in fact, The Right Way, and that if people with stinkers for kids would only sit at my feet and catch my pearls o' wisdom their little Damiens would transform into that kid from Jerry McGuire: amiable, yet charmingly precocious. Maybe with cute glasses.</barf></barf><br />
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And lo, the Lord did see my smugness and it did displease Him mightily and He sent unto me....Wesley. <br />
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Wes was my easiest birth. He came wailing into the world with a couple of pushes and me actually laughing at one point. He was a relatively mild baby, easy to nurse, quick to learn to speak his first words and crawl and walk, sweet and cuddly but also much more independent than Gwen. He fit nicely into my views on "Good parents make good kids!' <br />
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And then he hit 18 months. And the <i>shrieking</i>. The face-melting, macaque-like shrieking when he didn't get his way. That was the first crack in my veneer.<br />
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It turns out, he began the "Terrible Twos" about 6 months before schedule. The shrieking evolved into tantrums, hitting, throwing, and a general grumpiness that permeated most of his days. I pulled out all the tricks in my "loving but firm" arsenal- getting down on his level, eye contact, confident communication as I set "boundaries". "We don't hit, buddy! We don't throw things when we're mad, buddy! Hair is not for pulling! Hands are not for hitting!" Mommy needs a drinky. Because none of it seemed to make a damn bit of difference. <br />
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Wes was (and is) a law unto himself. In hindsight, I see that his mental capacity had out-paced his ability to communicate with us in a way that we could understand. He would have something he desperately wanted/needed/wished us to comprehend, and no matter how he tried he could not make us <i>see</i> it. And so, rage. Violence. A lot of time spent on the supermarket floor writhing about while I tried desperately to open a bag of Goldfish crackers to placate him. And by the way, in the middle of all of this, I got pregnant with Owen. Holy shit, you guys.<br />
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So now I was exhausted in addition to exasperated. And still we toiled. I read books. I scoured websites. We tried time-outs. We tried just doing whatever he wanted for an hour a day. Gentle play. Horse play. Ignoring bad behavior. Making him apologize for bad behavior. Time alone with Mom or Dad. Gentle discipline. Firm discipline. And only one thing ever really worked. And that one thing was TIME. <br />
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As he grows his verbal ability is growing with him. It sometimes felt painfully slow to us, parents of Gwendolyn who practically came out of the womb talking in full sentences. But every added word- every naming of a thing or emotion in a way recognizable to us is one more battle shut down before it happens. I know when he's thirsty now because he tells me. There's no need to hurl a sippy cup at my head. It is a study in meeting your child <i>where</i> they are, <i>when</i> they are- not at some predetermined mile-marker you got from an "expert" or from what your other kid did or what might be convenient to your life at the moment.<br />
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There was very little we could control besides hanging the hell in there, holding onto our patience with both hands, and having faith that we'd come out the other side with him. We weren't bad parents. We weren't weak or over-indulgent. We weren't too harsh or demanding too much. We were just parenting the child we were given to parent, as best we could. We couldn't magically turn our bear into a bunny, no matter how hard we tried to staple those big floppy ears to his hard head. <br />
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And I realize now that in all likelihood, all those parents my 20-something smug ass had been judging were simply along for the ride with their own challenging kid, sweaty and embarrassed at Target, hoping there were no smug assholes like young-me looking down their noses at things that they couldn't hope to control. So I'd like to say, "I'm sorry, moms. I was an ignorant dick. And I'm sorry."<br />
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This is not to say we are completely out of the woods. My Wes is still challenging- most recently refusing to nap at all which leaves us at around 4pm with a emotionally brittle nearly-three-year-old, just looking for an excuse to collapse. He still has a problem with even approaching the concept of "sharing". He still gets into everything (and I include, memorably, his own poopy diaper only yesterday. Ermagerd.) I still need to occasionally call my mom-friends to be reminded "It Gets Better". And may God above help me, we're about to begin potty training. <br />
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But there are good days now, days when he wakes up with a dimply smile, and tells me over and over "Thank you, Mom!" for some particular toy or favor that has tickled him. He honest-to-God <i>plays</i> with his big sister- laughing, jolly, rough-and-tumble play like I always dreamed of for them. And when he's having a really hard time, I can take him in my arms and hear him repeat to me the phrase I said so many times to him in those rough months when he was raging and flailing and making me question whether he loved me at all: "I got you. I got you, Mom." <br />
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I got you too baby, always.The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-7414319506494327972014-04-20T17:55:00.000-07:002014-04-20T19:33:46.260-07:00In Defense of Mr. and Mrs. Arendelle (Elsa's Ma and Pa)Hold God, with the Frozen stuff. I mean, really. Obviously, my 4 year old is, like all her cohorts, insanely obsessed with Disney's little flick about an emotionally repressed shut-in who has the power of ice (and also the power to create friggin life, but let's stick with ice for now because, like holy shite the implications of that, amiright?). This whole winter it was all videos of cute kids scream-singing Frozen, and my own actual cute kid scream-singing Frozen, and this weird-ass video which starts out in Africa but ends up at the local rec center and features tiny Marie Antoinette and the bad guy from "The Princess and the Frog":<br />
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And then <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/low_concept/2014/03/john_travolta_called_idina_menzel_adele_dazeem_what_s_your_travolta_name.html" target="_blank">Travolta with Adele Dazeem</a> and the feminists are debating whether Elsa and Anna are the <a href="http://chezapocalypse.com/thefrozenthing/" target="_blank">greatest heroines since Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Gloria Steinem</a> or instead <a href="https://medium.com/disney-and-animation/7c0bbc7252ef" target="_blank">make girls into derpy princess-worshiping moron people</a> and so much scream-singing and I'VE SEEN THIS MOVE 450 TIMES YOU GUYS. So I <i>think</i> about it, like way more than I need to. Let's begin from a place where I am aware none of the following matters and yet I'm blogging about it anyway because I have three kids under age 5 and don't sleep/get out much and this is the deepest stuff I have the capacity to think about right now, k?<br />
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One of the notions I've seen in commentary and blogs is how much Elsa and Anna's parents suck, having reacted to their daughter's incredible powers by locking her up in a room for all her formative years with a mandate to repress her emotions in order to control those powers, complete with cutesy rhyming pneumonic device to help her remember to hide her true nature and shove her feelings down into the place where ulcers are born. Like, essentially they've groomed her for her role as a basket-case barely keeping her shit together, who predictably breaks at the first test of her control and pretty much ruins everything (how many deaths are attributed to the freeze? In New York City, half a dozen people die every time it snows and we have plumbing and heat and Dominoes pizza delivery). So yeah, her parents suck. OR DO THEY?<br />
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Let's just break this thing down, from a parental POV. You're asleep in your giant royal bed. You are a head of state and you deal with heavy kingdom-ruling crap all day and besides, you've got two kids, so you really love sleeping, in a fervent, almost religious kind of way. You are awakened from this sleep by one of your beloved daughters screaming for you. You go hauling ass to the ball(?) room only to find the whole goddamn place is frosted over, your one kid is almost dead, and your other is apparently the cause of all of this. Really, it's very The Good Son:<br />
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So you go visit the local trolls (ok- pause- can we all agree the troll thing is just....not very well thought out? Like, they don't fit, I'm sorry. We are all in Norway or wherever and then we are just plunked down in Fraggle Rock a mere brisk gallop from the magic-phobic city? Feels a little shimmed in there, right? Anywho.) So the troll wizard/patriarch guy does the VAGUEST DESCRIPTION EVER of what's going on w/ Elsa and her powers. Like, he knows enough to be able to craft a Power Point presentation in the sky about the future, but not enough to simply say "Think happy thoughts, and you won't kill your whole family with your ice powers"? No, essentially what he does is say "DON'T BE AFRAID- OH, HERE'S A GLIMPSE OF YOUR ADULT SELF BEING CONSUMED BY RED FEAR-DEMONS! BWA HA HA!!" And then Mom and Dad come up with the great reduce-the-staff/ separate-the-sisters Rochester's wife plan, RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE TROLL. And does the troll say, "Naw, dog, just use love to counteract her powers!"? Nope. He just sends them on their way and presumably bills their insurance for the ice-removal from Anna's head. <br />
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So at this point, I'm thinking the parents are just doing the best they can with the information they have. Because A. They have to protect their youngest child. B. They must know that the reaction of most of their subjects to uncontrolled freakish ice-powers will be similar to this guy's:<br />
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C. They love Elsa and want to help her but literally have no tools whatsoever to do so thanks to Vaguest Troll. </div>
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I feel the Arendelles. The Arendelles, they are like 1980s parents. Confronted with the Gordian knot, they hack right on through. Daughter has dangerous ice-powers and can hurt people with them? Lock that ish down, teach daughter self-control, set it free and hope it all works out. Kids come home from school at 3 and you can't afford a sitter? Buy them some snacks, and tell them to put on She-ra, Princess of Power and lock the front door. You do what you gotta do and hope for the best, 80s style, like Don Johnson. And yeah, maybe your kids end up a little....<a href="https://www.facebook.com/nicole.fitzpatrick99" target="_blank">wonky</a>....but hey. They are alive. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Look, I'm not saying it was a perfect solution, but really, what were they supposed to do? "Conceal, don't feel" isn't going to sell any bumper stickers, but you know what, it kept her from killing anyone. It's the available remedy to an unresolvable situation, one that was destined to come to fruition no matter what they did to prevent it, because really, Elsa needed to break bad, so she could choose what sort of life she ultimately wanted to have. And also because if she didn't the movie would be called "Mild with Slight Chance of Showers" and be vastly less interesting. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">And really, they could have just abandoned her. Instead they halted their WHOLE LIVES to attend to her special needs in the only way they saw possible. They named her their heir. They loved her through the whole nightmare, despite being afraid both for and presumably of her. And despite their tireless work to keep both their kids and their kingdom safe, while all the time not thinking of their own personal safety as they continue to visit and instruct their daughter, when she went bonkers the first instinct the whole viewing audience had was to blame the parents. Aint that just the way?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">And plus *spoiler* they die in a freaking shipwreck. So I think they've suffered enough. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think those stones say, "Here's Lies the Arendelles. They did their best."</td></tr>
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PS: Just kidding, they do kind of suck. Gloves, Dad? Really? That's your plan?<br />
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<br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-30444580432310280202013-05-22T04:39:00.001-07:002013-05-22T04:39:19.619-07:00Let us pray....Gwen said the following at our dinner table last night, before we began eating:<br />
"Before we start eating I'd like to make an announcement! Dear Mom, I love you. You are nice to me and I would like you to come for a sleep over at my house. Thanks so much! In Jesus name, Gwendolyn."<br />
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Basically she cobbled together all forms of formal speech she'd ever heard (prayer, letter writing, announcements) and made her version of the St. Crispin's Day speech before we began our turkey chili. <br />
Inspiring and awesome. PLAY BALL!The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-16682879049704471322013-03-01T13:11:00.002-08:002014-04-18T05:47:14.300-07:00Cutting the Cord<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hoo boy, have we done it now. For the first time in about 4 years, we are going to live without cable television. This choice was made with two major considerations in mind: 1. Cable is mighty expensive, and with the new house we need to trim some fat from the budget. And 2. DEAR LORD THERE IS AN UNHOLY AMOUNT OF CRAP ON TV. Like seriously you guys, there is a reality show about competitive taxidermy. For reals: </div>
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Any who, we came up with a couple of alternatives. First, for only a little more than the cost of one month of our cable service we bought an Apple TV.</div>
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Basically it allows us to see content like Netflix, Hulu, etc. on our TV. And because it's in with the Apple Cult to which we are fervently devout, we can listen to our music on our computer, and anything we download via iTunes is available on all our devices (laptop, phones, iPad-if-we-had-one). So we are not bereft. <br />
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Granted, Gav is going to miss sports. But he can watch quite a bit on the computer and, well, life is pain, Princess. I think this will help keep our kids from being sold plastic piles of crap during their favorites shows and will help us to do more working on the house and less mulling over the woes of various Real Psychic Chef Runway Teen Moms of New York. And oh, there's that 100+ bucks a month. So yeah.<br />
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When I called the cable people to disconnect the guy acted like I was breaking up with him. He tried to plead with me ("Ma'am, don't you think you'll MISS your local news shows?") He tried to bribe me ("What if I can give you $75 at the end of a three month period?? THAT'S FREE MONEY, MA'AM!") Finally he resorted to scorn and sadness("I'm sorry, I just CAN'T BELIEVE you are not taking this deal. With all due respect, I just don't get it.") But finally, with a resigned sigh he sent a guy out to do the deed. <br />
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It's just been an hour since the roly-poly rosy-cheeked cable man took my DVR away, and...um....I <i>do</i> feel the beginnings of withdrawal. Like, how will I watch Ru Paul's Drag Race and learn who is America's Next Drag Superstar? Or find out if they'll pick house number 3 even though there's no double sink in the master bath?? <sigh> </sigh></div>
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I'm gonna go chew some gum and find some Steve Guttenberg movies on Netflix. Wish me luck.</div>
