Lately.

- I have entered that irrational, stressed out phase of pregnancy in which I feel overwhelmed by the number of things I need to do at this very second but also like they are impossible to accomplish in any imaginable time frame. This is reflected in the chaotic nature of what follows.

Of course it's all completely doable, I'm just tired and round and fell the other day and hurt my bum (everything's fine, except my balance). In other words, I just need a bath, some liposuction, and a couple days off from every one else that requires anything from me. And a good audiobook, because of course the one I'm listening to is entirely mediocre. Hit me with your recommendations.

- I'm hosting a Christmas ladies night with the church next week. I have one week to bring the Christmas cheer to our house and am really looking forward to it. So far I've pulled our bins out of storage and stuffed our advent calendar. The plan is to get the other crazy house tasks out of the way so I can decorate the tree Saturday night with a big glass of amaretto mug of tea and a Christmas movie on in the background. This is what is keeping me motivated.

I'm stumped on what to serve at my party, though. I've got a recipe for casserole cookies I'm going to try and I think I'll buy some shortbread. Other than that I'm lost. If you were coming to my party (and if you're in the area, you know you're invited) what would you want to eat/drink/be merry about?

- On an unrelated note, my boss is 81 years old and rather old fashioned. He's a very successful man that has had a very impressive career. He's done well for himself, and has a housekeeper to help him and his wife out. He's still very mentally with it, but he's, you know, old. He calls me his secretary (I think all the secretaries died when we entered the new millennium), asks me to photostat things, and doesn't understand how to turn his phone off of vibrate. He also calls his winter walking shoes his rubbers.

My boss is not great at tidying up after himself and we finally got our winter dump of snow Monday night. All week, he's been lamenting about the mess his rubbers make on the floor when he takes them off and puts them back on. All week I have been dying holding in my laughter. Because I am 12.

- I know everyone is anxiously awaiting news on how the baby's room is coming and the answer is: slowly; very freaking slowly. I needed to paint some furniture before I could move on to the actual setting up of the room. I did that this weekend with the giant bucket of white paint we've had kicking around the house for a couple years. I hate it, it's not glossy at all, and scuffs like no one's business, but we already have it so boom. Free. I was on my third and final coat on the bookshelf when I finally bothered to read the label on the offending bucket. It's a primer-sealer combo, clearly leftover from our basement reno. And now my hatred is completely justifiable.

I'd cry and weep at my own ignorance (I've painted our doors, door frames, and entertainment centre with it) except that it's nice to have an excuse to buy something new. I also used the better part of three gallons of that junk, so we got our money's worth. It won't take much to get a quick coat of semi-gloss on the doors next summer so they stop scuffing, and those suckers are well primed so let's pretend it's all good.

When it came to my dresser and bookshelf I knew in advance I'd need to put a couple coats of poly on it because of the horrible scuffing. Boom. No problem. I threw a couple coats on easy peasy Sunday night. It was dark, though, and I was tired so guess what? My poly streaked, it looks like cat pee, and now Karl needs to get in there and give it a gentle sand to get rid of the ugly. (I could do it, but I'm emotionally done with that paint job.) Fortunately, the dresser turned out really well. It was white to begin with and just needed some touch ups. The bookshelf could use another quick coat of white, but I've already poly'd it and it's just going to be storage furniture in baby's closet. So I quit before we ended up in worse shape than we started in.

In short (too late), a couple pieces of free furniture in okay shape that have been in dire need of painting for years, a bucket of wrong leftover "paint," some poly, and a couple hours of painting just saved us a couple hundred dollars. I'll take it. And I only cried once over the cat pee stains. I'm pregnant, though, so if I'm not crying every other day my tear ducts will probably explode.

- Tonight I'm planning on tackling the book explosion that has become our office/guest room. I sold our bookshelf and bought a new one from IKEA. That's the goal. It's also been a couple days since I cried so I'm going to watch Call the Midwife.

And now you know.

Parker's room

There's something in the air this week that is making me want to get ALL OF THE THINGS done. I had a fantasy about scrubbing my baseboards while I was drinking coffee the other day. Even when I was pregnant I was not that person. But now? Clean all the things! Paint all the things! Finish all the projects! Do it do it do it! I even dragged Karl with me to Home Depot today to have a serious talk about re-grouting our kitchen floor. (Fun fact: It's a task so terrifying that the mere thought makes me want to lay down and weep. Funner fact: My desire to get things done drives me to start looking for time in our calendar to do it. Funnest fact: I know funner isn't a word.)

I think the cleaning mania has to do with the fact that it's warmer outside than it is inside today and all of our windows are open to celebrate. Yesterday I went for a walk and nearly froze to death, but today I spent over an hour on the deck reading in a t-shirt and shorts. And I nearly cried I was so happy. It may also have to do with the fact that I go back to work in less than two months and am experiencing some form of late-term nesting. But I'd rather not talk about that.

So, in the spirit of getting things done, I bit the bullet for the millionth time and took some better pictures to go along with some older pictures that actually turned out. So in case you're wondering, I did not raise and lower the crib between pictures. I mean, I guess I technically did, but not today.

Anyway, behold! A mere 10+ months after originally promised, I give you the baby's room!

And welcome.

This picture is actually quite old. The crib is now lower and I've since lined the blinds with my mad glue gunning/discount fabric buying skills (as you can kind of see in the picture above). 