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The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-11106155977561578052013-02-13T06:56:00.000-08:002013-02-27T05:20:45.930-08:00HomeOh, sooo belated in writing this. But when you understand the scope of the past 2-3 months, you'll forgive us, won't you? Thanks!<br /><br />Ok, so where were we? After that brat Sandy came in and pooped in our applesauce, we (Gav and I) had about 10 minutes of feeling deflated and shoving our move-in date to "some time in Spring". You see, not only did we need to now work just to get us back to our pre-storm state, but everyone in my family who'd been helping us was now busily digging themselves out. <br /><br />But we could just not get comfortable with moving the time table for so many reasons: we had set our hearts on Christmas in the new house and Gavin's parents were flying out to spend the holiday with us to that end. It had been nearly nine months since we bought the place and those nine months had meant spending nearly every day off apart as one of us watched the kids while the other shlepped to the house to work. And frankly, I was just about at the end of my tether, straddling two lives and being in complete control of neither. And the biggest reason of all was a practical one- MaryJane and Michael (the Super Inlaws) flying out here meant we'd have live-in baby sitting during the move, which would damn near be impossible without it. My mom's house was gutted from Sandy, so without someone to watch the kids at our old place, we'd be S.O.L.<br /><br />So we made a big decision. We had the guys who were finishing our Sandy-repairs complete the walls. It killed our (5th) budget, and meant the impeccable job we envisioned for the taping was not likely, but it put us on track to be actually LIVING in the place we'd bought so long ago. Enough, as they say, was enough. <br /><br />In about 2 weeks time we had guys tape and prime the walls, the floor guy come in to finish all the floors, and another guy come in to install our new (!!!) lower kitchen cabinets. I used "all my skills, and all my powers" to convince a fraught-with-storm dig-out National Grid to get their butts to my house and get some gas turned on. Seriously, you guys, I ended up calling them dozens of times a day, got the cell number of a manager, flirted, cried, cajoled, whatever it took until there was a crew of hunky men digging a big hole in our yard and laying new gas lines. Heat! Hot water! BAZAAAHHH!!<br /><br />And then it was time for me to get serious on this house. Gav and I decided that just as the first half of the reno needed his "man strength", this second half needed...well...me. For six weeks I was there literally every spare minute of the day that I was not sleeping, working, or with my children. Every surface, and I literally mean EVERY surface needed to be cleaned, painted, and generally made ready for human habitation. My brother painted the ceilings so that when I came it was just walls and moulding to be done. And a rotating cast of friends and family (thank you Joy, Zac, Leigh, Kelsey, Joey, Kelli, and of course Uncle A) came in to have painting parties, nail-hole-filling parties, sink-installing parties until it started to feel that maybe, <i>maybe</i> we'd make our Christmas date. I attached duct work in the basement that had been left dangling, and thanked God for Google. Slowly, slooowly, our vision started to come into soft focus.<br /><br />To be sure, there were a few things that got done in a rather fly-by-night way. We paid some guy like 600 bucks to case all the windows in the house so that I wouldn't have ragged holes around them with insulation hanging out like a fiberglass goatee, and his work was....well....good enough for now. I slapped paint over things that were as ugly as Satan's heart and called it workable. There were doors that should have been sanded all the way down to bare wood for a perfectly even surface but by the time I got to that point, I didn't care if I was painting over a corpse, just to be done enough to MOVE THE HELL IN FOR GOD'S SWEET SAKE. But the progress in a short time was just startling nonetheless.<br /><br />The best part was to see things actually start to go IN the house, rather than come out. One day, there was a giant open shell of a kitchen, and the next, all my base cabinets were in. And the day after that, the marble arrived for the island top. I made the guys delivering said marble exceedingly nervous I'm sure by snapping pictures of them carrying the slab into the house, but I was so damn excited. It was like a new baby coming home from the hospital. Well, no, not like that, but lovely just the same. The day the floors were done I sat down on the steps and had a small cry. It was just so freaking beautiful after so much ugliness. We were almost there.<br /><div><br /><div><div>The day before my inlaws flew in my friend Zac and I had a tying-up-the-worst-of-the-loose-ends fest. We hung light fixtures, a learning experience for us both, but VOILA! the lights came on when we were done. And then on a whim I made a kamikaze run to Home Depot (where else? I feel like they're going to hang a picture of me up in that joint) to grab a late Christmas tree. The only one left that wasn't 3 feet tall was a shaggy 9 footer hunched over in a corner by itself. When I dragged it over to the guy who cuts the trunks he said "I was wonderin' who'd pick up that tree!" I felt like I'd saved a last-chance dog from the pound and happily crammed our shambling dinosaur tree into the back of our little SUV. It smells like pine sap to this very day.<br /><br /><div>And then the move-in day actually came. A cast of friends and family made it, dare I say,<i> easy</i>. My mom's church donated a truck and 3 strapping gents to help with lifting, and between them, my friends, and my intrepid inlaws who managed to entertain two small kids in a house of total chaos, we were in before 2 pm. Really, something I had absolutely dreaded for so long was the least painful part of the whole damn process.<br /><br /></div><div>And then Gavin drove back to pick the kiddos and their grandparents from Brooklyn while my friends and I ran around getting the house as "ready" as we could, so the first sight MJ and Michael had would be as perfect as I could muster. Because, well, of all wonderful people involved in this project, those two have been our rock. We simply could not, would not, have done any of it without them, and I will never forget the pride of getting to show them what their unwavering support had amounted to.<br /><br /></div><div>We flew around like manic elves, lighting the tree, cleaning the windows, even hanging garland and stockings on the stairs, and so when they pulled up that driveway, it felt as much like a home as we could muster. And after a tear-filled tour, and a million hugs, and neighbors who showed up with wine and eggs from their backyard chickens (!), we dug into Chinese food and prepared to sleep in the house we'd gotten the key to nine full months before, on December 21st, with 4 full days to spare before Christmas.<br /><br />On December 23rd, after much debate and trial and error (and a mental picture of what would happen if my poorly designed shelves were to collapse with all my china on them), we gave up on our "open shelving" concept for the kitchen and bought and installed the upper cabinets our damnselves. As an aside, before installing cabinets from Ikea, get yourself a nice pint of something strong. Drink half of it. Save the rest for after. <br /><br />On Christmas morning, we woke up in our own house. I mean, we literally slept under the Christmas tree, having given Gav's folks the bed, and saw our small children toddle down their own stairs into their own living room to open gifts. It was one of the best mornings of my life, and I can say now that this whole damn (ongoing) process has been utterly <i>worth it</i>. <br /><br /></div></div></div></div><div>This blog has been long and rambly and full of crap writing, because I'm trying to cram about a million things into one long overdue blogpost and because my kids are literally climbing my legs as I type. So I'll cut it off here and let the pictures say the rest. Below is some "befores" to get you in the mood, and then some "after a lot of progress" photos that show where we are now. There are endless projects to do before these rooms are "done" (like, I dunno, decorate and finish painting and hang curtains) but I wanted to show how far we've brought them since March of 2012. Oh, and I was gonna add some bedroom pictures too, but I hated how they came out (out of focus, bad angles), so stay tuned for those. Enjoy! :)<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7Tpnb2xL-4GZ7IqDORDNmqh5fNIcBiq8PVOOkKBPhoaLwEXOzBisl5khYaa6J3vyg5I-IxR0lgLePxZxHzGF537yJXhxm9uuUodeJI-Q3YFEWnsEOzm1hgHju8jUXlue9GAzHEVOChHT/s1600/DSC_5053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7Tpnb2xL-4GZ7IqDORDNmqh5fNIcBiq8PVOOkKBPhoaLwEXOzBisl5khYaa6J3vyg5I-IxR0lgLePxZxHzGF537yJXhxm9uuUodeJI-Q3YFEWnsEOzm1hgHju8jUXlue9GAzHEVOChHT/s640/DSC_5053.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foyer Before</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeh5YzFrtux0lF9yUDYDFTNlYAjDMDzKLG195sE50BgGYVqe7LsGrHzwk99pNgNNMQ-8vxQajAPl2Yd33vs9NhO094ArsE2-hA7vqi8OKMNFQJyNM52KjlI5weZEnQBsEleCeu5dHeAl-z/s1600/DSC_5527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeh5YzFrtux0lF9yUDYDFTNlYAjDMDzKLG195sE50BgGYVqe7LsGrHzwk99pNgNNMQ-8vxQajAPl2Yd33vs9NhO094ArsE2-hA7vqi8OKMNFQJyNM52KjlI5weZEnQBsEleCeu5dHeAl-z/s640/DSC_5527.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigao0axjbK20hmE465xEzKWOc8iWrDFeZYxOl_ZodlKP3SEp3pFza4gcTKPgk00b6dtNM2wF2zyGkaD9GtQhans9_UEdPGlrozMN_EBN0WKWD8InqhrXD6sa0ezTijC4187BXWKSwUt01j/s1600/DSC_5054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigao0axjbK20hmE465xEzKWOc8iWrDFeZYxOl_ZodlKP3SEp3pFza4gcTKPgk00b6dtNM2wF2zyGkaD9GtQhans9_UEdPGlrozMN_EBN0WKWD8InqhrXD6sa0ezTijC4187BXWKSwUt01j/s640/DSC_5054.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stairs Before</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOchEyLGjBlE_6Z3FoBcUQHMWxgkZk7cnovdQKzzFkMY6174kDh5VAxln70UC4LSDf1gVFtL53z6WPU4AaooDIxNv5Ilw6CUwEN0R9oH3ki_ky_tuRChWWSbHm6vczbvFmRO3sNuojud8j/s1600/DSC_5557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOchEyLGjBlE_6Z3FoBcUQHMWxgkZk7cnovdQKzzFkMY6174kDh5VAxln70UC4LSDf1gVFtL53z6WPU4AaooDIxNv5Ilw6CUwEN0R9oH3ki_ky_tuRChWWSbHm6vczbvFmRO3sNuojud8j/s640/DSC_5557.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And after four thousand hours of painting!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__htN0r4gNiyIgp1rbdn4nU6ZbrGMr1IOfUhyIkuVhpxm-46xBv4qL32VyDUA_4WADtsjkKxaM8T05IvLlTAroLqOdScD5Qj_FJpEjib5d5PMF0DOqUpMptMF6EFecqgAVM9Z6QbYfG2W/s1600/DSC_5062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__htN0r4gNiyIgp1rbdn4nU6ZbrGMr1IOfUhyIkuVhpxm-46xBv4qL32VyDUA_4WADtsjkKxaM8T05IvLlTAroLqOdScD5Qj_FJpEjib5d5PMF0DOqUpMptMF6EFecqgAVM9Z6QbYfG2W/s640/DSC_5062.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Foyer view Before</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_-uly-ukQ-gc4VEmXVTc6Vg1oTQEWlT_yiYLc_jjbw9INkgk93dAOpXOMHylgpnvRV3JlN1iU4m-oS76ojRaFd_H07qMhxvBbhh_OgiQp1x6gAT3_F1BJPC7mb__nskABs2u-P8df7M8/s1600/DSC_5558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_-uly-ukQ-gc4VEmXVTc6Vg1oTQEWlT_yiYLc_jjbw9INkgk93dAOpXOMHylgpnvRV3JlN1iU4m-oS76ojRaFd_H07qMhxvBbhh_OgiQp1x6gAT3_F1BJPC7mb__nskABs2u-P8df7M8/s640/DSC_5558.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now- holy crap, so much brighter!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xsrDq-BdhIFR0ISrYPSVCzdFa-Ccd6-a_kalABTyn-Z6Ob8-FDBROO8X65TPFBYXe20FoTEYkYvJh1yNUt52Jq2YumnfQqjE9F6Zx7POgtVKp0aZbySOwViajL3lb0x4w55IE-WwwVJy/s1600/DSC_5512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xsrDq-BdhIFR0ISrYPSVCzdFa-Ccd6-a_kalABTyn-Z6Ob8-FDBROO8X65TPFBYXe20FoTEYkYvJh1yNUt52Jq2YumnfQqjE9F6Zx7POgtVKp0aZbySOwViajL3lb0x4w55IE-WwwVJy/s640/DSC_5512.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv72ovCiaw-f0Z1oRd730SyfhkJmj-UYdEK8_Fqme4lGNpslJO-APRs0UewTQEDGMnrqm2N-1QUhS_rhywxfZPd6f4KmTvdJ18hbVxpcbYFSPBAdWE-LMEbuaN3zgBd7myMbWMQTcRhuAE/s1600/DSC_5057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv72ovCiaw-f0Z1oRd730SyfhkJmj-UYdEK8_Fqme4lGNpslJO-APRs0UewTQEDGMnrqm2N-1QUhS_rhywxfZPd6f4KmTvdJ18hbVxpcbYFSPBAdWE-LMEbuaN3zgBd7myMbWMQTcRhuAE/s640/DSC_5057.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from living room through pocket doors Before</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5euxa-b7dGpBbIxvGVg8Rs0HdHKkgxKgZ7kty9sS6kYjeM3N9arThRsqyzD_g_rM8JDFPhu2HWV2muN84WFXGyHeqXfFhdRdcRcERbr6IT8KqNQaJNW6VICkGqKQSq_4TMu5oC5AyTxK/s1600/DSC_5593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5euxa-b7dGpBbIxvGVg8Rs0HdHKkgxKgZ7kty9sS6kYjeM3N9arThRsqyzD_g_rM8JDFPhu2HWV2muN84WFXGyHeqXfFhdRdcRcERbr6IT8KqNQaJNW6VICkGqKQSq_4TMu5oC5AyTxK/s640/DSC_5593.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now. Don't worry, the doors are still in pockets (but not yellow)!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwBC6eAl1VUaTKwdJ82igP9CIj2Qe0AdYHRYhFfRnxyrImmEalFA2mZkALhptXNpxO0XP0IZEzYJ0CYzujHAsnF4lorESWQ6XW7J9fVMaNEOrGxOgyYlVzt-_MZGJSZd4cY4Oq-sf9pufO/s1600/DSC_5056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwBC6eAl1VUaTKwdJ82igP9CIj2Qe0AdYHRYhFfRnxyrImmEalFA2mZkALhptXNpxO0XP0IZEzYJ0CYzujHAsnF4lorESWQ6XW7J9fVMaNEOrGxOgyYlVzt-_MZGJSZd4cY4Oq-sf9pufO/s640/DSC_5056.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dining room before...</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgI7cfZi-8m1tSqIn3C3X5zUlkmKZrW_7FuDDmftbVSg3b5meCPr7ZXpMf1m6CC0oaaU6qKBh0ndeJ5VykEo1s0I64KBj5U-HIeWB-ON24AMmWBGjXPMuQN1J8Ox7GjM5YEzp5KNUQopzv/s1600/DSC_5437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgI7cfZi-8m1tSqIn3C3X5zUlkmKZrW_7FuDDmftbVSg3b5meCPr7ZXpMf1m6CC0oaaU6qKBh0ndeJ5VykEo1s0I64KBj5U-HIeWB-ON24AMmWBGjXPMuQN1J8Ox7GjM5YEzp5KNUQopzv/s640/DSC_5437.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now, complete with Wes photobomb! And sliiightly crooked family pictures..</td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7kEdmgSKeu_jf-KyHo04skOuiOj6G7W7dHkEeGKpzbMUSJVZsuO7GFFBzkhRc-yhCkjsvhpjOeZ_R-35Hul9Cbq11mi5KpHF_F1Za4i1TlM6TCvaUW9i4cH32NaO07cxE8KG61nF1FSb/s1600/DSC_5583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7kEdmgSKeu_jf-KyHo04skOuiOj6G7W7dHkEeGKpzbMUSJVZsuO7GFFBzkhRc-yhCkjsvhpjOeZ_R-35Hul9Cbq11mi5KpHF_F1Za4i1TlM6TCvaUW9i4cH32NaO07cxE8KG61nF1FSb/s1600/DSC_5583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7kEdmgSKeu_jf-KyHo04skOuiOj6G7W7dHkEeGKpzbMUSJVZsuO7GFFBzkhRc-yhCkjsvhpjOeZ_R-35Hul9Cbq11mi5KpHF_F1Za4i1TlM6TCvaUW9i4cH32NaO07cxE8KG61nF1FSb/s640/DSC_5583.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Living room into dining room</td></tr></tbody></table></a><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhGynvMF-j6Mrk_xk8_-XxoihG1qu4ARSeo42nuH62SRIiGaR0J_DBH9-eVokWC2nCHCPveaGiRjxXiBOZ4sWqnlNnObGH7hY1OMjQibo02wqIA9lcsaf2ciKtZ95d5EoAZrkz0W0kNQj/s1600/DSC_5504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhGynvMF-j6Mrk_xk8_-XxoihG1qu4ARSeo42nuH62SRIiGaR0J_DBH9-eVokWC2nCHCPveaGiRjxXiBOZ4sWqnlNnObGH7hY1OMjQibo02wqIA9lcsaf2ciKtZ95d5EoAZrkz0W0kNQj/s640/DSC_5504.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from dining room into kitchen. This was once the wall with the buckling chimney, etc.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0wVYeTgDfOlAL9QCRvYdFmXLbYcElOJbTM8w3JSAjJn_Xuj97pq-pCf-Jqvoot2KghEi8DaPDwddIg722G9iYW8L3n8-J8cJXxIU_6JP4lf9foV0hclmXpoMF6wU9TSgS-ZuZYDknAH4/s640/kitchen.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen Before (blech)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0wVYeTgDfOlAL9QCRvYdFmXLbYcElOJbTM8w3JSAjJn_Xuj97pq-pCf-Jqvoot2KghEi8DaPDwddIg722G9iYW8L3n8-J8cJXxIU_6JP4lf9foV0hclmXpoMF6wU9TSgS-ZuZYDknAH4/s1600/kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivljMvLx5pjL7MowhSms_t09PYEii9QWgBbCMBPpYmi7bk4BTWCyQwgo8xMXn1N6sxxIbzSMUUI7Yo5t6n2Z9YBWzQOVa7OuA8Gk3TG7t37RZsT-tBn0pRtHWqGoASVLPFdhxWGLGspDB8/s1600/DSC_5461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivljMvLx5pjL7MowhSms_t09PYEii9QWgBbCMBPpYmi7bk4BTWCyQwgo8xMXn1N6sxxIbzSMUUI7Yo5t6n2Z9YBWzQOVa7OuA8Gk3TG7t37RZsT-tBn0pRtHWqGoASVLPFdhxWGLGspDB8/s640/DSC_5461.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen now! I did the tile a couple of weeks ago but still need to grout it and install range hood...</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjMhYiCTbVMeaVZPMtgN4QyoqXwZqpDrF6QwunwBORggImktqp96Z_nFbWozx4_LaX0JW_fHhEtJ7w-o5v3mTjpawG4Hxr1UN0EyC35cA43MAIR_YS_4xdXKCPMf-6CbnLECJvgNHJfZN/s640/DSC_5472.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Sink!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjMhYiCTbVMeaVZPMtgN4QyoqXwZqpDrF6QwunwBORggImktqp96Z_nFbWozx4_LaX0JW_fHhEtJ7w-o5v3mTjpawG4Hxr1UN0EyC35cA43MAIR_YS_4xdXKCPMf-6CbnLECJvgNHJfZN/s1600/DSC_5472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjMhYiCTbVMeaVZPMtgN4QyoqXwZqpDrF6QwunwBORggImktqp96Z_nFbWozx4_LaX0JW_fHhEtJ7w-o5v3mTjpawG4Hxr1UN0EyC35cA43MAIR_YS_4xdXKCPMf-6CbnLECJvgNHJfZN/s1600/DSC_5472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKRULpZzvciu7EdGwQc73EhvTXUhsvYG1th6Hgohqd3ZMWhBfs39JKFibJYCSGnR2Chq8wc2FzDYLG9X5geiSZEZzIURPp7r9BNRhtbyRvDgNGRPCgD9wTll7En798hf7Ay-Q7RHvc1lBf/s1600/DSC_5576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKRULpZzvciu7EdGwQc73EhvTXUhsvYG1th6Hgohqd3ZMWhBfs39JKFibJYCSGnR2Chq8wc2FzDYLG9X5geiSZEZzIURPp7r9BNRhtbyRvDgNGRPCgD9wTll7En798hf7Ay-Q7RHvc1lBf/s640/DSC_5576.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's important to have standards...</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQS_ENAjMIQ_YYo-LmBkC_jtKxlcmB6Dbv7FPWQl86QVd_R01Liz0ZUv4LE-1u_OII8p-AkXX616Z2LqQ30DFrJaW3XcbLdLS0Lk8KmWjyfD8xuaEh6CFDJ08qnvLsOrWM03rfQp85TxXw/s1600/DSC_5543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQS_ENAjMIQ_YYo-LmBkC_jtKxlcmB6Dbv7FPWQl86QVd_R01Liz0ZUv4LE-1u_OII8p-AkXX616Z2LqQ30DFrJaW3XcbLdLS0Lk8KmWjyfD8xuaEh6CFDJ08qnvLsOrWM03rfQp85TxXw/s640/DSC_5543.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emmy seeks out the sun...</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmVphE5HFHQCnrxSVcGHGAOqMd__yMcAHrj_0CdtqUERj1dfq2wiU-3xddVx8SVMenLr-Dp_4nT-xFMdrz_qad8JNLFjsz8Xf-WJlURp5_baoTv2DNKAN5r9MWjTc8jy0oqDbeXBOtXr4/s1600/DSC_5072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmVphE5HFHQCnrxSVcGHGAOqMd__yMcAHrj_0CdtqUERj1dfq2wiU-3xddVx8SVMenLr-Dp_4nT-xFMdrz_qad8JNLFjsz8Xf-WJlURp5_baoTv2DNKAN5r9MWjTc8jy0oqDbeXBOtXr4/s640/DSC_5072.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bathroom before- try not to puke.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGjE7cEYCJk0_pc-wnU2lk4bLR4se8QzglAmv5UTxtgKCDpem12JmnAEabK7adBvA2iR9-1Ng_iJLybRUxTBQc0_g4ob9H398YUGdHW5n8F0SSH5RruBI6jWiuP6dPJ8t6sdZPMzBzj_To/s1600/DSC_5626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGjE7cEYCJk0_pc-wnU2lk4bLR4se8QzglAmv5UTxtgKCDpem12JmnAEabK7adBvA2iR9-1Ng_iJLybRUxTBQc0_g4ob9H398YUGdHW5n8F0SSH5RruBI6jWiuP6dPJ8t6sdZPMzBzj_To/s640/DSC_5626.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now! Bright, white, and clean! And with our shampoo on the windowsill ruining picture(derp)!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-19395505641546862912012-11-17T19:17:00.000-08:002013-02-27T05:20:45.964-08:00SandyI will preface the following with this: we are lucky. Beyond lucky- blessed, privileged, and in no way entitled to pity or assistance or anything like that. People all around us have been literally devastated by this storm, and by bitching about our experience I in no way mean to trivialize what those folks have been through and are digging out from. <br /><br />So basically our storm experience was that many of the old trees around our property came down, domino style, with one big old tree belonging to our neighbors falling and starting a sort of chain reaction that led to 6 trees in our backyard, and a 75ish footer actually on our roof. We didn't flood since we are, thank God, far above the flood table, and we never really lost power. The roof ended up with about 6 puncture holes from the tree that hit it, and of course we have tons and tons of lumber to clean up. The Nor'Easter that blew in the following week did manage to get some snow in the roof holes, but the water damage wasn't too bad.<br /><br />If I seem stilted in the writing of this it's that I can't put much of a spin on it- this thing sucked, you guys. My Mom's house had 6 feet of water in the main living space. My brother's rental house is likely condemned. Two of my cousins are gutting entire floors of their homes. Many businesses in our town were destroyed and many people are still without power and heat since they have to be re-wired due to the water in basements where their junction boxes and heating equipment were. <br /><br />Our own small inconveniences (the subways were closed and Gavin walked into Manhattan over the bridge to get to work, we weren't able to get gas for our car until three weeks post storm, etc.) pale in comparison to those who lost homes, lost livelihoods, lost family. But all of it combined to create the surreal atmosphere of actually walking around a literal disaster area, and the feeling of vulnerability to your basic sense of security that comes with that.<br /><br />The lighter notes- we got most of our damage dealt with already. The roof has been patched and looks as good as new. We had to go the cheap route for the clean-up, since insurance doesn't cover removing debris (!), but the trees have been chopped up and stacked in the backyard for later disposal (some for our fire pit, some to help heat my mom's house, some to ultimately be chipped for mulch when we tackle the yard). <br /><br />We've begun regaining some of the pre-storm momentum, and lots of work has been done this week in the (probably naive, but tis the Season, yes?) hope that we can still be moved in by Christmas.<br /><br />Our main issue now is that the gas company is so inundated with issues from the storm that getting them to deal with us has been a challenge. I'm ready to send them pictures of our kids looking into the camera with sad eyes at this point (maybe with a c-note in envelope) to get our gas turned on. Heat! Hot Water! MAKE IT SO!!<br /><br />So we'll see. Cautiously optimistic. I'll post a far more shiny happy blog next week...Spoiler Alert: Our FLOORS ARE GETTING DONE!!<br /><br />Anywho, here's a Sandy photo- montage:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggY-fhXXmFIDMKO47orJfO-OWamatMvtN_PHlcy28xlGz1CCrWFH9DWs_CGQ3eKzb9foOiz7Q_-ooexzBTtSSvaSwlRAMiEDJ3v5rXj2XPhf4JLCdUdUl1T2A4RKmmV4Q1Lk4HqtKIdg3r/s1600/IMG_2075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggY-fhXXmFIDMKO47orJfO-OWamatMvtN_PHlcy28xlGz1CCrWFH9DWs_CGQ3eKzb9foOiz7Q_-ooexzBTtSSvaSwlRAMiEDJ3v5rXj2XPhf4JLCdUdUl1T2A4RKmmV4Q1Lk4HqtKIdg3r/s320/IMG_2075.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That big tree on top of the house? Yeah, it's literally on TOP of the house.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpN82eDGKwNZvkJ3MlswmZDily6IdvdIc1oYlTuPpHvldRTq8G3z5jPk4BFTy4a6eVmZXRTz1hK-7xcYhnSQb-7rdS1UWQeBumxJA7ptUJdXwqPOxUi0C1b2T3ODd0gmb0BVMiZmfWmFO/s1600/IMG_2078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpN82eDGKwNZvkJ3MlswmZDily6IdvdIc1oYlTuPpHvldRTq8G3z5jPk4BFTy4a6eVmZXRTz1hK-7xcYhnSQb-7rdS1UWQeBumxJA7ptUJdXwqPOxUi0C1b2T3ODd0gmb0BVMiZmfWmFO/s320/IMG_2078.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCaTwk7RbJ5L9XKvaOox1JwJNKGixjqokW8HjZ-z0JmTi_m-Ekjlx5G7VlgPEB85zPFrpZMTfpZjDJIrf8xfegfjz82_P9Gmu-3GyGAb7nF_RjiRvUecgFCZ674EKZd_5jiS-gROoP4by/s1600/IMG_2080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCaTwk7RbJ5L9XKvaOox1JwJNKGixjqokW8HjZ-z0JmTi_m-Ekjlx5G7VlgPEB85zPFrpZMTfpZjDJIrf8xfegfjz82_P9Gmu-3GyGAb7nF_RjiRvUecgFCZ674EKZd_5jiS-gROoP4by/s320/IMG_2080.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the master bedroom</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj773p0it-PmXFSKmXzmqyLPtTJk6RJVAlyUmxd0Ej9oUcHKtDB0dlHq6SCOiQI5X5ZaY1yPpROWYCkrLyUnG_r1By7G2wi9eN12niyqYiBNY0OObFFxEdqXnfCCIkexcNDpAah_PqPlkzI/s1600/IMG_2082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj773p0it-PmXFSKmXzmqyLPtTJk6RJVAlyUmxd0Ej9oUcHKtDB0dlHq6SCOiQI5X5ZaY1yPpROWYCkrLyUnG_r1By7G2wi9eN12niyqYiBNY0OObFFxEdqXnfCCIkexcNDpAah_PqPlkzI/s320/IMG_2082.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is usually our driveway...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcmIkWvy10UuGCe6yK8Xs3WmSiezoNBvBEEZZ1o0ZLzxQy7beEG2XpdIwzhyW8PK1GKEkx4B5gxxKRauLiy42lf6W5L2BN5R2PuZyQyxkYOI3p7xhYBNaR_NP0kfRgrbOKQ50gz7BElQj/s1600/IMG_2089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcmIkWvy10UuGCe6yK8Xs3WmSiezoNBvBEEZZ1o0ZLzxQy7beEG2XpdIwzhyW8PK1GKEkx4B5gxxKRauLiy42lf6W5L2BN5R2PuZyQyxkYOI3p7xhYBNaR_NP0kfRgrbOKQ50gz7BElQj/s320/IMG_2089.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQByH3u3U_rIY4L1LC0jashdYbHM-j3gOkKXGkVvohcKIMNFg-4jmmUREUJPVOHNFbLvLVlD2tNzZZxw63lrMu9oL86oBKmi8W0Oc7C2VcEguXgt-mJJry6PodWBsiXbWhs4tBsHf9mIRS/s1600/IMG_2123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQByH3u3U_rIY4L1LC0jashdYbHM-j3gOkKXGkVvohcKIMNFg-4jmmUREUJPVOHNFbLvLVlD2tNzZZxw63lrMu9oL86oBKmi8W0Oc7C2VcEguXgt-mJJry6PodWBsiXbWhs4tBsHf9mIRS/s320/IMG_2123.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0fY8gJ0cWsbICewL_FXWyNn9FdRbDbYUTtempU4mQrYH28YpfgCLoZsAvYYBgr-fjiKG8VKCBa7XnILt7dJG3jDps37YKjygaSKWSr0SAI9rKy7lib_SAbrE67gBQQRVXtXnvG0xGPvF/s1600/DSC_5278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0fY8gJ0cWsbICewL_FXWyNn9FdRbDbYUTtempU4mQrYH28YpfgCLoZsAvYYBgr-fjiKG8VKCBa7XnILt7dJG3jDps37YKjygaSKWSr0SAI9rKy7lib_SAbrE67gBQQRVXtXnvG0xGPvF/s320/DSC_5278.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fitz and Fitz Fine Lumber Inc.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-55395172095840182732012-11-17T18:42:00.000-08:002012-11-18T10:20:59.690-08:00My BoyWhen I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do was dig out my "baby book"- the little album where my mom recorded my milestones, stuck my hospital bracelet- all that parental jazz. My siblings each had one too, but with each subsequent kid, there was less in the book. I now think I understand why- it was more than just a lack of time with each child or that a new baby is no longer novel after the first. It's that when you are immersed completely in the day to day existence of not one but two or more small humans, after you finally tuck them into bed at night and wearily pick up the clothes, cheerios, and assorted tiny foot-killing toys scattered about your floor, you become, for a couple of hours before your own bedtime, YOU again- the individual you. The you who goes to the bathroom in privacy, the you who swears (too much) and drinks a glass of wine and maybe has a couple of friends drop by to watch zombies eat people on tv. <br />
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It's not that this you loves your kids any less, or even that this you is any less absorbed in their every breath (I still sneak in to check on my 3 year old every night and lay my hand on her back to feel her rising and falling breath). But being this version of you for a couple of hours is what re-charges yourself for the next day, for the next round of being a SOURCE for someone else; a source of comfort, knowledge, food, tushy-wiping. You <i>love</i> giving to these little people- you love it more than anything you've ever been privileged to do, but if you don't collect and reassemble that essential you, there simply isn't anything left to divvy up amongst them. Sooo...this is my long winded way of saying that some days the friggin' last thing I want to do post kid bedtime is write about them! But this has short-changed me.<br />
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My sweet, sweet Wes. My darling dimpled little boy. I feel like I have scrimped on the chronicling of his first year. So to make up as much as I can for lost time, here's 10 things about Wesley:<br />
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1. He cries inconsolably at the part in Lady and the Tramp where they yell at Lady, and the part where the dogs are sad in the pound. His little shoulders begin to heave, and his lower lip quivers, and the next thing you know he's just in pieces and I scoop him up and cuddle him until the dogs are all happy again. He's only 15 months old and I can see his good, kind heart just beaming out of him.<br />
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2. He is in love with a blue blanket square that has a bear head sewed on it that we call "Claude". Claude came into being when Wes as a tiny infant would rake his little sharp nails over his face until he had something soft to rub between his hands. I told Gavin to get him a "lovey" and he came home with our blue friend, who is called "Claude" since it prevents Wes from "clawing" his face. Claude is carried around much of the day, and whenever Wes is feeling blue his holds it up to his nose for a quick "hit". If I dare launder it (which we MUST do from time to time, as you can imagine how dingy this thing can get what with Wes dragging it through the dogs water, or the mud, or peanut butter and jelly) he gives it a sniff and throws it down in disgust and rejection (but not for long).<br />
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3. He poops like 40 times a day. What. Are we feeding. This kid?<br />
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4. He says "DADA!" when he's happy to see anyone come through the door having associated Dada coming home from work as a wonderful thing.<br />
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5. He sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night to laugh hysterically, and anything I do to lay him back down and get him back to sleep results in more insane laughing.<br />
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6. He knows many words. I was told that since he's a boy not to expect him to be as verbal as Gwendy but he's really an incredible imitator of sound.<br />
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7. He likes to walk around with a Matchbox Car in each fat little hand and hope you'll ask him about it: "Whatcha got, buddy?"<br />
"CAR! VROOOOM!!" and then he rubs said cars on his tummy.<br />
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8. He is huge. Like wearing size 24 months at age 15 months. Gavin's hoping for professional basketball. I'm hoping we can afford to keep him in shoes.<br />
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9. He loves to read like no baby I've ever seen. He comes up to you with a board book and hits you with it repeatedly shouting "BOOK! BOOOOOK!" until you capitulate and then he chortles smugly as you settle him on your lap. His current favorites are "Are You My Mother?", "The Story Of Ferdinand", and "The Best Book of Sharks". That last one requires a lot of skipping around as it is a science book written for school age kids.<br />
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10. I love him, in a completely separate yet equally mind-blowing way from the way I love Gwen. I love Wes for Wes. For his bravery and silliness and goofy reckless way of getting into things and his volcanic temper and his sweet shy smiles and for falling asleep while I hold him every so often. <br />
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So here's hoping I set aside some more chunks of time to chronicle my sweet kiddos, because when I look back over the past three years and read what I've written, it's a little terrifying how fast the time is flying. I only get to borrow these children for a spell, before they become their own people and write their own stories. While I get to be the author, I'd better write it down.<br />
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<br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-64387421969085256862012-09-30T19:29:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:45.972-08:00The PushIn early September my awesome sauce mother-in-law came out from California to watch the<br />baybehs so that Gavin and I could make a big push forward on the house. Specifically the time had come (FINALLY!) to put up the walls. A giant boom truck came to the house and delivered over 200 boards of drywall -half of which was flown in through an upstairs window via a giant crane (!) so as to save the epic shlep of the boys carrying it all upstairs. I was mercifully kiddo-wrangling the day it arrived but I am told a great deal of man-power was spent carrying the downstairs boards in- they are heavy and awkward and yeah, I'm glad I was a good 30 miles away...<br /><br />But once they were there the time had come to get them hung. And I had like, a bizillion little (big) projects that had been nagging at me since we closed on this monster that I wanted to dig into, and having a sitter for a whole week was like a gift from God.<br /><br />We got So. Much. Done. The biggest impact was by far having those walls going up again- all that lovely white light filling up the place made us realize how dismal the gutted, brown-and-taupe of the exposed beams and insulation truly was. It's so much easier to be optimistic when things look clean and new! My uncles worked tirelessly as always and as always I don't have words for how grateful I am for them. (BTW, I recommend clicking on photos should you wish to biggify them...)<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzOoSpMIoWLftYePDtg3rlDiMCbk5ebNF60BFC9WXF0eL3tuPu_K0JLJDk6dvuy8ZMeZLO07LbKWQVIDpd-8I5VJfj4_4ay4fqIZsH_3Q8LWPMsNhjKxEiQT3D2eWa53-3LAogN5tydWd/s1600/DSC_5197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzOoSpMIoWLftYePDtg3rlDiMCbk5ebNF60BFC9WXF0eL3tuPu_K0JLJDk6dvuy8ZMeZLO07LbKWQVIDpd-8I5VJfj4_4ay4fqIZsH_3Q8LWPMsNhjKxEiQT3D2eWa53-3LAogN5tydWd/s400/DSC_5197.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gavin and his new favorite toy: The Impact Gun</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwvzJiudAG_oy6yfWw0SobPu1tu1Av0oXfUvsU-YvIk5AUbVZliRcd6o-ytHH3NJkhOkfuVXfXyVgVOi0php_aZl40tbtGWFC96a6iPCyDkf3mTuNV3a2JhyqroR0YCHKEqAbjEH2ipXi/s1600/DSC_5267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwvzJiudAG_oy6yfWw0SobPu1tu1Av0oXfUvsU-YvIk5AUbVZliRcd6o-ytHH3NJkhOkfuVXfXyVgVOi0php_aZl40tbtGWFC96a6iPCyDkf3mTuNV3a2JhyqroR0YCHKEqAbjEH2ipXi/s400/DSC_5267.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After walls!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRlmeyBFBBADRB2eLEK2arXHxhpmzVL25UsmaibkewsMZoy1x1DMMGSkodEH5dOr4QMcmKIr2FDy4gg9SQSNliWDaOiqDlKI-T09wYTKtplWzhA1DpsL6myZNx-KiLEPNuKFs0ZoSeVPk/s1600/DSC_5204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRlmeyBFBBADRB2eLEK2arXHxhpmzVL25UsmaibkewsMZoy1x1DMMGSkodEH5dOr4QMcmKIr2FDy4gg9SQSNliWDaOiqDlKI-T09wYTKtplWzhA1DpsL6myZNx-KiLEPNuKFs0ZoSeVPk/s400/DSC_5204.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone pitching in- my friend Zac even took the train in from <br />Brooklyn to help- What a guy!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrG_haptIiHqGWm0_N9QnJg2o2adXBzyos91UW270H9kZzWDAO6nO2NXSWKdm1Cj5DlXgmHYrnZVQQ85zUDrYO_xgymCfcz8CaZBDrkOl6UqVHGQvvkUQMiMjUlHH2afq_S44R8or33OuF/s1600/DSC_5211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrG_haptIiHqGWm0_N9QnJg2o2adXBzyos91UW270H9kZzWDAO6nO2NXSWKdm1Cj5DlXgmHYrnZVQQ85zUDrYO_xgymCfcz8CaZBDrkOl6UqVHGQvvkUQMiMjUlHH2afq_S44R8or33OuF/s400/DSC_5211.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overcoming my fear of power-tools....</td></tr></tbody></table>And I finally tackled (and tamed) the hopeless kitchen floor. If you remember, we'd peeled up about three layers of old linoleum only to find glue and paper stuck to the hardwood. The first day I tried a citrus-stripper and paint scraper to get it off but it was an endless, pointless nightmare. Seriously, that glue was so tenacious I wonder why they didn't just make the whole house out of the stuff... I slept on it and did some googling and finally found a method that worked- using my clothes iron and a wet rag I steamed section by section and scraped off all that nasty paper and adhesive bit by bit. There is some discoloration and warping just under the sink but we will repair that and then stain the whole thing nice and dark so you won't see the flaws. <br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVffSx7_W8JKJHaaPULs24q6GPiowfevsNwwecvRefyF5WN1kOTsyxKKtZcv7ZANFVy2_hn5zc6TZnyuuPLcDFtfb2MCkv-kltLsncrECSqqNHHLo5KEj5ISnN_Rw9s91PqPEdFHLw-2nh/s1600/DSC_5191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVffSx7_W8JKJHaaPULs24q6GPiowfevsNwwecvRefyF5WN1kOTsyxKKtZcv7ZANFVy2_hn5zc6TZnyuuPLcDFtfb2MCkv-kltLsncrECSqqNHHLo5KEj5ISnN_Rw9s91PqPEdFHLw-2nh/s400/DSC_5191.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ironing the Floor= Good Times!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>OH! And the week before the big push my Uncle A put a major hurting on the bathroom. He tiled the floor in my beloved penny round chosen and purchased months ago. Then he installed the toilet (THANK GOD!), the vanity and sink combo, and the wainscoting. The difference between the bathroom now and the dingy nightmare-hole that was there previously gives me heart palpitations and every so often I look at a picture of it to give me strength. My name is Nicole and I am addicted to my new bathroom (Hello, Nicole!).<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqd5QscTQBWf0C7byuStglcfVpUTupw8BOW-1y5tDVKBfHfyLPc20drHmCQRmOuIlO-uPZ5s2xerZoh3V2c0Bb8P-FxVaOsYZrQ8Gd8oq_jyv5WczRkZ7Gntqkw7FaYwWcMAcYgfGWivux/s1600/DSC_5193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqd5QscTQBWf0C7byuStglcfVpUTupw8BOW-1y5tDVKBfHfyLPc20drHmCQRmOuIlO-uPZ5s2xerZoh3V2c0Bb8P-FxVaOsYZrQ8Gd8oq_jyv5WczRkZ7Gntqkw7FaYwWcMAcYgfGWivux/s320/DSC_5193.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LgQdbufcuhVP9-7z4xnTssz8J_TnQoG3tnwDeRlPVyO6JDH4cHnjcMjabJquwJALxvJdOcVGtH3iFcwUPLSh9YxPWpUd9Qso0UcPGPe6oUOH-jxZq5j5sdsIvtd8Al8-4WXgOq-W538g/s1600/DSC_5198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LgQdbufcuhVP9-7z4xnTssz8J_TnQoG3tnwDeRlPVyO6JDH4cHnjcMjabJquwJALxvJdOcVGtH3iFcwUPLSh9YxPWpUd9Qso0UcPGPe6oUOH-jxZq5j5sdsIvtd8Al8-4WXgOq-W538g/s320/DSC_5198.