I didn't want to inundate Parker's room with decor before he was born because a) I'm terrible at that kind of thing and b) I figured it would happen naturally. It's his room, after all. He told me, though, that he really likes polka dots. And teal. Instead of stressing myself out with a themed room, I went with the obvious "baby" theme and stopped there. My dad and I each painted something for him, showcasing our Picasso-esque skills, and more or less left it at that.

I just hung pictures in our own room after a year and a half, so Parker should feel pretty honoured having these up before he even moved in (to the house, not my uterus).

Pro parenting tip: Dollar store baskets and weird shaped vases make great storage for baby randoms and soothers. 

We initially started out with one bookshelf and I love how quickly it's grown into two. I love Sandra Boynton books, hate Goodnight, Moon, and Parker's a star at That's not my Tiger. My baby knows where the scratchy nose is. He's basically a baby Einstein.

I got that print from Hello Hue when she was closing up shop and I love it. Parenting is tough, especially in those early months, but it is definitely well with my soul. 

I got the idea for the mobile off of Pinterest as every good mom should. I ended up combining a yarn ball tutorial and Young House Love mobile. I feel like I really earned my mom/blogger/DIY stripes with this one. In reality, it just involved me making a huge mess on the kitchen table in my sweatpants one afternoon.

If you ever decide to make a mobile like this, I would just like you to know that when they say it doesn't take very much paste to make the balls they're lying to you. I would also like you to know that your husband will totally judge you for buying a $15 branch from Winners when you could "just get any stick" from your yard. I recommend not arguing, just repenting. But seriously, it's the most beautiful stick I've ever spent $15 on in my life.

And there you have it! Well worth the wait, right?

First post of 2016. I talk about poop.

A month or so ago I saw something on Pinterest talking about how to potty train your baby. I scoffed at it because it seemed like an absurd waste of time. Who wants to spend their days holding a grunty baby over a toilet? Do you know how often babies do their business? All. the. freaking. time. I figured diapers weren't that bad in exchange for some independence.

Well. Now that Parker's more interested in solid foods (and trying to jam the spoon as far down his throat as possible) I have changed my story. I've decided that the whole "food before one is just for fun" line is a load of b.s. There is nothing fun about what happens to that food. With out next kid, I'm going to breastfeed exclusively until potty training is done. You can say that's weird, but I would so much rather have a two year old hanging off my chest than deal with that diaper. That mom that potty trained her newborn clearly knew her shiz.

On that note, we had a lovely Christmas. Flying with Parker was a bit harder this time because he seems to know when we have to get up early and adheres to the teenager's logic of "Why even bother going to be bed?" I also, foolishly, thought that taking him on a 6:30 a.m. flight would mean he'd sleep through the whole thing because that's his normal sleeping time. Don't make the same mistake I did. It wasn't too bad, especially since airplanes are full of babies at Christmas, but we did have to have a little chat with our screaming, over-tired baby on the second flight of the day. I like to think the passengers around us appreciated our magnificent parenting style of telling Parker that no one on the plane liked him and that he should probably just be quiet. WestJet will be sending us our parents of the year award shortly.

We painted our living room last weekend and it wasn't as hard on our marriage as I anticipated. The hardest part for me was living in a mess. We didn't live in squalor before Parker was born, but our house was never this consistently tidy before. That's what Saturdays were for! Going back to work in a few months will probably kill me. I hope Parker's figured out how to work a vacuum by then.

There's an extreme cold warning for the city tomorrow. Naturally, I made Oreo ice cream today. It's hard to believe it's -30 out when you're at home in your sweatpants all day. Instead of doing the rational thing and hibernating tomorrow, we've decided to abandon Parker with some friends and go to the movies. You just can't beat going to the movies in the middle of the day.

I finished watching Gilmore Girls last week. It was an emotional time and, even though I'd seen bits and pieces of it over the years, I never actually saw most of the last season because it came on at 10 and I got off work at 10:10 back then. Memories. They ended it so well, though, and I may have cried a little. I'm now very, very excited about what they come out with next. All I can say is, I hope Jess has sorted himself out and that I don't think I'll take much parenting advice from Lorelai.

You wouldn't think Fridays would be so magical, staying home all the time, but they really are. In my great attempts to not eat junk throughout the week five p.m. on a Friday really means something, especially with the teething that's been going on around here. I find that ice cream and Kahlua really help take the sting away.

Lately

Pregnancy did a number on me. Mentally, I mean. The nesting in particular. It's cruel, really. You get into hyperdrive with the house cleaning, organizing, folding, sorting, decorating and so forth and all of a sudden BOOM you can't do it anymore. That little creature inside of you motivating you to DO IT ALL is now literally sucking the life out of you (but that's okay, just eat more cookies and it'll regenerate). So you just sit there while he eats, you shovelling back baked goods like they're going out of style (as if), and look around at your once tidy home and remember what it was once like. Sometimes you cry and wonder how you became this person? Not the mom, the freak that enjoys a clean home. Saturdays were for tidying and dangit I liked it that way!

There's nothing like a baby to make you appreciate what things were like before. Not just your house, but your body. Nothing makes you feel like you used to be a swimsuit model quite like having a baby and looking at the aftermath.

That said, there's a new normal around here. And it's being eternally grateful for getting four hours of sleep in a row. A month ago, I was losing my mind excited over an hour of sleep. Look at me now! What whaaaat. I'm so entitled.

Parker has taken a 2-3 hour nap every morning this week. I'm basking in it because I'm sure it'll never last. For instance, I can see him fighting it on the monitor right now which is really unacceptable because, hello, I deserve at least another 90 minutes. What a punk.

As far as the continued nesting goes, I've made myself an extensive list of things I want to get done to keep the increasing mess and chaos at bay, not to mention my sanity in check. As soon as I wrote it I went and reorganized our bedroom which was definitely not on the list. I added it after, though, just so I could check it off. Because that's how you build up your self esteem.

Oh hey, you'll never guess who woke up and mocked me for daring to dream big. Two hours later... I'm back. With coffee. And a half awake baby kicking it in the swing. If I pretend he's asleep, maybe it'll really happen.

So much judgement from such a little person.

I read an article yesterday about how the camera baby monitors can be hacked and someone woke up to a stranger yelling "Wake up, baby!" over their's. Not only is that incredibly creepy, it's just sadistic. Who does that to a sleeping baby? Especially when that sleeping baby's parents are actually getting sleep? I hope they find whoever did it and hide dirty diapers in their hubcaps before arresting them.

Parker's eight weeks old and I'm starting to feel like a human again. Granted, I've been more or less a hermit for the past couple weeks, but it's the to-do list chaining me up, I swear. That and I realized that if he isn't napping well he will if I hold him. And, long story short, somehow we ended up watching three movies on Tuesday. Because I'm a loving mother.

I feel like I'm functional now. I don't have a meltdown at the end of the day if I haven't napped because I'm getting a total of at least six hours of sleep a night now. Two weeks ago four hours was a treat and a half. No wonder I'm feeling so alive!

Last week I was a boss and we walked every day. This week I'm a slob, even though the weather isn't scorching anymore, and only took myself to the gym. The only impressive thing about my first trip back to the gym in four months is that I didn't cry when I put on my workout clothes. There's a garage sale in the neighbourhood today, though, so I'm hoping to take the boss out as long as it doesn't get too hot. Or he doesn't have an amazing nap that simply cannot risk interruption. Okay, I'm a hermit. I change out of my pyjamas every morning, though. That has to count for something.

I got a really horrible entertainment unit off Varage Sale months before Parker was born. I had every intention of refinishing it before he showed up but then I couldn't bend over anymore and figured it could wait. I sanded it last weekend and have been painting it every morning this week, except today because I'm a rebel. I don't know why, but I always think that doing this kind of project will be so easy and quick. Sanding particle board was ridiculously easy but it's taking forever to paint. And someone (me) didn't put the lid on the paint very securely last time it got used so it's a little tacky. And someone (me) didn't think that all the dust in the garage from sanding probably should have been swept up before starting to paint in there. And someone (me) is going to have to learn to be very happy with her less than smooth paint job on her $5 entertainment centre. Aaaand someone (me) is just praying that the horribleness is erased by new backing, white paint, and new hardware. Otherwise that someone (me) will be found crying in the garage later this weekend. So you can pray for me, too. It's just such a tragedy to waste a good nap.

And now I'm going to take my own advice and attempt to roast chickpeas while I still have free will.

Lately.

I made lame bruschetta last night. I gave myself three minutes to do it and didn’t bother toasting the bread. We were 20 minutes late to where we were going. It was still a hit, though, although not enough to not have leftovers. You’ll never guess what I’ll be eating for my bedtime snack tonight.

Every time I come home to dinner in the crockpot I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I made beef dip yesterday and tonight we have leftovers. Today it’s like I’m reliving my victory all over again.

My mom is coming to visit. Her flight gets in late Friday/early Saturday. Every time she comes our house looks different. This time the living room’s been reorganized and has new bookshelves, our office looks like a book bomb exploded, and we’re setting up the furniture in the baby’s room tonight.

For weeks I’ve been saying that I’m going to get the baby clothes washed and sorted but I haven’t pulled the trigger. I have Monday off and to myself while Mom visits family out of town, so that’s my goal. Now that we have a dresser for the clothes to go into I actually have a place to put them.

I’m also tempted to pull out the summer clothes. It’s too cold for shorts, but I wouldn’t mind seeing if I can fit into my old capris with my belly band. I will miss all the room in my drawers when that happens, though.

The beauty of houseguests is that there’s no more procrastinating the housework. We really do need to clean the bathrooms now and make the guest bed. Someone’s going to be sleeping in it tomorrow night. The bed, not the bathrooms. I could buy groceries or something, too, but it’s just my mom. She’ll understand.

This the beginning of a marathon of house guests. Mom’s coming for a week, leaving next Friday night, and Karl’s brother’s family is coming next Thursday until Easter Sunday morning. It’ll be a good test run. Thursday night we’ll have three extra adults, a toddler, and a dog all running around.

I finished painting our glider last week. I might be biased, but I think it’s gorgeous. The cushion isn’t my dream cushion but it’s good enough for now (or possibly ever). And the colour? It’s everything I dreamed it could have been. Painting a glider is no joke with all the little bits and moving pieces, but it was a labour of love and Darth Vader impressions in my respirator mask. Because I’m that person.

I am currently in negotiations for a KitchenAid ice cream maker attachment. I talked the seller down to $75 from $100 so I’m feeling pretty good about myself. And my new ice cream maker attachment. All I can think about is homemade blizzards.

Just add a bigger crockpot and a new food processor to the mix and boom, I’m ready to have this baby. Who needs diapers? Not me, I’ve got at least three kicking around somewhere.