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />On the very last day of the week off (on) Gavin and I decided to stay late and begin tiling the shower. We had bought the subway tile a couple of weeks prior, and although we were intimidated, my Uncle A gave me a quick tutorial and off we were to the races. I won't say it wasn't hard (or that I didn't have to pull down the first two rows and re-do them after noticing they were leaning a bit hard to starboard so to speak...) but we got a good start on it and I really felt so damn proud.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-Bh5TPxRPvmVgHBtayB9MQ8wQSk8nlxMTbJAEEgnjJxDXVMCK48ojyYzdocsGJYFcA7DFiFkXQCu2dXkB8dbGlIF-wCbfR2P-Gkza9fvHWSkO9hy97NVc-HhAEkEBEUuIde0JInldXPM/s1600/DSC_5243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-Bh5TPxRPvmVgHBtayB9MQ8wQSk8nlxMTbJAEEgnjJxDXVMCK48ojyYzdocsGJYFcA7DFiFkXQCu2dXkB8dbGlIF-wCbfR2P-Gkza9fvHWSkO9hy97NVc-HhAEkEBEUuIde0JInldXPM/s320/DSC_5243.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harder than it looks...</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHuceAMYhXlA8WNYKr25E7GdRL8wy2FuiKsGKoGsHXAx7ZZ1XzEwVldCJ_JQFzEbelQmygmjHKfOtPuhZHyZkCqfXRvR_npDK2d-X8iKBHiXbwWJvuIqUSRMYkO-dKnwgSrrMDBRMPbYl/s1600/DSC_5232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHuceAMYhXlA8WNYKr25E7GdRL8wy2FuiKsGKoGsHXAx7ZZ1XzEwVldCJ_JQFzEbelQmygmjHKfOtPuhZHyZkCqfXRvR_npDK2d-X8iKBHiXbwWJvuIqUSRMYkO-dKnwgSrrMDBRMPbYl/s320/DSC_5232.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting really late at night. Much swearing at the tile cutter...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnWsG6UUCS7tghknDKTip_rysBBKPG5v6ppxwyyvsnN_wcUSD0TCYqJz7-8qGfz0I4Lbfw_Q4mjjo8ZjvSiBAPwGlo8hyphenhyphenZSITcUWqYTqYlNmUiy6974ii8HPxgOh9QJnpbwDC7eqOOBGu/s1600/DSC_5244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnWsG6UUCS7tghknDKTip_rysBBKPG5v6ppxwyyvsnN_wcUSD0TCYqJz7-8qGfz0I4Lbfw_Q4mjjo8ZjvSiBAPwGlo8hyphenhyphenZSITcUWqYTqYlNmUiy6974ii8HPxgOh9QJnpbwDC7eqOOBGu/s400/DSC_5244.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not bad for first timers! Still have a ways to go though...</td></tr></tbody></table>We ended the week sore and tired but so, so much better off than before it began, and with a true sense that things are moving toward completion. The past couple of weeks have been spent "taping", which is the process of filing in all the seams between the drywall pieces with tape and spackle and making the whole thing smooth and lovely. Gav's been dropping in every day off but most of this has fallen to The Taper (who is called that for a reason) and he's been there damn near every day working his magic.<br /><br />On the bad news side, doesn't look like it's possible to keep the old kitchen cabinets. We had to tear them out to repair the kitchen wall which was one of the last bastions of plaster (now gone!) and needed to be bumped out a bit to accommodate the plumbing waste pipe. Turns out the cabinets were kind of chintzy to begin with and many of them didn't fare so well during the tear out. So...Boo! More money we don't have! And...Yay! New cabinets! I have some truly lovely plans for that kitchen, y'all. But that's for another blog....Mwa ha ha ha!!!<br /><br />Still crossing our fingers for a move-in date before Thanksgiving- what a thing to be thankful for! Updates a' plenty coming- things are moving fast-and-furious now!! But:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpsVjyn2gNhDOkLufdGCq3HRcxI3yu2kR7OfQgO5ZWSh_poTtmtMTDv-j0ZeV_hM7TIzuCBqCb63Y4m8xaWV_rWTQY4p6beMyX4ywzmh_XScQPntZ4j5Z59B_wTy1rXlcBiQDeo_n3wMJo/s1600/DSC_5268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpsVjyn2gNhDOkLufdGCq3HRcxI3yu2kR7OfQgO5ZWSh_poTtmtMTDv-j0ZeV_hM7TIzuCBqCb63Y4m8xaWV_rWTQY4p6beMyX4ywzmh_XScQPntZ4j5Z59B_wTy1rXlcBiQDeo_n3wMJo/s640/DSC_5268.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember all that potential? Coming back into focus....ONWARD!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-10463013432419240602012-08-14T18:51:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:45.984-08:00Wide Open SpacesAnd....two months later. How is that even possible? Well, I'll tell you how: In addition to having our regular lives to lead (kids, jobs, building this house) it also happens that Father's Day, our wedding anniversary, my birthday, both kid's birthdays, and the Fourth of July happen in the same 1 month span. So summer is kind of crazy. Wonderful, but also crazy.<br /><br />But all sorts of doings! So first, the chimney did indeed come down. Video to prove it, starring Uncle A, my brother Joey, and Gavin shooting film between knocking down brick:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzEyoYnAzdlaU58EK6yf9QpLgRq3gNbUB4Fd7yrqHvGFe-wgb5LBpKWVU1NS85C92VT5x7VHnRxOkb9AyRZmw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Gavin and I spent an insane 2 days cleaning from attic to basement (there is always, ALWAYS a mess, not matter how much you clean) and stacking all the old remaining brick so we could save it for use outside in landscaping later (much later- currently our backyard looks like the jungles of Vietnam). This was done in early July, since Gav's mom was out for our baby boy's first birthday party! See how we cram work and fun into one insane package? Every mosquito in Long Island turned out to help us stack bricks. Thank you, mosquitos. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Y-YaVYM3TjDCgnGLOgxPttVwDRDls9Cbd4jPd2HL6ItzcuxhDh9V1-l4mYlWHGysyChyyOVYNxQ7koTBzloZfr6lWemb7L3Qje07tLtvFsbrSOR7iTaupSJEbJUGlY3AzVc4c801zARA/s1600/DSC_5193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Y-YaVYM3TjDCgnGLOgxPttVwDRDls9Cbd4jPd2HL6ItzcuxhDh9V1-l4mYlWHGysyChyyOVYNxQ7koTBzloZfr6lWemb7L3Qje07tLtvFsbrSOR7iTaupSJEbJUGlY3AzVc4c801zARA/s320/DSC_5193.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building the Great Wall of Fitz</td></tr></tbody></table>Uncle A, the Taper, Gavin and Little Ol' Yours Truly (I got to use the pneumatic hammer! SQUEE!) built some temporary walls to hold up the second floor while they installed the new header beam; we did this on my birthday, and I couldn't have asked for a better gift! Once the beam was in and the temps down it was nothing but a big, light-filled space and so clear we made the right choice in opening everything up. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxAGvqljVj79jIgoNdVD-KOgNklZY8ktvC5gcxJQuTmzVauyT3-KFZ4nyKNe3k_S1Jgh839SeWLe8irhq-KTwYisijVmxHGMl3cdskNBInYs2XCTiHXkKYwtmfZkUzyA_FZAxXYQMn1Rw/s1600/DSC_5197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxAGvqljVj79jIgoNdVD-KOgNklZY8ktvC5gcxJQuTmzVauyT3-KFZ4nyKNe3k_S1Jgh839SeWLe8irhq-KTwYisijVmxHGMl3cdskNBInYs2XCTiHXkKYwtmfZkUzyA_FZAxXYQMn1Rw/s320/DSC_5197.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice that poor Gavin is sweating like a goat at the beach...</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLoksaohcViVsDmbY5ShdQModAXeNgj1O6mSuoTqFJyXvkQsTU_ATVbIGJLAbnlbivV64H0R_izT0DwhznmNR4LyHzr80WbsKihc4QBQznzSVw2QsZUWf76bYIkcYnomgqxi3PnKhlnoY/s1600/DSC_5184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLoksaohcViVsDmbY5ShdQModAXeNgj1O6mSuoTqFJyXvkQsTU_ATVbIGJLAbnlbivV64H0R_izT0DwhznmNR4LyHzr80WbsKihc4QBQznzSVw2QsZUWf76bYIkcYnomgqxi3PnKhlnoY/s320/DSC_5184.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Taper</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMX0kY_uJ0BkzWaZ66ThivGbQxHzf1GqoqxAMIvWW0q7gspfntqExD1zyD4QsJqLfmoDBC9VMaqwabO4kOoI1OGaiPt6rvTnYU1qeTwvn2a9CciYITrIncWAVRJUAm9LFM_SKs3_5MbxB/s1600/DSC_5185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMX0kY_uJ0BkzWaZ66ThivGbQxHzf1GqoqxAMIvWW0q7gspfntqExD1zyD4QsJqLfmoDBC9VMaqwabO4kOoI1OGaiPt6rvTnYU1qeTwvn2a9CciYITrIncWAVRJUAm9LFM_SKs3_5MbxB/s320/DSC_5185.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwbAYPKuv1jMBH2VaHVduQysiVoY9rCyQNtfRF5DvaxxEBnvJibihhIyBHZtBtaN0CCoWDaRGqaZp5MsYQHXQho-T8nK58AJ79RfqEYihGnDsADIF0nuDRRNqGxTihWMzQmMjgkUlQNEd/s1600/DSC_5196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwbAYPKuv1jMBH2VaHVduQysiVoY9rCyQNtfRF5DvaxxEBnvJibihhIyBHZtBtaN0CCoWDaRGqaZp5MsYQHXQho-T8nK58AJ79RfqEYihGnDsADIF0nuDRRNqGxTihWMzQmMjgkUlQNEd/s320/DSC_5196.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The only way to tell how huge this room now seems is wee Gavin way at the other side...</td></tr></tbody></table>Some guys came and for literally less than the materials alone would have cost at Home Depot installed insulation from the second floor ceiling on down (since the attic is not heated we'll save that for later) in one day! I feel a tiny thrill when I see all that brown paper insulation, since it's literally a barrier that prevents dollars from flying out through our walls.<br /><br />And wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, the Taper done sheet rocked the bathroom!! WE HAVE A ROOM WITH WALLS! And even better, he took such pride in his work that I have the most flawless bathroom walls in the universe. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhLEVpjFt18YLDhgmj8RcW9YnHITOzpvC0C-fya1FCqiT04Mu8uxDl0SED0cUC5kY8sdtxLbOoR9d9Xmszl7Ir5yIPBMQVfCNOSGJJratKtV1TSrhYBDjs98cspEjeh7R_DmJf2jUFti2/s1600/DSC_5212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhLEVpjFt18YLDhgmj8RcW9YnHITOzpvC0C-fya1FCqiT04Mu8uxDl0SED0cUC5kY8sdtxLbOoR9d9Xmszl7Ir5yIPBMQVfCNOSGJJratKtV1TSrhYBDjs98cspEjeh7R_DmJf2jUFti2/s320/DSC_5212.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gwendy came with me to check out our new walls!!</td></tr></tbody></table>I walked in and nearly cried- it was so good to see stuff finally get put back rather than torn down! Uncle A plans on working on the bathroom during his vacation (cause that's fun) and it should be up and running before the end of the month! Imagine, peeing in my own house? A dream is a wish your heart makes...<br /><br />And this week I call and order sheetrock for the whole rest o' the house. We hope to have it delivered next week and (pleaseGodplease) have walls going up the last week of August!! FINGERS SOOOO CROSSED!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-50330879693939948082012-08-05T07:17:00.000-07:002012-08-05T07:17:18.711-07:00Wes is One!Just a quick (late) post to mark the fact that my baby boy, my wee swarthy pirate, somehow managed to go and turn one year old in the 20 seconds that seemed to have elapsed since he came home. We celebrated in fine nautical fashion at my Mom's house. I did a red/white/blue color scheme since his birthday is so close to the fourth:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy in a late-night-before-the-party crafting frenzy....</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sailboat cake!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The SS Wes Is One!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gramma in from California!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By the end of his big day, all he wanted was to be down to his diaper, holding his lovey, "Claude", and get snuggled on by everybody. A perfect 1st Birthday!</td></tr>
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<br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-65164032813936039882012-06-15T20:24:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:45.995-08:00We Meet AgainUgh...cannot believe that it's been more than a month since I last updated this bad boy. My intentions were so good going in, but blah blah blah kids/work/life madness. Where do I begin?<br /><br />We are done with the electrical roughing in. What a blessing in disguise needing to do that has turned out to be- seriously folks! Not only is everything now safe and to code, but I got to dictate where to put outlets, light fixtures, and security lights. I have never lived in a house designed in this century before and am the queen of sketchy multi extension cord wiring jobs to make old electric work for modern living. No more! I have outlets coming out the whazoo, people- places to plug in blow dryers and coffee pots and nary a concern about blowing fuses when I dare turn on 2 or more things at once.<br /><br />ALSO! We made a MAJOR (at least to us) design decision. It turns out that we will be able to do the conversion to gas heat after all, and that means our aforementioned janky chimney is no longer strictly necessary for venting purposes. If you remember, we were looking at 2500 minimum to rebuild said chimney, and to spend that on something largely useless (we won't be burning coal in that fireplace any time soon) felt all kinds of wrong what with our shoe-<strike>string</strike> thread budget. So how about knocking the whole damn thing down and making the kitchen/dining room an open concept sort of thing? DUH DUH DAHHHH!!! "But wait!", you say "What about your beautiful fireplace and all the charm contained therein??" Well, I tells ya what. We could save the firebox and mantle and move the whole kit and caboodle to another wall, effectively making a new fireplace and still getting open concept ju ju! A lovely vista of being able to cook a meal without wondering if the kids were murdering each other or the dogs dances before my eyes! HUZZAH!<br /><br />Enter the menfolk and a day of dirty, crazy hard work (is there any other kind in the Elephant?) chipping the chimney down from the roof through the attic, 2nd floor, and 1st floor, and carting the old brick out to be used in our landscaping future. I was home kiddo wrangling, and lordy, my heart ached not being there to help them. But Gavin took video and I was totally impressed with what they accomplished in no time at all. Seriously, you can't tell at all from the roof that there was ever a hole, and the room downstairs is already so airy and full of light. <br /><br />Next we have to put up some support beams to make up for soon-to-be-gone wall framing, and figure out what to do with the awkward place in the hardwood that will missing. Of course the dang floor was laid perpendicular to the wall making patching it a royal be-otch. I'm thinking of just owning the imperfection and using Morroccan tile or parquet inlay or something cool rather than trying to disguise it...we'll see. Also, we will be trying to reclaim some giant funky piece of furniture or other to make an island to separate the rooms. <br /><br />We also (did I not tell you this??) decided that the teeny tiny bedroom upstairs would be better suited to being a walk-in closet/office for the master bedroom since the OG closet in there wouldn't fit more than a pair of pants. Seriously, it was the smallest closet I've ever seen. Allow me to revel in pure feminine glee for a moment at all that closet space.....GAH!!! Plus gutting the place let's me put in super useful features like a hatch in the closet wall so dirty clothes can just drop right into the laundry room below. Now if only we can find a spot for a secret passageway...<br /><br />In other news (and in other rooms) blessed Uncle A continues to fight the good fight in the upstairs bathroom. It took a couple of tries to make the new plumbing synch up with the old drainage, but we now have complete rough-ins, a new waste pipe and GLORY BE! A BATHTUB! Things are starting to look like things again. Tile should be going down shortly and then....a dream come true: a toilet the handle of which I shall not need to jiggle. It will be the flush heard round the world. Got a great quote on insulation for the whole dang house, so once the ducts are re-attached that will be the next step and then....WALLS! WAAAAALLLSSS!!! I am well and truly sick of seeing every room all at once.<br /><br />This whole process has crawled on since we are all working around our various making-ends-meet-living-life schedule rather than just throwing money at some pricey builder types (Har de har har! Like that's an option!), but there is so much love being put into this place by so many amazing, generous souls that the house just feels happy, dust, and all, every time I walk in there. Every bit of progress is a gift in every sense of the word, and the delays only make those baby steps sweeter. <br /><br /><br />Not much in the way of pictures but I'll see if I can't get some chimney-killing video up here soon:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aYoWqJtTn36_A6QkXUXAmVMOEgyKAuwMOpj1J4BtEetUfrnyiAFkeGDV0JMPN4kkz8_YHGlgY0sH_qzKro1KViWlcEL1cuzPXonPuUUvEs7RMSkuar-DFx_dlEZFZ_UJyjzTAJD58wfc/s1600/DSC_5223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aYoWqJtTn36_A6QkXUXAmVMOEgyKAuwMOpj1J4BtEetUfrnyiAFkeGDV0JMPN4kkz8_YHGlgY0sH_qzKro1KViWlcEL1cuzPXonPuUUvEs7RMSkuar-DFx_dlEZFZ_UJyjzTAJD58wfc/s320/DSC_5223.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And lo! It t'were a bath tub!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGG-W1X9epu6HAprMQujgglTYuKcA5SJptPvXJGrbHbtZAaHjpdPdWQ99dExY56uoEK_ERcwFYxxDxYASv5pF7rqfIILD_FLHEz8Ji6YMUIOvR4GWM0PPNHke9fJcO70s_9fL87RIh4Ld/s1600/DSC_5220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGG-W1X9epu6HAprMQujgglTYuKcA5SJptPvXJGrbHbtZAaHjpdPdWQ99dExY56uoEK_ERcwFYxxDxYASv5pF7rqfIILD_FLHEz8Ji6YMUIOvR4GWM0PPNHke9fJcO70s_9fL87RIh4Ld/s320/DSC_5220.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's up, waste pipe?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-90801561487141016732012-05-09T06:00:00.000-07:002012-05-09T06:57:49.367-07:00Chim Chim Cheree...<br />
I check on Gwendy every night before I go up to bed. Last night when I first walked into her room I noticed her basket of hair accessories spilled on the floor, and as I squinted in the dark room I could see something black was smeared all over and around it. "Oh God, please don't be poop!" was my first thought, but no, upon closer inspection it was a small plastic tray of greasepaint leftover from some Halloween years ago or a scene study from school or something. I had (stupidly) left an old makeup bag in Gwen's room from having painted her nails and she had climbed up to get it and smeared said greasepaint all over the rug:<br />
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With a sigh of resignation I bent down to start cleaning up. And suddenly it occurred to me that I hadn't actually looked at Gwen yet. And when I did, this is what I saw:</div>
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You guys, I couldn't even be mad- I was laughing so hard I nearly peed my pants- but now I had the problem of what the hell to do. I couldn't very well leave her like that, but I knew full well she was not going to take kindly to be awoken at 11:30pm to wash up. Well first, I got the camera. Because, come on? I then took a baby wipe and started cleaning her face, and eventually she woke up enough to go with me to the bathroom for some bigger intervention (the baby wipe was a bit like fighting a forest fire by waving a towel at it):</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-gYWwFEMFC3RZerNDk7JuilkG8oYOYz2D3ajaKLss3SAtByk0CnMgAvjLuXP9FtrXQ-NAJixUpWTptHZMxWDOXbNW5vsFGBkjw78EQgvd5ZshVQOafTochQqRY_2FTwFyiDBfQApaETB/s1600/DSC_5285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-gYWwFEMFC3RZerNDk7JuilkG8oYOYz2D3ajaKLss3SAtByk0CnMgAvjLuXP9FtrXQ-NAJixUpWTptHZMxWDOXbNW5vsFGBkjw78EQgvd5ZshVQOafTochQqRY_2FTwFyiDBfQApaETB/s400/DSC_5285.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">after wiping her face a bit...making progress....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGWvVWzcaUAjM6-ijaG0qACMMoX59qmPPgaEJyOoZYUCazVLbP_0TuNgaj2XgDfz02HhLmuFeDnUZFdkZArgqewloO5IS-tC4nr-O2TRtifMA9is8tEdoNo3KQ-kIieimiF0qHgeALSsR/s1600/DSC_5284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGWvVWzcaUAjM6-ijaG0qACMMoX59qmPPgaEJyOoZYUCazVLbP_0TuNgaj2XgDfz02HhLmuFeDnUZFdkZArgqewloO5IS-tC4nr-O2TRtifMA9is8tEdoNo3KQ-kIieimiF0qHgeALSsR/s400/DSC_5284.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">enjoying this way too much.</td></tr>
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When we got into the bathroom, I began running the water to get it warm and figured I'd show her what she'd done. "Look at your face, baby!" I told her as I held her up to the mirror. "AHH!!! NO!!! I SCARED OF THAT SCARY THING!!" She refused to accept any explanation I offered that it was actually her own face that she'd seen and once I'd gotten her settled and somewhat clean she still kept mumbling "Makeup is scary, Momma" every so often. <br />
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I had to change all her bedding and I'm still not sure what to do about the rug- my attempt to clean it has made a giant black vortex a la "The Ring". And even after several washings Gwen has a distinct swarthy look today, kind of like Captain Jack Sparrow:<br />
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<img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanmSLxQAHofBKXIzokPso9inUntXhYGhvVqIDSBAWj6W58NELhAFpV6cjzemTaeuS9zZ0yuWqn2SG_QpWwDIQijkyJ-SWRT6dLbwJUIPn7jSTcULJ8BLj3X1uEZUE0BJRV0rydkL3l_ff/s320/DSC_5182.JPG" width="320" />vs<a href="http://byzarah.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/jack-sparrow-little.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://byzarah.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/jack-sparrow-little.jpg" /></a></div>
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...But every so often, your kid does something that you just know will go into the Legend of Her. And this one, this one's for the books. Well played, my little Chimney Sweep.</div>
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<br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-13698179026201478202012-05-04T20:30:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:46.003-08:00I got the POWER!Progress! Thank GOD! Pause to picture Gav doing a jaunty victory strut, maybe dressed like Uncle Sam? I don't know why, just do it. Ok, done? Good. Anyway.<br /><br />We started the week out on a rotten note- we were on our 4th dumpster, still battling an endless miasma of dust, and to top it all off we got a notice from our home owner's insurance that they were dropping us because our house was under renovation and not yet being lived in. Wait, what? So people don't renovate their houses? Whatever. Jerks. <br /><br />Turns out it was a blessing in disguise though. We used the motivator of needing to have another insurance walk-through with whatever new company we go with to get serious and call in some reinforcements. We were all set to blow whatever we had to on a Yellowpages electrician when a small miracle happened. The Taper got an electrician who happens to be a good family friend to agree to make room in his uber-busy schedule and get cracking on getting us wired and back in business. And better yet, the day after we called him it was supposed to rain so his job that day had been cancelled. In less than 24 hours we had a licensed master electrician rigging up all sorts of fabulous new sparky magics to our house. And in a couple more visits (scheduled this weekend!) we should be ready to move forward with insulation, plumbing, and-dare I say it?- closing up the walls! BOO YAH!<br /><br />In other news, we pried all the stick-on tile up from the kitchen, mudroom, and bedrooms. Let's take a moment, shall we, to focus on the fact that at some point in recent history people thought it was a cute idea to glue mustard-colored tile over their hardwood floors. When you wrap your mind around that concept, you kind of understand how there is war and strife in our world. Anywho, turns out whatever money was not spent on maintaining and repairing this house (I'm talking plumbing fixed with duct tape, y'all) was apparently spent on floor adhesive procured from NASA for use on space shuttles. Like, that tile was on FOR KEEPS. Now that it's gone there's this horrid gluey scum on the floors that shows no sign of coming up easily. It's like a giant Scratch-n-sniff sticker of evil, the scent being "Musty Old House". Bring on the gloves and caustic chemicals, yo. I will get that glue off if it's the last thing I do, if only to show them they haven't broken me. And by them I mean the those guys at This Old House, the smug bastards.<br /><br />I spent a long day with the the Taper getting that fourth dumpster packed to the gills, and literally just as we were talking about when to go to the scrap yard with our pile o' metal and junk appliances, some guys came by with a panel van and offered to buy it off us. So I made $120 off a pile of garbage, recycled like a good green girl, AND I didn't have to lug it anywhere. <For the win.<br /><br />So yeah, this weekend should be way productive. And that's the best thing ever, because I don't mind hard work- I just hate sitting on my hands. Once the wiring is done, everyone else can go about doing what they do best. And when everyone involved with this project does their best...well....it's pretty badass. <br /><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-76291304180006419332012-04-27T19:58:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:46.012-08:00ahem.Fourth dumpster. FOURTH F@#*%N DUMPSTER.<br /><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-48715669123400782792012-04-20T19:37:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:46.033-08:00The WeightBlog title reflects both content of said blog and a sad farewell to Mr. Levon Helm of The Band who passed away this week. Rest in peace, talented man. And now your local news:<br /><br />A somewhat uneventful week. Gavin went back to work so there can no longer be great long stretches of house work- we've got to get as much possible done on our days off. In a way it's a relief- as much as I want/need/am obsessed with working on the Elephant, families with babies thrive on routine our routine has gone to hell in a hand-basket of late. It's nice to have naps and meals and even the odd toddler meltdown back on a loose schedule rather than coming out of left field- that kind of existence makes you feel like you are losing your damn mind one day at a time.<br /><br />The (third!) dumpster went on Thursday, bringing our grand total for the approximate weight of all the crap we removed to 12 tons. I kid you not, 22,000+ lbs. of plaster, lathe, junk and mishegas out of the house and out of our lives. I can only imagine our houses frame just <i>sighing</i> after all that weight was lifted. I spent a rip-roaring day with my sister and Uncle A just carting plaster and nail-studded wood out for like a hundred million hours. I managed to cut my arms like I'd gone to prom with Edward Scissorhands in the process, but it felt really good to get my hands dirty for the day instead of speculating from afar what was going on without my help (or without my micromanaging :). <br /><br />Uncle A got some lights working in the basement so I don't need to fear I will stumble upon a sleeping vagrant or hibernating bear when I fumble around down there with nought but the light of my cell phone to guide me. And Gav's friend Dan spent a thankless day doing miscellany and removing hundreds of nails from our wall-less walls so we can one day aspire to put sheet rock up (live the dream!).<br /><br />Next step- the wiring and duct work, on which we hope to get cracking on this week. Other than that, I ordered a mailbox so our mail won't just be tossed in a rubber-banded roll on the porch any more (as much as I cherish the idea of identity theft and/or missed bills). I do so love making small purchases for our home- some sappy domestic-reveling nest-making part of my being does a small jig of glee when my debit card goes swipeddy-swipe for things that don't fall in the boring (drywall/nails/safety-goggles) category. Anywho, here's our super-cute letter box:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mailboxcollectionsetc.com/photos/sb/hm/4460WHT_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.mailboxcollectionsetc.com/photos/sb/hm/4460WHT_f.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think I'm going to add a bit of "patina" to dull down the gold, but aint it adorbs?</td></tr></tbody></table>Oh! And our tree out front and azalea bush have both bloomed be-yoo-tifully! I must say, I LOVE finding out about all the flora and fauna we've got in our yard, like little bonuses every week. On Saturday my sister and I saw two baby squirrels poke their wee heads out of their nest in a knot in the black walnut tree and I've seen heaps of cardinals in the trees out back. I found a rose bush and a couple of hydrangea (I live for hydrangea!) and big rangy bursts of forsythia just about everywhere. I don't think I'll get to do more in the yard this year besides make it presentable, but OH the fun I'm gonna have next spring....<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVoDiJqFRh1RhnUgoqo87gQqT3XVBp-cyrJ3jrLnY2J5aMQXbcfKa15XFeHRGBvIW9Tqj1i8O4kpVCnIGzJXPZ10d9ns_u_KZln60TT6CC7kh8eExVWyVkWB0BS5GO6J0SZf8Q07t4rf5/s1600/IMG_1476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVoDiJqFRh1RhnUgoqo87gQqT3XVBp-cyrJ3jrLnY2J5aMQXbcfKa15XFeHRGBvIW9Tqj1i8O4kpVCnIGzJXPZ10d9ns_u_KZln60TT6CC7kh8eExVWyVkWB0BS5GO6J0SZf8Q07t4rf5/s320/IMG_1476.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Azalea realness</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZ2dSmeHOBnL5L-ydKuTJXrh7_uj4qNpEW5d1AtBFIEv45nF5-QNkiBfrqkIBVRwUxtY8mrJ_8OuYBrPyhTsoYJX9nBYNKM-3iAnLC2q-x-6U9Ga2bh4iUeyoUEWnqn3CYNQve-xLONme/s1600/IMG_1475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZ2dSmeHOBnL5L-ydKuTJXrh7_uj4qNpEW5d1AtBFIEv45nF5-QNkiBfrqkIBVRwUxtY8mrJ_8OuYBrPyhTsoYJX9nBYNKM-3iAnLC2q-x-6U9Ga2bh4iUeyoUEWnqn3CYNQve-xLONme/s320/IMG_1475.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crab apple? </td></tr></tbody></table>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-6752891423965818342012-04-13T19:05:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:46.043-08:00More Guts, More Glory?Ugh...where to begin? It's been a helluva two weeks, friends. First, we had a wonderful and all-too-brief visit with Gav's folks, who were able to see what we see in the Elephant and so were, as always, supportive and optimistic and all-in-all perfect. Gav got to log some manly-man hours with his Dad knocking around the house and doing all sorts of fun jobs and the kids got to love on "Gammy and Pawpaw" for Easter so it was a perfect visit. And then mid-week, the fun REALLY began. <br /><br />I'll cut to the chase- turns out the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knob_and_tube_wiring">knob-and-tube</a> wiring we were told was inactive in fact powers about 1/2 of our house. Glory be. When it's in decent shape it's not necessary hazardous (though pretty inadequate to power our modern appliances, etc as it was largely used prior to the 1930s) but when it's janky and sort of all over the place mixed in with modern(ish) wiring, like ours is, it has the potential to cause fires and blow fuses and all sorts of fun and games. So it needs to go. Thankfully we have some great family connections to electricians and after they poked around a bit it was determined that to do the work we needed to....wait for it....<i>gut the rest of the house</i>. We called Israel to see what he'd charge to do the remaining walls (the upstairs hallway, the horrid blue room, the kitchen ceiling, and....gulp...my beloved foyer) but because he'd gone so over weight on the past dumpster he needed more this time around- money we just don't have to spare. Enter Gavin (with help from myself and a rotating cast of good and benevolent friends and family) doing the demo his damnself. <br /><br />Today I got to join him for a lovely demo date (Mom was able to take off work and wrangle the kiddos for the day). In some ways, it was satisfying- swinging a giant pry bar at the walls that have caused me so much anxiety and consternation- but mostly it was dirty, tedious, and immensely strenous labor. We set up a make-shift shoot out the window and into our new (third) dumpster using a ladder wrapped in tarp and dropped bucket after bucket of crunchy plastery goodness down and out of our lives. Gavin's been at it for a few days and honestly, after putting in just one good day myself, I don't know how he's held up so well- I feel like I've gone over the Niagra Falls in a friggin barrel. Suffice it to say I am crazy-proud of my hubs.<br /><br />I have had some reservations about this final gut- it becomes increasingly difficult to save those traits of the house that add that infamous "character" since working around old moulding and plaster medallions can be really hard when you are trying to smash through walls. There have been a few casualties along the way -one example- the aforementioned plaster medallion crashed to the floor without warning today and broke into a million peices so it will have to be replaced with a salvaged one or a reproduction- but I think we have managed to keep enough original details to add back in once the walls are up that the house will still be itself, but better. Like the Six Million Dollar Man. Or something. Plus the more we open the more we discover potential problems (I'm looking at you, furry grey/black mold monster under the kitchen ceiling) before they have a chance to really become catastrophic. We will truly know what's what with this house, and that does feel good. <br /><br />Anywho, once all this is done the electric can be roughed in and we can FINALLY get moving on insulating and PUTTING UP SOME WALLS. I really, really cannot wait. But for now, enjoy our new "open concept" Victorian...<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOK9bVJQ309fWwP5FjJi0U1ULsdTbWFL17qGgv05PgsLUTFY-RHirjqx-xPprf5r0bPLqv8O0shdOSoemkhOgppMVIs0PXdMMVXg2va8L4NsAvoX5geRogFeebJaV8VkXcKMihLmUAHh7J/s1600/IMG_1461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOK9bVJQ309fWwP5FjJi0U1ULsdTbWFL17qGgv05PgsLUTFY-RHirjqx-xPprf5r0bPLqv8O0shdOSoemkhOgppMVIs0PXdMMVXg2va8L4NsAvoX5geRogFeebJaV8VkXcKMihLmUAHh7J/s320/IMG_1461.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is I, Demo Goddess</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivu8sXsVFMBd6RQdvf_sdoOrpSWMORpKrZnE6EGIo6jCO3mfRZMbu2BB7kqep_JIyfIrCuqIP6zdfzJKR7UHNsUU80m9gHr3GGBi2UEUNHWl2qkDhaFQWXyUSrRe_0neTdUklYl3xMfpfN/s1600/IMG_1463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivu8sXsVFMBd6RQdvf_sdoOrpSWMORpKrZnE6EGIo6jCO3mfRZMbu2BB7kqep_JIyfIrCuqIP6zdfzJKR7UHNsUU80m9gHr3GGBi2UEUNHWl2qkDhaFQWXyUSrRe_0neTdUklYl3xMfpfN/s320/IMG_1463.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His and Hers Matching Aspirators! How cute!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yHi79enkTFtxAH4-AtUNcRjELM22RKneoSVUOrhg1mDXC2CuxrXoZdNatv73HBbnbLOZs_01HQ1z_wdEyoZfn9KLaDVrnU-uVJzIiF3bEYSRzX7cbHYk3y5S59McTc7Zoq9FsTVQ0Mbs/s1600/DSC_5178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yHi79enkTFtxAH4-AtUNcRjELM22RKneoSVUOrhg1mDXC2CuxrXoZdNatv73HBbnbLOZs_01HQ1z_wdEyoZfn9KLaDVrnU-uVJzIiF3bEYSRzX7cbHYk3y5S59McTc7Zoq9FsTVQ0Mbs/s320/DSC_5178.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gav's Dad sanding all our cabinet doors</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFlLxyAMbQiNYVQZZd6bg17z0n3Y-gUBtBFGl6AuqlFt4Fm35KUhg1-tbQPpFMCpAXE5sISV67YW1_ncpZKrvlxpr0LIvUTMMhFYo2ntg6jW-TkEaA-dxH4vebHA7M7jfDIR4Hir3es15/s1600/DSC_5179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFlLxyAMbQiNYVQZZd6bg17z0n3Y-gUBtBFGl6AuqlFt4Fm35KUhg1-tbQPpFMCpAXE5sISV67YW1_ncpZKrvlxpr0LIvUTMMhFYo2ntg6jW-TkEaA-dxH4vebHA7M7jfDIR4Hir3es15/s320/DSC_5179.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crazy "Baker's Rack" set up so we could get to the plaster on the stair wall</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUt1pvjDBSZoUFeO6AZCzF1ALBIjhs55tf_CVCY7HoJS2T-cvR6ooPCi45TSnEp1zWOTRzmuQHnjCJP89MTmce5VYciSDyPpS3wWhSa6Co-dpd8CViHS7opaHOSOb0iYYCmOJZqGoEmoC/s1600/DSC_5051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUt1pvjDBSZoUFeO6AZCzF1ALBIjhs55tf_CVCY7HoJS2T-cvR6ooPCi45TSnEp1zWOTRzmuQHnjCJP89MTmce5VYciSDyPpS3wWhSa6Co-dpd8CViHS7opaHOSOb0iYYCmOJZqGoEmoC/s320/DSC_5051.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle A planning our upstairs bathroom. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSfp0ztHr293jUwPjM5cxMVTmGCTiiZHh2PpnXOE_1gx1WCFD8MFOUMRi4yWJafix2UFJEBiwUFWLcYu_mVGd4btX7mAHkb3UDRzw4aEoS4df9vXmaBcPkC_f3xL8mXOew05uRgIBhfQc/s1600/DSC_5187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSfp0ztHr293jUwPjM5cxMVTmGCTiiZHh2PpnXOE_1gx1WCFD8MFOUMRi4yWJafix2UFJEBiwUFWLcYu_mVGd4btX7mAHkb3UDRzw4aEoS4df9vXmaBcPkC_f3xL8mXOew05uRgIBhfQc/s320/DSC_5187.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodtimes</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURTlaSAA4KtavbMjs6b_LrfVjodxtXjYvHNJpF_adHk-baUjRs-lJPezgqNo2Muefu3ADi6gfmM98gUaw1HanRjhapiAZ2mxPsn1s7odBmq2smdYKbkYA-TPTUg5e0q49MNEKn0RBAfjP/s1600/DSC_5192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURTlaSAA4KtavbMjs6b_LrfVjodxtXjYvHNJpF_adHk-baUjRs-lJPezgqNo2Muefu3ADi6gfmM98gUaw1HanRjhapiAZ2mxPsn1s7odBmq2smdYKbkYA-TPTUg5e0q49MNEKn0RBAfjP/s320/DSC_5192.