It snowed again this week. Karl had to shovel twice. We got about 15 cm one day. Last year it snowed at the exact same time, although not quite as much. I remember how distraught I was. This year I’m handling it all much better. I thought that winter would be harder this year, being here for the whole long and agonizing thing. Somehow it’s not. I’m ready for it to be done but it’s not as traumatic as before. I must be getting tougher. I must also have more to look forward to. I must also have more windows.

I’m really looking forward to Easter. Karl’s brother’s family came out last year, too, and I gave them all an egg hunt. Our nephew will be 16 months old this time around so I’m not sure how much he’ll enjoy it but I’ve already gotten him a non-edible gift to hunt for. There’s also something fun about watching three adults hunt down plastic eggs like children. Like the adults are children, not like they’re hunting down children.

Company is also a good excuse to do some baking. Because I fear fancy dinner meals I opted for an Easter brunch last year instead of dinner. I’m going to do the same this year and use it as an excuse to make banana bread cinnamon buns. With respect to future Anna I’m trying to lay off the baked goods, but Jesus wasn’t crucified and raised from the dead for me to not celebrate, right? I will not do him that disservice. Since I can’t drink wine like the real biblical folks, cinnamon buns will have to do. And bacon. You know, as a nod to the fact that we don’t need to follow the old food laws anymore. He is risen indeed!

All this talk of food has sent me over the edge. I need to go eat a banana now.

Coming back

My goal to blog once a week this summer kind of fell flat after we got back from California. To be fair, though, a week after I wrote that post we were pretty much back in Regina and summer was promptly over. Except for last weekend, which was glorious, but now it's pushing -1 and I actually dug out my mittens for the drive to work tomorrow. So there's that.

Our trip home was so good and so full. And I had only two surprisingly emotional moments the whole time. And by that I mean there were only two occasions where I nearly lost it.

After a very long day on the way out and missing two ferries due to road accidents and traffic, we got to Victoria an hour after anticipated. I was exhausted, and driving to my mom's house and down the familiar streets I started getting choked up. It's not my neighbourhood anymore. Those streets aren't mine anymore. I'm not going for painfully slow jogs on those hills anymore. Sure, the ugly eggplant coloured house still looks the same and the people at the end of Mom's street are still (how many years later?) painting their siding, but it's not my neighbourhood anymore. Because I live 2000 km away.

And that was a lot to take in.

The other tough moment for me was walking into our church in Victoria. We'd only been going there about eight months before we moved to Regina so it was never the home that the church we grew up in and got married in was. Most of our friends go somewhere else. But when we walked into that church that Sunday morning, 11 hours after getting back from California, it was only about 30 seconds before I was attacked from behind and given a huge hug from one of our good friends. And that made me feel all the feelings.

The drive back to Regina was surreal. We stopped in Swalwell and spent the day with the family, then headed east to Saskatchewan. It felt like a backwards holiday, but as soon as we got into town it was very real. And, yeah, I cried, because Regina isn't home and it feels less like my neighbourhood than the one we used to live in in Victoria. Because at least I can find my way around the old neighbourhood without having to look at Google maps.

But home is where your family is, and Karl is in Regina, and, following that, I think home is where your bed is. And I am in love with my bed. And now that the duvet's on it's kind of like all the good things are all together at once.

The week back was frustrating and crazy. I had vacation brain at work all week and even went so far as to delete meeting minutes I was supposed to send to the whole staff. We also had to paint our entire basement (thus saving us over $800 off of our reno) and that was a whole new level of hair pulling frustration due to a contractor that doesn't communicate as well as we'd hoped. And painting. Because painting always sounds so easy and relaxing but after six hours of it on a Friday night you need to do the dishes to mentally slow down until 1 a.m. Because painting will damage you. So. much. spun. cotton. 

Sunday morning came around, though, and it was glorious. I had breakfast on the deck, then our church had a bbq, and later we invited the neighbours over for a drink on the deck. It was kind of the perfect way to end a hard week.

As we were sitting in church I knew, again, that God brought us to Saskatchewan for a reason. As much as I don't love Regina, I've never really doubted that this is where we're supposed to be right now. We're not thriving like some people would, and I'm so glad we have a house to keep us busy, but we're simple folk and I'm glad that regrets aren't part of this package.

And you know what? In less than 48 hours we're going to be those people with a separate living room and T.V. room. And that just doesn't happen in Victoria for people like us.

I'm looking forward to having you over for a visit in our living room. The pumpkin scones will be just coming out of the oven when you show up.

Turning up the base.

Well then. June has been a crazy month so far. I had every intention of sitting down a week ago (I can't  believe it was only a week ago) and telling you a bit about the most traumatizing part of it. But then I was so traumatized that I couldn't relive it right away and now, here I am, nine days later finally getting around to it.

We got possession of our house 11 days ago and pretty much everything since the week before that has just been packing, moving, cleaning, and painting. And that last bit was the traumatizing bit.

Since moving to Regina, Karl and I noticed a disturbing trend in home decorating. Well, we noticed a few actually. We now live in a city that gets winter for six months out of the year. That's a pretty big contrast to a city that gets about six days of winter a year, like Victoria. Living in subzero temperatures for 50% of their lives here leads people to do some odd things with their houses.

The most disturbing outdoor decorative choice I've found it people's desire to paint their houses weird colours. Robin's egg blue is not a good colour for your house, or even your trim. Actually, it's even worse on your trim when your house is a typical shade of pooh brown. Like our house. But luckily our house's exterior has a working colour scheme of poopy brown and some other neutral. There's at least some cohesion.