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The infamous Joe Da' Taper</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVp4zUYRCXsRU-zp4CvCwf18lI8u0FTaBzlA6GvCfJLMN0_-uOJmFXR2fC05iSZEwLoM1OasD2VMlS9I9re0JV5WS5PU6ZtF9G9ulMaPcqkds87WB4AK1ct6ho54pNr8YyCV5s0FQsMTs/s1600/DSC_5195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVp4zUYRCXsRU-zp4CvCwf18lI8u0FTaBzlA6GvCfJLMN0_-uOJmFXR2fC05iSZEwLoM1OasD2VMlS9I9re0JV5WS5PU6ZtF9G9ulMaPcqkds87WB4AK1ct6ho54pNr8YyCV5s0FQsMTs/s320/DSC_5195.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJa4GPN7S8qF6ayXEzBr527ureDQzkkILn2p8sW1sLWf4j9AklvcrMYALfADWDSLQ6d37xG_MxGQ41CabmXmHr1wvDmweUywEX2n789F6gEBb3-vERYied3vFboOG86V01Uroa1iF_BUIZ/s1600/DSC_5196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJa4GPN7S8qF6ayXEzBr527ureDQzkkILn2p8sW1sLWf4j9AklvcrMYALfADWDSLQ6d37xG_MxGQ41CabmXmHr1wvDmweUywEX2n789F6gEBb3-vERYied3vFboOG86V01Uroa1iF_BUIZ/s320/DSC_5196.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beauty in Destruction</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH69uttV1wuipKesdGcWEZSpgqSlM6VaNxVrqrXehVZCIqrkNxfnMgA5KFGS6RQYtpuV3-XarhDHZX78bKtPsdhhojzhaXZC5OziX2BucbMywum5rt_Cns3NMp5uqmOvEzLv547cE_0bd2/s1600/DSC_5197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH69uttV1wuipKesdGcWEZSpgqSlM6VaNxVrqrXehVZCIqrkNxfnMgA5KFGS6RQYtpuV3-XarhDHZX78bKtPsdhhojzhaXZC5OziX2BucbMywum5rt_Cns3NMp5uqmOvEzLv547cE_0bd2/s320/DSC_5197.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-dgmuy3583Lfgbhg-wTUZQ5JYB0HJnfVys2Tjp_zih98uJVqlSr3DY7Jh2WbZjndkLIKfh0w0XhKTuyBZC9tmWYd83Ff1YcYtE9OLB5k-m5XmQmgM5oueIUnj8O5BALCK0Lp_sy_-ykJ/s1600/DSC_5198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-dgmuy3583Lfgbhg-wTUZQ5JYB0HJnfVys2Tjp_zih98uJVqlSr3DY7Jh2WbZjndkLIKfh0w0XhKTuyBZC9tmWYd83Ff1YcYtE9OLB5k-m5XmQmgM5oueIUnj8O5BALCK0Lp_sy_-ykJ/s320/DSC_5198.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from upstairs into my poor, poor foyer</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-61704629216541624072012-03-30T18:29:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:46.052-08:00No Guts, No Glory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></span><br />Oh what a week it's been! On Saturday we had the Taper walk through the house with us to talk about what in the world we could do with our beyond-cracked ceilings and walls. We were pretty certain that the upstairs was beyond help (the ceiling in our bedroom resembled the state lines in a map of of the USA) but we were uncertain about what to do with the now acoustic-tileless ceilings downstairs. Plus where the old roof had ostensibly been leaking its freaking face off there was more of that adorable mold on the plaster on the north side of the house under each window. Oh! And the giant holes in the two smaller bedrooms. And the crumbly plaster over the fireplace...So yeah, we had a few questions. As predicted, the Taper's advice was simple: gut it.<br /><br />I happen to quite like plaster- I think it has character that drywall can't imitate, plus it's great for sound insulation. When we bought the house my strong inclination was to try to save as much plaster as feasibly possible to keep the integrity of the house's aesthetic. But a funny thing happens when you sign on the dotted line and take ownership of a place- you start thinking about the stuff you can't see. You think about it A LOT. You think about termites and rusty pipes and asbestos and creeping crawling lurking<i> issues</i> that are just waiting until you and your babies are all snuggly moved into the place and you've spent your last 2k on a fancy fridge to rear their ugly heads. Long story short, after the overwhelming impression we've reached that this house has been neglected for at least 30 years, we needed to know what was going on in there. And since they don't make an MRI machine big enough, that meant getting the old walls off so's we could see what we could see. Plus once the walls were open we could re-wire the seriously scary outlets and insulate and all that good stuff.<br /><br />So we made a compromise- instead of gutting the whole thing stem to stern as the Taper suggested, we kept the foyer intact -the plaster in there is in the best shape and I truly feel like it's the part of the house with the most innate character. Oh, and then there's the fact that it's one less place for us to spend money. Yeah- that might have something to do with it too. We also left the upstairs hallway, and, if you can believe it, the back room of hideous blue and brown flowers and stripes. Wait- I haven't showed you the famous blue room? How could I have left it off??! Here you go:<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJQRkxn6G59X9UbryuyFYjJc8xGemUbmnIfAOc1QVLfdxPioWTZ_MdycVylJbKTKUuh5knM_t2DjCf4PILFBs0SnyM8W3sFm1ormi6PU_WQZ6p0JGSAACBQ3rOcAwUPJQU-KFBuvYuM3H/s1600/DSC_5076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJQRkxn6G59X9UbryuyFYjJc8xGemUbmnIfAOc1QVLfdxPioWTZ_MdycVylJbKTKUuh5knM_t2DjCf4PILFBs0SnyM8W3sFm1ormi6PU_WQZ6p0JGSAACBQ3rOcAwUPJQU-KFBuvYuM3H/s320/DSC_5076.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To quote my brother, "Dang. That is so ugly it's almost back in style."</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That room has, if you can believe it, the most current reno on it- it's got modern wiring and the walls are very much intact. Also, it's current life will be as my work-from-home office, so it frankly doesn't warrant the money to love it up. <br /><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But everything else is out, baby. The next step was figuring out just how to make said gut-job happen. Gavin was more than willing to do most of the filthy job himself, but he only has 2 weeks off coming from work, and he is only one man. I have next to no time what with the kids and work, and even if the two of us worked 12 hours a day I don't think we could even begin to make a dent in two measly weeks. So we decided to call for some quotes to see if we couldn't get a crew of guys in to knock the whole job out and cart away the resulting garbage while they were at it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We called a few guys and got demoralizingly expensive estimates- literally all of our budget's worth of money just to destroy the house we were trying to fix. We were just resolving ourselves to doing the work as best we could with whatever friends and family we could bamboozle into helping us when the sky parted, a perfect shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, and standing in that light was a wee man named Israel.<br /><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He was recommended to us from friends of my Mom who swore by him; we had little faith at this point that we could afford anyone but figured it couldn't hurt to have one more guy take a look. He's a small, soft-spoken man of very few words. He listened patiently while I told him how I wanted to save as much of the molding as I could, and unlike the men who came before him, he didn't tell me it wasn't worth saving and I should just "buy some new molding at Home Depot". He agreed that the foyer was fine to save and just needed a little polish coat to fix some minor cracks. He walked around the place with me for about 15 minutes, took notes in a little spiral notebook, and then proceeded to quote us a<i> quarter of the price</i> of all the other contractors. He told me he knew we were on a budget, and he could also see we had plenty of projects for him in the future, so essentially, he was giving us a break(!). I almost couldn't shake his hand fast enough, and by THE NEXT DAY, he had a crew of guys and a dumpster in our driveway, and the great gut began (forgot my camera so excuse crappy cell-phone pics):</div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9Spb5sNJo9mjRW-HPyoDFN7-nrnCx98vEiuAEV9MjQCS6AdCw-1xQtkWq7lZdeZQM9uHxdvTwhI6UZJVi1zev5sniYGV-_oGW3UtQrnYVa3vR5Tdmtz8t-ELoTOmxvMDzq304S2t2hlE/s1600/IMG_1406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9Spb5sNJo9mjRW-HPyoDFN7-nrnCx98vEiuAEV9MjQCS6AdCw-1xQtkWq7lZdeZQM9uHxdvTwhI6UZJVi1zev5sniYGV-_oGW3UtQrnYVa3vR5Tdmtz8t-ELoTOmxvMDzq304S2t2hlE/s320/IMG_1406.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our scary-full dumpster. Almost 6 TONS of plaster and lathe.<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGJRzhXEKwDsZgKfPe8sFtCP8U3BKufQeOJQMeR7xyle0qzIui6tuFWvA7kAfeZor8vnFBE2TP06ybBPIKhENlfHE-2FHlWg5vdlfXLzz1IA-0_1onYZzZWcrJKIrVOQhITiM7AS2CUAi/s1600/IMG_1408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGJRzhXEKwDsZgKfPe8sFtCP8U3BKufQeOJQMeR7xyle0qzIui6tuFWvA7kAfeZor8vnFBE2TP06ybBPIKhENlfHE-2FHlWg5vdlfXLzz1IA-0_1onYZzZWcrJKIrVOQhITiM7AS2CUAi/s320/IMG_1408.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dining Room- they pulled the mantle off and saved it! :)</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCJoDR2QkGgPx2RYRFJvlFGnUb05JGip91Kknwwmak9HjFU4DVu7wg6miTnJ6LqNy0w1bR6GOXYPWvM_jeydHIy7AYQ9hpn_xk65YmXllBH3xzENCM2nzmtyZ1z_XqwbIUCZ86Te1LiSr/s1600/IMG_1407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCJoDR2QkGgPx2RYRFJvlFGnUb05JGip91Kknwwmak9HjFU4DVu7wg6miTnJ6LqNy0w1bR6GOXYPWvM_jeydHIy7AYQ9hpn_xk65YmXllBH3xzENCM2nzmtyZ1z_XqwbIUCZ86Te1LiSr/s320/IMG_1407.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the window INSIDE the living room wall from when it was part of the porch. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lPY4BkRKfpid_i52mKewyuydedHWTktRhoJ_tZsozXAZzGwp-FzSj8zbPByfGlE8HWCXha_4C_FkqP9n-s7amki8FaU0-3CiVyAQOBoGvdb_tdoxTx9jDqsjBXt7kWtrDpYXEj_V76Hc/s1600/IMG_1409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lPY4BkRKfpid_i52mKewyuydedHWTktRhoJ_tZsozXAZzGwp-FzSj8zbPByfGlE8HWCXha_4C_FkqP9n-s7amki8FaU0-3CiVyAQOBoGvdb_tdoxTx9jDqsjBXt7kWtrDpYXEj_V76Hc/s320/IMG_1409.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dining Room Some More- that's all molding they saved. <br />Some will be re-usable, some won't, but we'll find a purpose for all of it...</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGgDRK3btdEcwmFfxoiVFy80ZWhJilSpAXMKEu42um28tqQSpePlTk4d465smQ5zFx1qYe0Qh3pALos0UWknRvz2fWze8QvIqJhUIUn3kap_MfWoS0Lwksfjt8n4VCeE5v3jFUwy6I0vjP/s1600/IMG_1410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGgDRK3btdEcwmFfxoiVFy80ZWhJilSpAXMKEu42um28tqQSpePlTk4d465smQ5zFx1qYe0Qh3pALos0UWknRvz2fWze8QvIqJhUIUn3kap_MfWoS0Lwksfjt8n4VCeE5v3jFUwy6I0vjP/s320/IMG_1410.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pocket Door. Still in Pocket. :)</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6I0iKnMewuzId4XxJsro0M0jeFR6dpv7ys6dIxXRuLZxrQzbg1yj1RsMSC7wigzkrKlOzhYIfxe3-zO5TP11LId6FwO9AN3iwD-elyl1Rb4ZKzuXQCWDPfoYWHsWmvsZpBugSv06eD7Yg/s1600/IMG_1415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6I0iKnMewuzId4XxJsro0M0jeFR6dpv7ys6dIxXRuLZxrQzbg1yj1RsMSC7wigzkrKlOzhYIfxe3-zO5TP11LId6FwO9AN3iwD-elyl1Rb4ZKzuXQCWDPfoYWHsWmvsZpBugSv06eD7Yg/s320/IMG_1415.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wesley's (?) Room</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6w2JhjObGWwp3QugR0w-MHbK8FkE22An5GwBx6whKEcxuJ1A_Av7O_h32VzxVLrdnB2HctmKZkuCEc_BVjqEHS-RRPM7bxAod05a81U_dePzHZBQuvoeE22bBw-OWj-kd2AyYkQW8mAA/s1600/IMG_1416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6w2JhjObGWwp3QugR0w-MHbK8FkE22An5GwBx6whKEcxuJ1A_Av7O_h32VzxVLrdnB2HctmKZkuCEc_BVjqEHS-RRPM7bxAod05a81U_dePzHZBQuvoeE22bBw-OWj-kd2AyYkQW8mAA/s320/IMG_1416.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bathroom. It actually looks better this way...</td></tr></tbody></table>Really, if you have never experienced demo-ing plaster and lathe, it is one of the most backbreaking, dirty jobs imaginable- dust, heavy lifting (plaster weighs 85lbs a cubic foot, btw), lead paint- you name it. Israel's crew worked like freaking machines and in just a couple of days accomplished more than we could have in a month. Amazing. Suffice it to say, if you need a good reccommendation for work on your house, drop me a line- I have a guy.<br /><div><br />In other news (cause, like, taking the guts out of the entire house isn't enough for one week) the guys came back to do the aforementioned tar-job on the chimney. They climbed up there and then called to Gavin who was standing on the ground below. One guy took his pinky finger and with it pushed over one whole corner of bricks on our chimney. Basically, the whole bloody thing is shot. New chimney must be built. For a fireplace that, as it turns out, was coal-burning and so will not be able to be used for wood any damn way(maybe gas one day?). There goes another 2.5k out the window. Awesomesauce.<br /><div><br /><div>But! On a happier note! We actually completed something! You may recall that our prior cellar door was an experiment in rust and debris covered over by a tarp and bug larvae? Yes? Well, with the help of my wonderful Uncle Andrew, Gavin replaced it with a strong, clean new door. One thing can be officially checked off the master list. We'll take small satisfactions where we can get them:</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0agmlDV97hxd-5RSjj7jYDdZhuID9-u4GLrq8LSAjjEeZjUq-yFixuC_gHV4MjhFUk0FsMWGI0lblLACbasVinS_ZSyy-lehXat-PseiuBgETaUgail4r771b_sl0Ro51vwbHr2JC2lH/s1600/IMG_1403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0agmlDV97hxd-5RSjj7jYDdZhuID9-u4GLrq8LSAjjEeZjUq-yFixuC_gHV4MjhFUk0FsMWGI0lblLACbasVinS_ZSyy-lehXat-PseiuBgETaUgail4r771b_sl0Ro51vwbHr2JC2lH/s320/IMG_1403.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Crap Doors!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Mb3fnUFOa0Ln_pggavzz6J9neUklwzLPL1BD5rBGNVFH0KUf45y7H2LPSJhfLlSh3R2LDtfuW0QNO6ZgQqFHq8JZbh8TxIGD62l9N-WiXw1v2VsVQXhhiCzAUlq5KqH_iVBL91lkToPB/s1600/IMG_1404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Mb3fnUFOa0Ln_pggavzz6J9neUklwzLPL1BD5rBGNVFH0KUf45y7H2LPSJhfLlSh3R2LDtfuW0QNO6ZgQqFHq8JZbh8TxIGD62l9N-WiXw1v2VsVQXhhiCzAUlq5KqH_iVBL91lkToPB/s320/IMG_1404.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Wonder-Doors!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_CcMlIwx3BpPOzwWpIOAYkc0ApanX2t0s-AwN8UQ37pKvPyKDURe7YT5raELJYXJrHPJA2y2rGGHErqrJsCZ1tCIlUuNaE-2UTUrWY_2XjEw843BcgwO7VkwXLt5b2cdiIeWCqFBDd5fm/s1600/IMG_1405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_CcMlIwx3BpPOzwWpIOAYkc0ApanX2t0s-AwN8UQ37pKvPyKDURe7YT5raELJYXJrHPJA2y2rGGHErqrJsCZ1tCIlUuNaE-2UTUrWY_2XjEw843BcgwO7VkwXLt5b2cdiIeWCqFBDd5fm/s320/IMG_1405.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Emerging Like Handy Bear From Cave!</td></tr></tbody></table>Yeah, so it's been a pricey, exhausting week. But we have a certain sense of peace now, knowing everything there is to know about what our house's inside's look like. Some of it aint pretty (is that asbestos I see wrapped around our ductwork???) but now we know what we are dealing with. We are not naive enough to think this means there will be no more surprises (I'm looking at you, plumbing) but at least we can make our list of priorities based on reality and not assumptions. Or something. Anywho, next week- Gavin is off! His folks come to see our crazy house! We may put up a wall or two! Huzzah!<br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div></div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-70792369592781992812012-03-23T19:52:00.003-07:002012-03-23T19:53:31.373-07:00Luck of the Irish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-81620769138970831462012-03-23T19:45:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:46.075-08:00Into the BreachThere is knowing that your house is going to need "a lot of work" and then there is living it. This house, friends and neighbors, needs A. Lot. Of. Work. If there was a movie made about this house, it would be called "A Lot of Work: The Blue Elephant Story." Or just "Fright Night". It is not like one of those shows on HGTV where the couple debates buying a house and they say "There is just too much work!" because the paint is an ugly color or the bathroom fixtures are outdated. This is like an HGTV show where the couple walks in and then runs out screaming, because zombies are coming up from the basement and mutant Termite Monsters are swinging from the chandeliers, and that same couple end up rocking on the floor sucking their thumbs and humming, just trying to forget...<br /><br />Let's recap. This week I kicked off the festivities by coming to the house at night the day after we closed and began tearing out the carpets and curtains upstairs. We knew for sure that the worst of the visible damage was upstairs (with the exception of Hell Bathroom downstairs- but that's another story for another day) but had no idea just how awful things were with the condition of the walls. In one bedroom there is an entire wall being held up by the tenacity of the dingy floral wallpaper. In the bedroom next door, I pulled back the colorless rug (I think in another life it was sea-foam green?) to find that the padding beneath was so old it had literally disintegrated into orange dust- I was able to fill a shop vac sucking up a room's worth of foam-dust. I filled 5 contractor bags with stick-em tiles from under the rugs and tossed curtains that were so old and dirty they could stand straight up off the rods. But! The good news! Under the horror of the rugs were unfinished pine floors- so no wall-to-wall carpet will be needed! Hoorah for unspent money!!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWkIrO9zd2QVVhb71mxvNPmh9rWLbexBKlafpyapDSdNxHMDY8YymCgeGxEpAbrMskJ_GZhT2bIpT_b583J2yPFlI1K7Usi7oBqH0WXnKC4vQ08LmmEBOfFFn7iWJbbIr33r7B3MQzNG1/s1600/DSC_5170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWkIrO9zd2QVVhb71mxvNPmh9rWLbexBKlafpyapDSdNxHMDY8YymCgeGxEpAbrMskJ_GZhT2bIpT_b583J2yPFlI1K7Usi7oBqH0WXnKC4vQ08LmmEBOfFFn7iWJbbIr33r7B3MQzNG1/s320/DSC_5170.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Vacuuming up The Orange Carpet "Padding" Note the artfully placed hole in the plaster.