Also, Christmas decor. I have never seen Christmas decorations up in May at such a high number of places. The prairies really are more religious.

Another outdoor architectural feature that's common here is brick. Don't get me wrong, I love brick, but not like this. Almost every house here has brick on half of the front. If it's not brick it's a mismatched wood panelling of some sorts. Houses in Regina are like the mullets of the real estate world. Stucco? Brick? Wood? No need to choose when you can have it all at once!

I digress. Our house has some of that brick and wood thing going on but it's tasteful because it's just the chimney. And, aside from being the colour of soft poop, our house is lovely. But I might be a little biased already. I mean, it is my first house.

The big decor choice that many Reginan homes boast, though, is oak baseboards and trim. Whether they're real oak or not isn't the issue. The issue is that the majority of houses are all decked out in this really fab oak style trim. I mean, whoever decided to build a city on a swamp with mix and matched fronts of houses decided to take it to the next level. If you can't go outside in winter for fear of freezing to death, why not bring nature inside with a nice helping of wooden baseboards and trim! They look so nice next to the hardwood floors that most houses have here.

Puke. About the baseboards, not the hardwoods.

Karl and I knew that as soon as we got possession we were going to exorcise that scourge that our beautiful little house had inside of it: wooden baseboards and trim in the living room and hallways.

Thankfully, the previous owners had updated the trim in the bedrooms, kitchen, and bathrooms. The sexy basement doesn't need trim, but that's another story altogether and we'll save it for another time.

I'm not a superstitious person, but maybe getting possession on Friday the 13th and starting the long road to baseboard painting that night was a bad idea. We also painted the kitchen but that was fine.

Karl and I like to say that we know our limits. I know I can't park big vehicles very well and that making pretty pastries isn't really my forte. Karl knows that he can't play Jenga. The two of us know that moving furniture together is best left undone. We also knew, going into our baseboard painting marathon, that neither of us had much experience painting things particularly well so we would go through the extra effort and tape everything. Every. Little. Thing. Except the kitchen ceiling because the tape wouldn't stick.

I don't know if you've ever painted baseboards before but I have some advice for you before you start: don't. One living room, two hallways, and one back door entryway. Combined with the kitchen, it was almost three rolls of painter's tape and 15 1/2 hours of work over a weekend.

We decided to paint our kitchen a similar green to our last kitchen because I am consistent. The majority of the inside of the rest of the house is painted in some sort of warmer neutral that I will henceforth call Regina neutral. That colour is everywhere, including the place we just rented. I picked my battle and my hatred of oak baseboards and trim won out over every other colour woe I have about this place.

The previous owners left a fair amount of paint behind for us, and we didn't end up having to buy any paint for the trim. It was a small victory and one that we almost regretted once we realized the paint can we were using had a leak in it. Thankfully we noticed before we left for the night that first Saturday and the offending can is still sitting in a plastic bag, in a box, in our laundry room. Naturally it hasn't leaked since, but praise the Lord it didn't get all over our hardwoods. I'm pretty sure if you ruin hardwood elves come and pull out all your eyebrows while you're sleeping and it's very hard to explain that at work the next day.

It turns out I'm not a terrible painter. It also turns out that Karl is better at cutting in against the ceiling than I am at using a floor guard and painter's tape. But at least I'm quick.

There was a horrifying moment in the painting process when we realized that (a) we didn't prime when we started on the baseboards and (b) that meant we needed to do three instead of two coats of paint on them. Our window frames even needed four coats. There was great sorrow and wailing. I wore sackcloth and tore my clothes. But then I just got up early Sunday morning and painted from sunrise until sunset for the second day in a row, not stopping to eat, sleep, or even use the bathroom until the job was done.

And when it was done it was good.

Everyone who comes over has to tell us how nice our baseboards look because when they don't I have a little cry in the garage and wonder if it really does get better.

I could barely bend my middle finger after our marathon painting session and I'm thinking that's where I balanced the brush for those 15 1/2 hours. The top of my right foot was also bruised from all that kneeling on the floor. I like to think of it as my typical floor scrubbing injury. Because I get the most hardcore injuries.

I don't regret painting our baseboards, but were I more affluent I would have hired someone to just replace them. I also suddenly understand the appeal of spraying them instead of using a brush. It's something I always thought was a little over the top when I saw bloggers do it, but I so, so get it.

The night we finished painting, we went back to the place we were renting and the amount of wooden baseboards there made me want to cry. The 15 1/2 hours we spent beautifying our own little place would have been kid stuff compared to what would have to be painted there. And then I rejoiced because it was over, looked awesome, and within a week I wouldn't have to climb a million homicidal stairs anymore.

My idea of a good vacation.

A couple weeks ago I was in the middle of losing my mind. I had three migraines in twelve days, my mom had just broken her femur, and I was busier than I could ever dream. I needed a vacation more than I could have anticipated.

Lucky for me, Karl and I had planned a trip to visit his brother Christopher and sister in law Natalie right when we needed it most. I kid you not, God knew we needed that holiday. We weren't even planning on going to see them at all this year, but decided a couple months ago to bite the bullet and risk taking time without pay in order to head out to Alberta for a few days. My mind and sanity are so grateful we did.

Natalie and I are very different people. We get along fabulously, but without an attraction to a couple of red neck brothers our paths would never have crossed. Kansas girls and BC girls just don't normally find their way into each others lives.

Usually when the four of us get together we go bowling, drink beer and margaritas, go to the movies, and play endless board games. We also eat a lot and go for coffee. It's kind of our thing. It's not a Morton sibling and wife hang out without going to Starbucks. Now that I don't work there anymore, those trips have gotten somewhat less economical.

We only hit up the Starbucks once this trip. Since giving up caffeine (5 1/2 months!) I don't do London Fogs anymore so the whole Starbucks experience is less exciting. I just get decaf americanos with a pump of white mocha, in case you're wondering. I don't really buy into the whole pumpkin spice thing, but everyone else does. Karl, Christopher, and Natalie all did, too. This sign might have had something to do with it:

I'm going to be totally honest with you, I have no idea what this is all about.

 I learned something about Natalie that weekend that I hadn't known before. It turns out, she and I have similar cooking/baking strategies. It's called creativity. Don't have any cheddar? Use Gouda  use processed cheese (American cheese, as the American's call it), use Havarti. Use whatever the heck is in the fridge that could pass as cheese. That's my kind of cooking.

Natalie is also pretty easy going with her food measurements. It made me feel empowered. If Natalie can do it, I can do it. And I do do it. Regularly. Except now I feel even better about it because I know I'm not the only Morton woman that is a bit of a free spirit in the kitchen.

That's where the similarities end, though, and Natalie just keeps getting more amazing. Friday was spent pre-making everything for the rest of the weekend. Every. Little. Thing. Within reason. Steaks were not pre-cooked, but everything else was ready to go into the oven whenever we wanted to eat it.

Not only did Natalie exhibit an extraordinary amount of forethought (last time they were here we had pizza), but she also made entirely new recipes. Everything came out of a cooking magazine and was totally new to her.

She even adapted a pinterest idea to make Karl a race car birthday cake.

As you can see, it was quite the hit.

Natalie really brought her A-game in as non-competitive a way as possible. Since she introduced me to the idea of taking charge in the kitchen days in advance (never going to happen, FYI), I thought I'd introduce her to favourite pastime: Spray painting stuff.

Behold! A pair of stools that came with the house:

Cute and country kitchen-ish. But are they living up to their potential?

Natalie having a go. I had to share the spraying, even though I didn't want to.

 I'm not sure if it was the heat or just the kind of paint we got, but the nozzle started to get gunked up shortly after we started painting. It made it hard to keep spraying so we called in reinforcements.

Karl showing us how it's done.

The finished product was something to be proud of. Even though Natalie didn't go for my dark blue of choice, I still think she made a good call on the colour.

Fancy shmancy!

I wasn't planning on wrapping up our whole trip to Swallwell in one post, but since it looks like I pretty much have, I'll share one more favourite moment.

While Karl and Christopher partook in another traditional activity, fixing Samson, Natalie's Jeep, us womenfolk walked their dog Wishbone and met some locals.

Oh, hay.

I'm not as city as I might look. I have been around horses before.

Natalie knows horses, too. She's a country girl.

And, finally, since I'm on such a picture sharing roll, I'll end with a photo. 

Put out your jazz hands for rural Alberta!

Bathroom completion.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, I decided to paint our bathroom. Armed with practically no knowledge or skills I undertook what soon became the worst decision of my summer. I regretted it almost immediately because, let's face it, for a small room a bathroom is a big pain in the backside. Especially when things like this happen:

This "thing" that happened was actually Karl.

This was not Karl.

Neither was this.

Yep, those photos broke my heart. The top two pictures are more indicative of the actual colour of the bathroom. It's nice. For grey, I find it actually quite a warm colour. Go figure.

Once I was done with the bathroom the first time it ended up looking like this:

This photo does no justice to the fact that there was paint on the ceiling and it looked kind of like the same person that attacked my toes in this past post was at it again, only this time on the walls.

I forgot to take an after picture yesterday, and I really want to wrap up the bathroom stage of my life, but it looks an awful lot like if you combine the during with the before. You'll have to stretch your imagination a little, but I believe in you. Our bathroom is a little messy right now, anyway. We had bigger fish to fry this weekend. Besides, how could you not want to look at another picture of our bathroom? It's such an under appreciated room.

Ooh... Look at the pretty bathroom! The colour of the walls really brings out the grey spots on the shower curtain. Totally intentional (not at all). I did, however, think of our shower curtain when I chose the colour. That's normal, right? Everything else is pretty much white so I figured the giant polka dot wall should probably work well with the paint. Totally cohesive.

Yes, folks, I dominated that bathroom. Karl was excellent in his cutting in abilities, and I am in love with our WHITE ceiling. Can I just say, painting a ceiling is like trying to draw an invisible person. You just kind of roll with it and hope it turns out well. I love having a shower and not seeing the dark smudges left by Karl's head on the ceiling (for now) and that the squished spider above the door that wouldn't scrub off is now covered up. Even though it's not a perfect job, it's so much better and I no longer have any painting regrets.

And if I thought before that painting a bathroom was a really cruddy way to spend a Saturday, I have certainly changed my tune. I would much rather paint a bathroom than have a migraine.

Victory over the odds.

I went into the weekend feeling ready and alive to tackle the million projects I had in mind. Between laundry, dishes, hanging shelves, and finishing the paint job on the bathroom I felt like I had enough stuff to keep me busy. After all, hanging shelves in our bedroom was so much more than drilling a couple holes. It was organizing the chaos that was on top of our dressers and putting our lives back in order. Three days were going to provide the perfect combination of productivity and restful long weekend relaxation. I also had 250 pages left in my book that's due back at the library today. It was a challenge I was happy to take.