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9GzjvU91Bju9So9LPRQgkEshCKq_mnfkq8N1dxqIPzUABdkeV8tjceM9dfxc-Gk8HyqSTQqb9kS04o-VLPkY-KPLzB8vl6K01xEhohpw5Zi8cAevvChbPmid0mtKJQTezsJ7ko-dD8Zf/s1600/DSC_5179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9GzjvU91Bju9So9LPRQgkEshCKq_mnfkq8N1dxqIPzUABdkeV8tjceM9dfxc-Gk8HyqSTQqb9kS04o-VLPkY-KPLzB8vl6K01xEhohpw5Zi8cAevvChbPmid0mtKJQTezsJ7ko-dD8Zf/s320/DSC_5179.JPG" width="320" /></a>Next Mom, my grandmother and I went on a quick tour of the house (Grammy hadn't seen it) and couldn't help but tear down some wallpaper while we were there (yes, my 87 year old grandmother was put to work. We do not age-discriminate at the Elephant). We found a weird/cool Chinese-style mural under one wall's worth of paper in the living room (see pic left) and a lifetime's worth of MOLD under another in the kitchen. NOOOOO!!! It seems like it was part of some bathroomtastrophe from the past- there was clear warping from water damage in the stick-em tiles outside the bathroom door and in an entire house of plaster the only new sheetrock is in the kitchen ceiling below said bathroom (which by the way has a lovely painted plywood panel in place of tile in the tub, ostensibly for quick access to whatever pipe-demon had caused the flood I deduce caused all this damage). I guess that was where repairs stopped because some seriously scary beardy-black mold was practically flipping me off once we got rid of a big swatch of (mustard and green plaid- my hand to God) wallpaper. Ok house. You win. For NOW.<br /><br />So let's see- that was day 3. On day four Gavin began by spraying some bleach water on the mold (we will tear out the wall later). He also tore out the big sheets of brown faux-wood panelling in the kitchen. Yes, the same kitchen with the green and mustard wallpaper. I'll give you a moment to process how pretty it was. Oh, and sea-foam green painted cabinets. Yeah....now you're there.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeHBMrmm-oAWZW7CaU1BGwVjkAifbRyiIyvsAcgOs6ozCm-qEO-p884Kuf9TnEojZipfZnO9Pnpdzyxruys6tRehZES-lw2WSOIXwuB2cxeGpP7V3-LDBEE1yr5AtB-3MfPkSmxx6C4vT/s1600/kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeHBMrmm-oAWZW7CaU1BGwVjkAifbRyiIyvsAcgOs6ozCm-qEO-p884Kuf9TnEojZipfZnO9Pnpdzyxruys6tRehZES-lw2WSOIXwuB2cxeGpP7V3-LDBEE1yr5AtB-3MfPkSmxx6C4vT/s320/kitchen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Current color-scheme of our kitchen. It is the full spectrum of colors found in infant diapers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>At some point he went down to the basement to get a tool or something and BOO-YAH- a giant puddle of water. I had turned the water on the night before so I guess it served me right. I should have known better than to just assume basic plumbing is, like, a thing. Thank God turns out it was a simple fix of tightening a couple of pipe joints but just the Elephant's way of reminding us who's the boss (It's Tony Danza. That's who). <br /><br />On this same day we got the first quote from a roofing company to flash our chimney. You see one of the selling points (hah!) of the Elephant was that there is a very well-done brand new roof. There apparantly was not, however, any attempt made to seal around the chimney (usually done with metal "flashing" which is kind of layered like fish scales at the base to keep water out). So a van rolls up and all these bizarre little men come pouring out. My brother Joe wondered out loud if they had been bred for chimney maintenance over the generations- they were all tiny and had weirdly large teeth and beedy eyes and were clearly related. Any-who, they walked up to our attic to look and point at where the sunlight glints in around the chimney gaps, said something to each other in Chimnese and then quoted us $1850.00. Har. De har har. When I actually laughed out loud in their faces they immediately dropped it to $1400 but at that point I was already dialing another company for another quote.<br /><br />Which brings us to day 4. I forgot to mention that our cellar doors (the double sided hatch-type ones like they use for tornado shelters in movies) are literally rusted through with giant decroded holes all over and blue tarp and logs on top to keep the elements out. Really, this was the solution someone came to. So we had to order a new set, and because God has a sense of humor the only place that carried our size was a Lowes about an hour and a half drive from where we live. The other option was to order a different brand at nearly twice the price so of course we loaded an infant and a toddler into our Santa Fe and away we went. I had thought to ask over the phone how big the box was and I felt confident it would fit in the car. What they neglected to mention was that this box weighed about 300 pounds. Oh, and once Gavin had given himself a near-hernia getting it into the back of the car it rattled the whole way home like a box car full of ball bearings, causing the baby to endlessly howl in annoyed rage. Goodtimes.<br /><br />But we got it to the house. Gavin then began ripping the acoustic tile off the downstairs ceiling (while I wrangled the babies and worked from Mom's local and lead paint dust-free house) to reveal how bad the plaster was under there; the plan is to reveal as much as we can throughout the house so we can make an educated decision this weekend as to what our game plan is re: ripping out walls, etc. The good news- the bowing we saw above the mantle in the dining room fireplace was not from bricks crumbling in on us as we initially feared but just some manky plaster falling behind a piece of plasterboard that had been slapped up as a quick fix. The bad news- chimney guy number two informed us, after walking our roof, that if he really wanted to he "could kick the whole sonofabitch chimney right over. It's shot." Awesome. Well, we weren't under the impression that the fireplace worked, so not the end of the world I guess. Plus turns out that until we are ready to rebuild the chimney, it would be stupid to do metal flashing (like putting a nice new brass bell on a sinking ship) and he suggested meshing and tarring the whole thing and doing a rain barrier. Long story short- half the price and they guarantee their work not to leak. Works for me.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsQaLLW34xT5DcHytUJLXaVZZGoUJiLokq8sWbvAQfqQyN2wWh2D9Yghtk3wz_B2lKYmrcA_u2s5tmNn4AOSGo3HcsHFx1ZdqdKe34M8S9MA_vokpheWCIQuz09qXdzgeDuZsSh3AAgFB/s1600/DSC_5182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsQaLLW34xT5DcHytUJLXaVZZGoUJiLokq8sWbvAQfqQyN2wWh2D9Yghtk3wz_B2lKYmrcA_u2s5tmNn4AOSGo3HcsHFx1ZdqdKe34M8S9MA_vokpheWCIQuz09qXdzgeDuZsSh3AAgFB/s320/DSC_5182.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Above Our Mantle (Hey, the chimney's not collapsing- just the wall! Yay?)</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>And finally, as we were packing in day four, a wee winged insect landed on my hand. Gavin said "That's not a termite, is it?" "No babe!" says I. "Termites look like this..." I whip out my trusty iPhone, do a quick search, and proceed to pull up a photo that Mr. Bug-on-my-hand could have posed for. So yeah, turns out termites "swarm in spring" and they are swarming their asses off all over our porch. There is a termite contract on the house so our bug man will be there next week to well and truly kill the little bastards, but the idea that creatures are actively eating his house has Gavin freaking the freak out. This morning he said to me "I just feel like I'm gonna open a wall and there will be a million termites in there, doing cartwheels and eating and crapping all at the same time..."<br /><br />Tomorrow we meet with my uncle Joe (who hereafter shall be referred to as "the Taper" since there are no less than three "Joe"s involved in the rehab of this house) for walk through. He is a professional drywaller (you didn't think we were doing this <i>completely</i> unarmed, did you??) and he will give us his opinion as to what we should do with our walls. I can hear the words "Gut it!" in my very near future.....<br /><br />So that was the first week. Wow. But....Onward and upward! Into the fray! Fight the good fight! A bunch of other uplifting platitudes! Wheee!<br /><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-13452438959571026072012-03-16T18:16:00.000-07:002013-02-27T05:20:46.086-08:00The First Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfdNOQv2O_aYWF8hdj6N74foiiRCOo8lOuLob6roOtKMrz02ipuS8fWxbxbnpXApwb3tiXFHtthGnMYhUMhTotKrkCz-5HCjcTv-yi21p82_kj5xg0uEcggqc04YPFc5sDTcKoos9sUEe/s1600/DSC_5119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfdNOQv2O_aYWF8hdj6N74foiiRCOo8lOuLob6roOtKMrz02ipuS8fWxbxbnpXApwb3tiXFHtthGnMYhUMhTotKrkCz-5HCjcTv-yi21p82_kj5xg0uEcggqc04YPFc5sDTcKoos9sUEe/s320/DSC_5119.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">So here we go. About 2 1/2 months ago, on Gavin's birthday, in fact, we went to see a certain sprawling blue house. From the moment we walked in one word was forefront in our silly, starstruck minds: potential. Po-freakin-tential. Sure, the plaster was cracking or gone in <strike>many</strike> all places, and the kitchen hadn't been updated since the Nixon administration, and a certain bathroom seemed to not only have been designed by Sunoco but to actually be slowly falling off the back of the house, but underneath all of this, we couldn't shake the feeling that this house could really be something special. Oh, and it was going for a song (because, quel surprise, not very many people seemed to see all that raging potential under the mountain of dirty sweaty LABOR that was also in very much in evidence). </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a long bout of doubts, and inspections, and price reductions, and more inspections, we decided that we did in fact want to see what we could do about knocking some of the "rough" off this old diamond. And today, we signed an absolutely insane amount of paperwork to legally make it ours. Going forward on this blog I will show you plenty of the hideously ugly features of our Blue Elephant as we chisel through the Bad and the Ugly to get to the Good. But for today, the first day, let's just enjoy a bit of that lovely potential, shall we?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdiR8JgxilxvUsQ-gbOG0Ggg2AhfyhiVEY9JIy_RE6wGbJlTLTVNz0ObF3Fvrbzou03VOrPOq764lrKCcNIkjLfbeJdPNTU4hOj5UVzPHkZTQ3jiHjGiTXBbrcPkQgv-tIl7vcV-ikk2I/s1600/DSC_5042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdiR8JgxilxvUsQ-gbOG0Ggg2AhfyhiVEY9JIy_RE6wGbJlTLTVNz0ObF3Fvrbzou03VOrPOq764lrKCcNIkjLfbeJdPNTU4hOj5UVzPHkZTQ3jiHjGiTXBbrcPkQgv-tIl7vcV-ikk2I/s320/DSC_5042.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Opening the door for the very first time!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_jXh27Wqfa92WnJn-oqF7YjjojQoZdCyTxLpgZbEcoE_bWcyWoLAH_NQ0yRav7gDr1HNDFT4jKOJ46m2Sn_tftm7hTGmp71CzsNTYGjf2Em9lH-s2hMTgFpHLNHSAzy5-bnvIcv4vxZD5/s1600/DSC_5052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_jXh27Wqfa92WnJn-oqF7YjjojQoZdCyTxLpgZbEcoE_bWcyWoLAH_NQ0yRav7gDr1HNDFT4jKOJ46m2Sn_tftm7hTGmp71CzsNTYGjf2Em9lH-s2hMTgFpHLNHSAzy5-bnvIcv4vxZD5/s320/DSC_5052.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A bit of champagne....</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDOG4sk0uleFTre-IuY3gEQFVDhkUn15X31oSRtfH_WtavsD2Jpb3-xyRVpZMdhaOiijYSDp5p4ceuWJ2iJSValEPj7oNjwl8WuBYacYJo6vDvF37rIk8ms1XmZ28v5Awib7DVrsMMNdR-/s1600/DSC_5053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDOG4sk0uleFTre-IuY3gEQFVDhkUn15X31oSRtfH_WtavsD2Jpb3-xyRVpZMdhaOiijYSDp5p4ceuWJ2iJSValEPj7oNjwl8WuBYacYJo6vDvF37rIk8ms1XmZ28v5Awib7DVrsMMNdR-/s320/DSC_5053.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The foyer</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrunCGVNYy_90nG5SUdym8QaTyqK1vmebf6v41tvU-Wv3MMu9AwrZYb5egpDEY-s69dC5Di5ukbnqnkVWXH_8RkCvU4izPjJSSaloixPkT2K4frrC8gtYOK9EKxDXawWZ52nFKBuA5okJi/s1600/DSC_5056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrunCGVNYy_90nG5SUdym8QaTyqK1vmebf6v41tvU-Wv3MMu9AwrZYb5egpDEY-s69dC5Di5ukbnqnkVWXH_8RkCvU4izPjJSSaloixPkT2K4frrC8gtYOK9EKxDXawWZ52nFKBuA5okJi/s320/DSC_5056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It is impossible to tell from this photo how incredibly monstrous this wallpaper looks in real life...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJyA5x2g_yiqH2C7pZhz3l_JGzHUieV7YUZ7cb3WKDpublOslWo1dpFaD-H0bjVvBvaN86JjpxnmGravAD5PTMb3mFxns2aFwIz1rt3wmPao7chNOWH6zEhtbn7mE_qNKioqJ5HyG__B8/s1600/DSC_5057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJyA5x2g_yiqH2C7pZhz3l_JGzHUieV7YUZ7cb3WKDpublOslWo1dpFaD-H0bjVvBvaN86JjpxnmGravAD5PTMb3mFxns2aFwIz1rt3wmPao7chNOWH6zEhtbn7mE_qNKioqJ5HyG__B8/s320/DSC_5057.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Pocket doors!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSY9szzS6KJxpFzu2cDmE58Ytq6WH5avtJiEGzEAqJawoLHQAPHoMvvzazgrWUKs3wfhhhqJ5yq_p-sobq0lCdrdhrLgbDus6bMgLCekPtdy4kU5LqY4nODsefsiEuOyz5Q9DEnrsCzgF/s1600/DSC_5059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSY9szzS6KJxpFzu2cDmE58Ytq6WH5avtJiEGzEAqJawoLHQAPHoMvvzazgrWUKs3wfhhhqJ5yq_p-sobq0lCdrdhrLgbDus6bMgLCekPtdy4kU5LqY4nODsefsiEuOyz5Q9DEnrsCzgF/s320/DSC_5059.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dining Room fireplace. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNhgNpXefQCb-uIZVM3nLAabULXfIECQpr1kclwdESkU0nixe1eThkLTUcyzIbvAMHarQegazIehyAnkFKwW_1YR4fRwyEyzu3yUtQj5XrfUA5T1DAXWO0mLSUBNBd6t8Xps_PBks_Azb/s1600/DSC_5069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNhgNpXefQCb-uIZVM3nLAabULXfIECQpr1kclwdESkU0nixe1eThkLTUcyzIbvAMHarQegazIehyAnkFKwW_1YR4fRwyEyzu3yUtQj5XrfUA5T1DAXWO0mLSUBNBd6t8Xps_PBks_Azb/s320/DSC_5069.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lots of light!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-iBTD8dNfcMUkwlhtiC9E4j3N1ms3DJ1a3GXMwzjT9qIf6Uphgj4KYOkRCF6l-Ksw34VsN_z0aLx5NxH8OS9Oz26Gwi8N1_UbXUGPW5Vu2KdhVFNA1PeRFJ32-quoGmtY7uHDVX65SlP/s1600/DSC_5078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-iBTD8dNfcMUkwlhtiC9E4j3N1ms3DJ1a3GXMwzjT9qIf6Uphgj4KYOkRCF6l-Ksw34VsN_z0aLx5NxH8OS9Oz26Gwi8N1_UbXUGPW5Vu2KdhVFNA1PeRFJ32-quoGmtY7uHDVX65SlP/s320/DSC_5078.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In the attic we found a bunch of Playbills from the 1950s...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFMiWPPtIQ_zoyuM91FcNtwIJmsRvCcFdMamV0uc8llhNABCrr5nQZESWNhZiBFR1AwZV7O4jTP9DObHER1hWMgWfUhR3RVS6h13ICFkEbt4Zyb8exux04lsPtaDkSSSCKlZRP1TGaq5P/s1600/DSC_5079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFMiWPPtIQ_zoyuM91FcNtwIJmsRvCcFdMamV0uc8llhNABCrr5nQZESWNhZiBFR1AwZV7O4jTP9DObHER1hWMgWfUhR3RVS6h13ICFkEbt4Zyb8exux04lsPtaDkSSSCKlZRP1TGaq5P/s320/DSC_5079.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And someone's stamp collection as well.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYrWjLWRoaFSjhpaN6ep1DSeM39L-YpP6LVsuWz2qva7F2nHJi2_7HyGZWxCPFeMq4wklKZ5GuUibuTT4LEzjw2XY1tyhRcT6CB2qoJZKG9deP6PqTGCrEaqKdseSLGORFPd396wo-664/s1600/DSC_5095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYrWjLWRoaFSjhpaN6ep1DSeM39L-YpP6LVsuWz2qva7F2nHJi2_7HyGZWxCPFeMq4wklKZ5GuUibuTT4LEzjw2XY1tyhRcT6CB2qoJZKG9deP6PqTGCrEaqKdseSLGORFPd396wo-664/s320/DSC_5095.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR85tFprva0NQRvhYxS5M35Bi-z6CWicOVF1gnkAnY0kqdbu6Xxm8pkr1LguhZ8aBUU-fxm5UjftGkP1RNbAKaIAY3DGiwx13nGhBhWvOVMzD4p9MjaOrhtN0hpHQa2-tE8YBGwKyzRosG/s1600/DSC_5100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR85tFprva0NQRvhYxS5M35Bi-z6CWicOVF1gnkAnY0kqdbu6Xxm8pkr1LguhZ8aBUU-fxm5UjftGkP1RNbAKaIAY3DGiwx13nGhBhWvOVMzD4p9MjaOrhtN0hpHQa2-tE8YBGwKyzRosG/s320/DSC_5100.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFi8EIuOuxk4p1XlLuG5-wMOpp3NoVPHKE-tGH6kkHVv53hvW6Fty2zNTD4KtZIkwefTVme2ydFVrVcBC2jro9GVPjq32TPIQ0ZktPs3lvMhVZ15wdszwe1O3jE_zfRzgz4t9EvXRVz40v/s1600/DSC_5104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFi8EIuOuxk4p1XlLuG5-wMOpp3NoVPHKE-tGH6kkHVv53hvW6Fty2zNTD4KtZIkwefTVme2ydFVrVcBC2jro9GVPjq32TPIQ0ZktPs3lvMhVZ15wdszwe1O3jE_zfRzgz4t9EvXRVz40v/s320/DSC_5104.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtAZaUFxAEo_YMCqq9hyl6yjMyZRQP7cN1eqw5GEhUnSZ-khLiYezsl5GISIPk0ouJ9LxVaR67bC8d5Jp4sg9fe-HAQiydQJqwV0zMlBf48oMC8rNPeKL-te66NyvC7_Zap9BiakRFa7p/s1600/DSC_5108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtAZaUFxAEo_YMCqq9hyl6yjMyZRQP7cN1eqw5GEhUnSZ-khLiYezsl5GISIPk0ouJ9LxVaR67bC8d5Jp4sg9fe-HAQiydQJqwV0zMlBf48oMC8rNPeKL-te66NyvC7_Zap9BiakRFa7p/s320/DSC_5108.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhN9tS9mqjCyac5K82yQEBG6qt6ju6nwwx0Usj-IMUkuUZhFjNkjt_WAEQnszPqFhmGJNlaQBIKrnCmeoullyo4qcT0waTZPozqYHwKXY-YjJ0zS0C017XV1p7-NU2-8XhyphenhyphenteFSUVlCmP/s1600/DSC_5125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhN9tS9mqjCyac5K82yQEBG6qt6ju6nwwx0Usj-IMUkuUZhFjNkjt_WAEQnszPqFhmGJNlaQBIKrnCmeoullyo4qcT0waTZPozqYHwKXY-YjJ0zS0C017XV1p7-NU2-8XhyphenhyphenteFSUVlCmP/s320/DSC_5125.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWlnNWy4EmJULlEq6jVoEf_L5UKGoe9zlbG79E26W2ZTX2FUf-y-Hd_Auds6-ZLRe8fokiK3JF1fZdcCfuxtdJ0J_BEzkSzqjaBKub8YTpu5N3Qo3ufKZkHZPUWkEzwZj8JVqDFBaGn5Xx/s1600/DSC_5129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWlnNWy4EmJULlEq6jVoEf_L5UKGoe9zlbG79E26W2ZTX2FUf-y-Hd_Auds6-ZLRe8fokiK3JF1fZdcCfuxtdJ0J_BEzkSzqjaBKub8YTpu5N3Qo3ufKZkHZPUWkEzwZj8JVqDFBaGn5Xx/s320/DSC_5129.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Carving our initials in the "locust post"...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq62cdR3RN1UcrP2z_4g0tMl_qZErqyj-vO9jkliwy8ONWgUm-A4jGrj_HtcEDiIfa6nzAqD2gemVlcYb0oT6JSlNjC8KQ9F5s3eWkwqrBkr_g3w7uRGjzz7clojKdy-8rLJDVFzyqqm5/s1600/DSC_5134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq62cdR3RN1UcrP2z_4g0tMl_qZErqyj-vO9jkliwy8ONWgUm-A4jGrj_HtcEDiIfa6nzAqD2gemVlcYb0oT6JSlNjC8KQ9F5s3eWkwqrBkr_g3w7uRGjzz7clojKdy-8rLJDVFzyqqm5/s320/DSC_5134.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4J9CEvrRDwPIavndJ1cZc3mqWBv3OhzzI-2B2uCtYNnFn6dP3K7uqBEcsCybaEXpZtO0hiLXl3FcycRwoD8Mfu1I626Iv6slvSDO_yoSHHP0S_JaZdoOsWGAMGNm5Pm-sE0X_IlUc21fO/s1600/DSC_5136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4J9CEvrRDwPIavndJ1cZc3mqWBv3OhzzI-2B2uCtYNnFn6dP3K7uqBEcsCybaEXpZtO0hiLXl3FcycRwoD8Mfu1I626Iv6slvSDO_yoSHHP0S_JaZdoOsWGAMGNm5Pm-sE0X_IlUc21fO/s320/DSC_5136.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">An Irishman goes through a pair of French doors...stop me if you've heard this one...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4omzIRNk4xQET9rnbs4s6LWumwSUgS5dVao2IVdbCWQ2GtUb6IR3egQQowP45aIaxYmuOQZckYGT3a7ZCzidnAISiQvqw0oExDiFOYJytzUx7bWvcGDy8L2_v8Itzw28uHQtzJlq2kRv/s1600/DSC_5139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4omzIRNk4xQET9rnbs4s6LWumwSUgS5dVao2IVdbCWQ2GtUb6IR3egQQowP45aIaxYmuOQZckYGT3a7ZCzidnAISiQvqw0oExDiFOYJytzUx7bWvcGDy8L2_v8Itzw28uHQtzJlq2kRv/s320/DSC_5139.