And yet, somehow, my plans always seem to fall apart.

Friday night Karl and I checked out The Bourne Legacy. It was enjoyable if a little slow at first. I'd done some research on Friday and decided that it seemed like the amount of caffeine in movie theater iced tea was negligible so I bit the bullet and had one. It was delicious. It went so well with 3/4 bag of salty salty popcorn.

It ruined my weekend.

Saturday morning started off nicely. I went for breakfast with the girls and Karl went to work on his Mustang. We were going to rendez-vu back at home around noon for some bathroom dominating action. (One should always talk about painting one's bathroom in trash talking terms.) I was full of energy after a delightful scone and a decaf coffee so I figured I'd be a go getter and pick up the ceiling paint by myself, getting a good head start on the whole painful process before Karl got home.

Well, I got halfway to Home Depot when my vision started feeling just a little off. I aborted my mission once I realized I wasn't hallucinating and that I was, in fact, getting a migraine. Yes, my nemesis was rearing its ugly head to laugh at me and all my wonderful weekend plans. It was saying, "You want to be a productive powerhouse of awesome? Well, you CAN'T!" I was not impressed. I crawled into bed, threw on a Harry Potter audio book and, after taking an Axert to help stop the pain, slept.

Long story short, I slept almost all day Saturday. More time was spent asleep than awake. I ate the only things that make me feel good when I have migraines and intense nausea: pizza, ginger ale and McDonalds. When I was awake I watched an episode of Voyager and then American Pie 2. I was sick, don't judge.

Somehow I slept Saturday night, though, and didn't toss and turn and flail and feel even worse. Sunday I woke up, still feeling the after effects of my brain's heroic (and dastardly) attempt to escape, but feeling more human than hibernating bear. Really, I was mad more than anything that my wonderful productive Saturday was ruined by half a movie theater iced tea. Life is full of painful lessons sometimes and I guess that was one I had to learn. Lesson learned, don't mess with caffeine.

We went to a different church Sunday morning and then out for lunch at one of my favourite breakfast places. I ordered bacon with my waffle. I felt like such an unhealthy rebel. The grease helps the migraine hangover, okay?

After that productivity was a go. As much as productivity can be a go when nausea and head pain still come in waves. Just roll with it, though, and understand that I was about to make up for my abysmally unproductive Saturday by dominating on Sunday. We painted that bathroom, yes we did, and I made my first meal in a wok. Yes I did. I used every single vegetable we had in our fridge and left only one carrot and half an onion behind. It was necessary after all the pizza, chicken nuggets, waffles, and bacon of the last day and a half. And ginger ale. I can't forget all the pop I drank. I guess I should also include the vindictive iced tea and 3/4 bag of movie theater popcorn from Friday night, too. Stop judging me. Popcorn was a choice, but everything else was like medicine to my nauseated soul. Even crackers didn't help settle my stomach.

Like I said, productivity was a go. After wanting to die and kill caffeine and movie theater iced teas everywhere on Saturday I was ready to start living again. I frollicked around the kitchen, attempting to stir fry it up. I tweeted like a crazy person. I laughed like a crazy person Saturday night when we went to McDonalds. There's just something so amusing about a 14 year old working that I will never understand. Call it cabin fever.

So Sunday was the end of our bathroom painting adventures and it was successful enough that I'm going to say that chapter in our lives is closed forever. Monday we hung up the shelves in our bedroom and I spent an hour or two last night trying to make some sense of everything. I took an obscene amount of before/after/during pictures of our dressers. My plan is to finish putting them back together tonight and share my BIG accomplishment tomorrow or Thursday. Right now our kitchen table makes us look like the messiest people in the world. I'm actually in awe of how much stuff was on our dressers. I am also in awe of how difficult it is to throw some things away. I'm trying to be reasonable and get rid of things I haven't used in  a year or two (or more) but it's so hard! I don't know why I used to have an aversion to finishing my face cream or foundation. I think that's another post entirely, though.

Last night I went to bed exhausted but satisfied. I debated the morality of calling in sick today to make up for my sick Saturday (not really but it almost seemed fair) so that I could finish my weekend goals. I figured I did good enough, though, even with a completely wasted day. After all, I painted the bathroom ceiling and did wall touch ups as needed (and, indeed, they really were). I spray painted, with varying degrees of success, wall shelves, brackets, and a picture frame. I did more loads of laundry than I'd care to admit. I slept. A lot more that most teenage boys would, too. I did the dishes. I made the dinner. I cleaned off the dressers (biggest job EVER). I folded some laundry. I read over 200 pages of a book. I went to a new church and didn't die (new situations make me nervous). I went to the movies. I got stuff DONE.

I applaud myself because, on top of everything else that happened, I still enjoyed my weekend and made time to sit on the porch and have dinner with my family. I still made time to do the important things in life like ride my exercise bike and go to Winners.

I took that long weekend by the horns and showed it who was the heavily drugged boss. Yes, yes I did. And better than that? I showed me.

Continuing the spray paint love affair.

I don't understand what goes on inside my head. I swear I remember standing in the bathroom with my camera out and taking photos of the bathroom wall. I swear it happened. Except my phone is telling me that it really didn't. I must have taken all that wall staring energy and used it to check out the cupboard under the stairs. I got photos of that bad boy, but not the bathroom massacre. Go figure. I'm really behind the times.