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Found this leather-bound copy of Euripedes in the attic as well- dated 1928. I take it for a sign!</div><br />The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-46076846663982537952012-01-12T17:47:00.001-08:002012-01-12T18:36:53.449-08:00Thank Heaven for Little GirlsHaving a daughter inevitably brings memories of your own little-girlhood to the forefront. It's one of my favorite things about spending time with Gwendy- watching her experience things for the first time and remembering a time when the world was new and wonderfully confusing and crammed full of hidden delights and dilemmas. <div><br /></div><div>Today I painted her little finger nails an iridescent blue (a shade she picked herself at the drugstore). When I was done carefully dabbing color on her minuscule nails and blowing on each one in turn, I watched her gesticulate and wave away invisible fog, showing off her hands to herself like a newly-engaged debutante with a 3 carat rock. I was struck hard by the memory of myself as a child, delighting so thoroughly in my own red fingernails. I kept <i>noticing</i> them-how adult and legitimate they seemed- and went about finding new things to do with them so I could admire how they looked in different poses. Here are red nails holding a dinner fork! Here are red nails flouncing a hanky! How wonderful to feel such delight in something so very simple...</div><div><br /></div><div>And so tonight, at my girl's insistence, I painted my own nails for the first time in forever in that same blazing blue. And God, but I couldn't help but <i>notice</i> my hands all night- pouring in bubble bath, toweling off a squirmy toddler, tucking a blanket all the way up to her perfect little chin. And I took delight in this simple thing- having my girl and being a girl again with her. </div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-87890385380681599212012-01-01T06:37:00.000-08:002012-01-01T07:11:53.947-08:00Resolved:Instead of nebulous and unattainable goals for this year (Be kinder to myself!- what the f does that mean?), here are 10 completely do-able resolutions for the year to come:<div><br /><div>1. Shred documents that have personal info on them as I come across them, rather than just putting them in the ever-growing Bag Of Papers Intended for Future Shredding, or BOPIFFS, for short.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Spend more time cuddling my dogs. It's not their fault I'm all "touched out" by the end of a day of kid wrangling. Of course I'd be more kindly inclined to them if Emmy could go more than three days without managing to remove a diaper from the trash and shred it to bits all over the rug...</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Go to the dentist with consistency. Also, floss more. And also also, buy more floss instead of just keeping empty floss thing in medicine cabinet.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Throughly rinse out my recyclables rather than pass them under the faucet once regardless of amount of sticky gunge still stuck to insides.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Shave my legs with more frequency and more attention to detail, regardless of season.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Piggy-backing on #5, look at legs twice a week so as to avoid that queer feeling when you first put on shorts in the summer and it's like someone surgically grafted someone else's pale, chubby legs onto your torso whilst you were asleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Remember to bring non-disposable shopping bags to grocery store. I have enough disposable trash bags in my basement to melt them into a mold and make a usable kayak. I don't want to toss them, and yet have no use for them, so there you go.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. Eat less sugar (currently I am on the Hummingbird Diet).</div><div><br /></div><div>9. Go out for coffee/wine/whatever with friends without kids in tow at <i>least</i> once a month. </div><div><br /></div><div>10. Never utter the phrase "I'm so tired!" Because really? Everyone is tired.</div><div><br /></div><div>If I can hit 50% of these, I'll be in pretty good shape on my way to world dominance, I think. So, c'mon, 2012! Let's go!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-26916521102316008352011-10-04T12:49:00.001-07:002011-10-05T05:06:33.236-07:00A Perfect StormI was all set to finally post a new blog all about my lovely charming kids with little sentimental bits about the things I hope to remember about them at this age blahdy blah and then this afternoon happened. <div>To preface, Gwen has been learning to use the potty, and in the grand toddler tradition has this irrational fear of pooping any place but her diaper. So I bought her a toy and hid it in the closet and told her she could have it once she pooped on the potty and blah blah, a week of moderate pee success but no poop and then...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, please hit play on the song below while you read the rest. It really makes the story feel like it did in my head...</div><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZnHmskwqCCQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div>I am sitting on the couch in the living room with Wes in my lap when all of a sudden, Gwen, who'd been playing quietly a moment before starts going "AHH!! -<i>grunt</i>- <grunt>AhhhHHH!!-<i>grunt</i>-<grunt>AhhhHHHH!!" which I take to mean she is in the process of pooping her pants. So I put Wes down on the couch and run to scoop her up, trot to the potty, and pull down her pants and underwear all in one graceless movement as she starts a'poopin. </grunt></grunt></div><div><br /></div><div>As the #2 lands both in the potty and in said underwear, I notice Wesley has chosen this moment to learn how to roll onto his side and is nearing the edge of the couch. So I leave a Gwen who is now alternately laughing and screaming (knowing she's gonna get her "poop toy" but also freaking about the whole poop-process) to reset Wesley on the couch. </div><div><br /></div><div>I then grab Gwen who is finished and is trying to sit on the rug with her dirty butt and stuff her under my arm to take her with me to her bedroom to get wipes and new pants/underwear. I find said garments and then carry her back to the living room where what to my wondering eyes should appear but...</div><div><br /></div><div>EMMY EATING THE POOP OUT OF THE POTTY!!!!! Oh. My. God.</div><div><br /></div><div>I chase Emmy off (I think my exact words were</div><div>"OHMYGODNOOOOYOUARESOGROSSGETAWAAAYY!!!") and use the wipes to return the remaining poop to the potty. Wesley is now working on a front-to-feet roll forward so I retreive him and plop him in the bouncy. I race the potty back to the bathroom to dispose of its contents, et al. </div><div><br /></div><div>Upon returning to the living room Gwen is still standing there with her pants around ankles so I then clean her up and get her dressed.</div><div><br /></div><div>I proceed to catch Emmy and clean her mouth out with Crest Total Care Mouthwash, because WHAT THE HELL ELSE TO YOU USE TO CLEAN OUT THE MOUTH OF A PUG WHO JUST ATE FECES AND FREQUENTLY ENJOYS KISSING YOUR TODDLER ON THE MOUTH??!!??</div><div><br /></div><div>And that was my life from approximately 2:18-2:24. Jealous? Yeah, you know you are. Welcome back, blog.</div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-41870129376472824472011-07-24T10:49:00.000-07:002011-07-24T11:27:52.972-07:00Our Ship Comes In<div>And aboard it was a wee swarthy pirate named Wesley! Here's some pics of his birth and....aftermath? afterglow? I dunno.</div><div><br /></div><div>We were admitted around 1pm on 7/9. I'd been having contractions 5 minutes apart since about 4am that weren't getting stronger so we decided to head in and get checked out. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQv07DBvQ7BBzPH9jAhoJavTh_DAcTrWXoMCn_z93XJhRa8G3taAZsN1xpdz4t4XwEIA7ho91jNBxhATMlJHPYm6fawV6hXeAJnpscVXsKtTltOXWaaiJpMVcWP__wFtg6xtNXgcr56Md/s1600/DSC_3558.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQv07DBvQ7BBzPH9jAhoJavTh_DAcTrWXoMCn_z93XJhRa8G3taAZsN1xpdz4t4XwEIA7ho91jNBxhATMlJHPYm6fawV6hXeAJnpscVXsKtTltOXWaaiJpMVcWP__wFtg6xtNXgcr56Md/s320/DSC_3558.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632981833009516210" /></a><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQv07DBvQ7BBzPH9jAhoJavTh_DAcTrWXoMCn_z93XJhRa8G3taAZsN1xpdz4t4XwEIA7ho91jNBxhATMlJHPYm6fawV6hXeAJnpscVXsKtTltOXWaaiJpMVcWP__wFtg6xtNXgcr56Md/s1600/DSC_3558.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>Turns out I was in early labor, and the frequency of the contractions (which were 2 minutes apart by the time I was admitted) was due to dehydration. (S'riously, I don't know how I could have drank anymore. I was downing gallons of water each day and peeing like every 4 minutes) Dehydration made getting a viable IV in very...um....interesting. 8 sticks and a resident (2 very skilled nurses having been unable to get a vein) later, I had my saline drip. All my boo-boos:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOYScfIdP3n_CaZ9qp9sYIcRODLvrFcUVclhlkOHN_T77rSnlpDI8uFtPdjqIFxUWiDyoeF_uy5b_mIQs4JYkgYyGEq2soA52_nnWY5_RMyYTdhsG8GllUzjsHp-uMmJaThKn7RbT89XH/s1600/DSC_3561.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOYScfIdP3n_CaZ9qp9sYIcRODLvrFcUVclhlkOHN_T77rSnlpDI8uFtPdjqIFxUWiDyoeF_uy5b_mIQs4JYkgYyGEq2soA52_nnWY5_RMyYTdhsG8GllUzjsHp-uMmJaThKn7RbT89XH/s320/DSC_3561.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632981827039555362" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOYScfIdP3n_CaZ9qp9sYIcRODLvrFcUVclhlkOHN_T77rSnlpDI8uFtPdjqIFxUWiDyoeF_uy5b_mIQs4JYkgYyGEq2soA52_nnWY5_RMyYTdhsG8GllUzjsHp-uMmJaThKn7RbT89XH/s1600/DSC_3561.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>After a few hours and slow dilating (only between 3 and 4cms by now), my OB decided to break my water. That made things much more....interesting, pain-wise:</div><div> <img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-fcWDKgPG_2244kIT2f1W0dfEt9xLXZ8FwwtCgJq-m4miP1ppcrigZ3FfcNsGqY0KzJJE5KprU5td8VmwfM_zWh1767M4JcYeCcXnVzvGwLBw80_XihSFkXnvnsX8NAWBbsag6ws7qjK/s320/DSC_3570.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632981821817803522" /></div><div>There's a bit of a gap in photos here, as I had grown black bat wings and was ready to disembowel anyone bold enough to snap one. Here's where Mom and Gavin were truly awesome, being supportive and helpful and just getting me through it by any means necessary (including some ill-conceived comedy routines). </div><div>I opted for the epidural after about 5 hours of !<i>crazy!</i> pain only got me to 5 lousy centimeters dilation. Once the epi was done I was so giddy I could dance (ya know, but for the fact that my lower body was asleep). My contractions still hurt but were totally bearable and I felt so much more relaxed....Only 2 hours later I was at 10 cms and ready to rumble. My AMAZING OB suggested we try pushing, and about 15 minutes later...<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi44ma_pHoahQTbHOS7KeX4st1x6gLMLSs1-kPVv3YsVWolyJHOxfy4vOFT-KFkinxHzg3Siufpje78oBVLDpuhNY35MYFkFxb-Ba4ovQvyXf31KXUnXEqB1Sm_vBuydv0YaTbRGMM5bdda/s320/IMG_7291.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632978810491373954" /></div><div><br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaVDwFwQmd3OLaFPJ3EfXjsOTBzJxsdTLHuwVYgDlFmty7XDI57uZiSKSoDZQ62kQwto4-sk7KCJ5i1aSeYNPpCKVay5mKdgv_agzQNabCio36DYVE2UWfJvvLHRgP0rFEdVV0aGKWL-8/s320/IMG_7315.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632978814440333938" /><br /><br />Mom telling it on the mountain:<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30tAEQS7-02GHqP8P7wUstrKOvQ4NaIg4itUyuAwHwArypd76IwHyIZ6C9xZckVzscJZ7Eo2cnu1rR6tUe0flnuKV8gPQmazkbicmDUslSJQdZlQBvguQ8UhyphenhyphensCZXljO-zQW1KEv2sROK/s320/IMG_7300.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632981817845550722" /></div><div><br /></div><div>That Ashley can take a picture:</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ECpal-e1k7zMS9BQ7-69xFlH9fG0-bDBBWu-aZ0Lsf86YUvAtcEAsWX_xOvqP3YPttonlgBRWADqIZ0UnPrXjaaAcHqcIBtlfnFV50_U0rAcBlOnbGLM7TvwXKUd3jSVWFVcwV3JYYbr/s320/IMG_7324.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632986002672613778" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Aunt Joy the next day:</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8TNSCH2Nmf2-j1qxx4WBFMpYkHwZKMx5jOay49KLB0MJweuHwFTvzU1vEoeYDulbH0Bil2mWPPz2EVjIgQgkBgYH3Ipotg8iJj07ktJB1yr5zJ3lE5A2yAC1Fw2cs-hNz-mzQVBR6eZD/s1600/DSC_3577.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8TNSCH2Nmf2-j1qxx4WBFMpYkHwZKMx5jOay49KLB0MJweuHwFTvzU1vEoeYDulbH0Bil2mWPPz2EVjIgQgkBgYH3Ipotg8iJj07ktJB1yr5zJ3lE5A2yAC1Fw2cs-hNz-mzQVBR6eZD/s320/DSC_3577.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632978804685349490" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8TNSCH2Nmf2-j1qxx4WBFMpYkHwZKMx5jOay49KLB0MJweuHwFTvzU1vEoeYDulbH0Bil2mWPPz2EVjIgQgkBgYH3Ipotg8iJj07ktJB1yr5zJ3lE5A2yAC1Fw2cs-hNz-mzQVBR6eZD/s1600/DSC_3577.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>Our little man-child:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0w3tWeA4d7qOQxspTyAbncGDABGQbIEp_aqzsELH78Mi3ylY_gWaKWMwpIWYcForKQ1Wb0980ft_QKChnj0lW5ixIG8MhVU69trXnY-jKkSgzapKqDzRja5sRtzZlE4o_zr65cEVQ9eR/s1600/DSC_3581.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0w3tWeA4d7qOQxspTyAbncGDABGQbIEp_aqzsELH78Mi3ylY_gWaKWMwpIWYcForKQ1Wb0980ft_QKChnj0lW5ixIG8MhVU69trXnY-jKkSgzapKqDzRja5sRtzZlE4o_zr65cEVQ9eR/s320/DSC_3581.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632978797093927346" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0w3tWeA4d7qOQxspTyAbncGDABGQbIEp_aqzsELH78Mi3ylY_gWaKWMwpIWYcForKQ1Wb0980ft_QKChnj0lW5ixIG8MhVU69trXnY-jKkSgzapKqDzRja5sRtzZlE4o_zr65cEVQ9eR/s1600/DSC_3581.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>It was a truly wonderful, beautiful birth and I was so happy and honored to share it with Gavin, Mom, and Ashley. Thank you guys so much for your love and for being part of an unforgettable night. And Wesley, I love you so so so much and am so happy to have you here with us on dry land.<br /><br /></div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126397452890961163.post-14185031939116546382011-07-05T05:43:00.001-07:002011-07-05T06:07:51.362-07:00AmericanaWell, still pregnant with our boy Wes. But my wise husband suggested that instead of sitting around housebound staring at my belly we throw a BBQ for some of our awesome friends. It was quite simply a perfect 4th. You go, America!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8_ltTtItAX1rqDj_X3UUMmEwoCysM9K_kEfdGNNdt_AYzRCMNlo2C4OlalQywPAsY07fYKK-JvwG7KzagdiDMM__4nk4IAwI1SWCRHoQE6XD8acdZXkKa7caVMxzggNHCserPRY4L1HO/s1600/DSC_3527.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8_ltTtItAX1rqDj_X3UUMmEwoCysM9K_kEfdGNNdt_AYzRCMNlo2C4OlalQywPAsY07fYKK-JvwG7KzagdiDMM__4nk4IAwI1SWCRHoQE6XD8acdZXkKa7caVMxzggNHCserPRY4L1HO/s320/DSC_3527.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625849184628915186" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMl0Sc0Rx8V7XyRXY0a3w8kTJRfoQ7AuzLfplseqSAdY8BXieKWmUmACQAavSKqhN8FHFO3PtPljvonx-MCSYdiGalHnCQhEbn1VXNPZTC3278xluIcROIYpNW-HBdQJrPBzf2ssu3nWv3/s1600/DSC_3519.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMl0Sc0Rx8V7XyRXY0a3w8kTJRfoQ7AuzLfplseqSAdY8BXieKWmUmACQAavSKqhN8FHFO3PtPljvonx-MCSYdiGalHnCQhEbn1VXNPZTC3278xluIcROIYpNW-HBdQJrPBzf2ssu3nWv3/s320/DSC_3519.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625849172223982050" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRphXhGPnRjmIXHGQBVEXhEhXyxas-jazr2tjU2xd3o5ItoqYPZKk5X_H30aoWfDeQkZ3uRc7FVnERJoWHrnZLhQmAbOeJItxdC-0fySABBd_afUIolAlREiF8F6-5D8B3Qa-d6uZXtjuk/s1600/DSC_3518.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRphXhGPnRjmIXHGQBVEXhEhXyxas-jazr2tjU2xd3o5ItoqYPZKk5X_H30aoWfDeQkZ3uRc7FVnERJoWHrnZLhQmAbOeJItxdC-0fySABBd_afUIolAlREiF8F6-5D8B3Qa-d6uZXtjuk/s320/DSC_3518.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625849158729560322" /></a><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRphXhGPnRjmIXHGQBVEXhEhXyxas-jazr2tjU2xd3o5ItoqYPZKk5X_H30aoWfDeQkZ3uRc7FVnERJoWHrnZLhQmAbOeJItxdC-0fySABBd_afUIolAlREiF8F6-5D8B3Qa-d6uZXtjuk/s1600/DSC_3518.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVzeQzGktA66HaCMQOxidsda8zAc1nrSHwG5gMQ31XNkp44F1Ig8r5ZIyAXoGzGQCZFjFEcxFe7MJ2G8pkeiuCvubdDvO8azbcDCdfqT2ieBIHpZEFndFnJ8Sx0Yk4bYYjFbSm_Eh3Gk-/s320/DSC_3502.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625849150224627010" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6TD0DhM2lnBBxTLQg9qjpC8Pn2oUfuTsF6SiYSkko41AcAM5NuiE_4lNNBNZKdYZxoFsLrhtovZq9UH84abnxyFy8SqZ043XD3hoUzAW4j0HREa2t67mrIKrtg3n0cb4Kpaz7U06hIpXr/s320/DSC_3533.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625849186505961058" /></div><div>The man in the above pic is a vegetarian, except on the off times when his girlfriend gets grass-fed family raised beef from her family's farm. And then all bets are off....</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSUKcP67oWU2QjCpMsCS8Nbj0knX6b1Jlvtw5e5zRvocvHCB4E0DggsfJadzow_vyJT5ehOOaJcDd_llK9dpFaj97ZdHwJcyY_Kf5Uj6wGJcBNYZWpRfet6PtsM_SwybqjZPUkmuwuYwRK/s320/DSC_3545.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625849512025467394" /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRphXhGPnRjmIXHGQBVEXhEhXyxas-jazr2tjU2xd3o5ItoqYPZKk5X_H30aoWfDeQkZ3uRc7FVnERJoWHrnZLhQmAbOeJItxdC-0fySABBd_afUIolAlREiF8F6-5D8B3Qa-d6uZXtjuk/s1600/DSC_3518.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ys_OavNbwV-uTL6w4dlYJm9u5HtN8k99nrf9i5IqKRz_tDJ4gbbMDHk2ziyvi1fYcyQkEyaRfE9V9SnOriQEsco-8NZQTkXScUMNsrvLB-3iGV6wTFvvYGxGd2pcA9Qhd_yWk9o9hFJM/s320/DSC_3540.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625853367974526130" /></div><div>And to cap it all off, some benevolent soul lit fireworks practically in our backyard!<br /><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>The Fitzlosopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02253066475212113954noreply@blogger.com0