Yesterday I renewed my love affair with spray paint. Karl and I took the plunge and got some wall shelves from Canadian tire yesterday afternoon. I couldn't wait to get those ugly bad boys home and beautify them. They need decently large wall brackets so I decided that instead of putting plain, boring and kind of ugly white on white on light grey (that last part being our walls) I'd spray those shelves my favourite colour of blue and do the brackets "Ivy Leaf." The colour caught my eye in the spray paint section of the store but I have to say it ended up being a little bit more "puke yellow" than "ivy leaf." I'm still okay with it, but I'm just really glad I decided to do the shelves blue instead of the brackets. I'm fairly experienced in the pukey yellow colour world, considering I had to wear a slightly more green version of it at a wedding once. I rocked it.

One thing I'm learning in my love affair with spray paint is that if it doesn't have a built in primer (which it totally doesn't) I should probably try sanding it first. I'm referring specifically to my wall brackets. It never occurred to me that spray paint might run on smooth metal. Now I know. Tonight I'm going to bust out the sandpaper (if Karl shows me where it is because that's his realm, not mine) and sand those babies into obedience. I don't care if that sentence made any sense.

I also took a round two at some frames I'd sprayed white before that hadn't quite worked. Karl sanded them down to get rid of the drips and weirdness that was happening on them. One of the frames worked relatively well but I think it's going to need yet another coat of paint to beautify it if I don't want to see some wood grain below it. I figure if another coat doesn't do the trick the wood grain isn't too offensive so I'll just deal with it.

The other frame is a mystery to me. I got it from Value Village and for some reason it really doesn't like the spray paint. It goes all crackly and weird looking when I spray it. That happened before but Karl just sanded it all down and you'd think it would stop fighting me. Nope, still crackling. I'm not actually sure what to do with that picture frame. It was less than $3, the exact amount eluding me because it was a while ago, and I'm not sure how much of time it's worth. Will it ever decide to be my friend? Will there ever be a good amount of sanding and repainting to make it subservient to my decorating will? Can I, I don't know, cover it in fabric? Use acrylics? Scratch off the weirdness? So many questions and so few answers.

Now, I'd like to share my big cupboard under the stairs accomplishment in photos. Here's a reminder of what it looked like before:

A person could get lost in there and die.

And here's what it looks like now:

I can now tell you exactly what is in the cupboard and where to find it. Pillows in the "ottoman," sleeping bags in the duffels, car parts in the cardboard box, paper doll collection in the cross-body bag, an empty bass case, some vases, the hobby horse my mom made me, Mr Dog, and a never opened fan (which we're never giving away because we won't always live in a refrigerated cave and in this town when you desperately need a fan they're all sold out already). There is also a radiator hiding in the very back that I didn't even know existed until I cleaned out the space. It's a yucky hospital green. I have no idea where in the house it would ever have been.

That was a big accomplishment and one of the easiest ever. Now, if only our bedroom will turn out to be so simple and surprisingly spider free I'll be happy.

Oh. My relationship with the Twitter (I can't stop calling it that) is going okay so far. My third follower, aside from the two people I actually know on Twitter, was Meg Cabot. Suddenly, it all made sense to me why anyone would join. Meg Cabot. 12 year old me is dying right now. Just DYING. So, you know, if you want to hear more from me and don't believe that I can cut down on my word count check it out.

The woes of a bathroom painter.

I painted our bathroom two weeks ago. I did not enjoy it or the end results. I liked the colour but a lot of touch ups were needed, as well as a new coat of ceiling paint. It was not exactly my idea of an enjoyable Saturday.

It wasn't long afterward that I noticed there was a scratch on the wall where the paint had fully come off. I didn't think much of it, just that it was another touch up I'd eventually have to deal with. This Saturday, the three week mark, was going to be my ceiling painting, touch up doing day. Woohoo. I just really wanted to put the whole bathroom painting debacle behind me and be able to enjoy my bathroom time again.

Last night, as a wonderful birthday present, Karl informed me that the paint on the walls was coming off super easily. He had left several claw marks on the wall to make his point. I'm not sure what he was thinking because surely one small mark would have made his point. Needless to say, he has officially volunteered to help me fix the paint job. He just doesn't know it yet.

I called Rona this morning, ready to rage on them for selling me bad paint. Except, of course, I googled my problem and realized that I had probably put latex paint over oil based paint unknowingly and that Rona couldn't be blamed for that. Rona could have maybe said something to make sure I knew what I was doing, but I guess I did assure the guy who sold us the paint that the bathroom was simply primer colour. Because who paints their walls a no-colour grey on purpose? Turns out, the same people who paint kitchen/dining/living areas pink do, that's who. Who would also paint their bathroom in an oil based paint as, according to the internet, oil based paints are more susceptible to mildew? Honestly, people.

I'm not sure that the bathroom is an oil based paint but, seeing as the bedroom is the same delightful colour, I'm going to do a test on the walls with acetone nail polish to see if it is, in fact, oil based paint or the more preferable latex. I am secretly praying that it's latex because while the Rona lady didn't tell me what having oil based paint meant, I could tell it wasn't going to be good.

What I did learn from Friendly Rona Lady, whose real name I desperately wish I could remember because she was amazing, is that paint actually takes 28 days to cure. When she told me that I was shocked. 28 days? She said that for 28 days we shouldn't put any pictures or fixtures up because the paint might cure to them. Or something. Karl's towel is officially going to have to share my towel bar. Things are about to get a little bit more cozy. Not only that, though, but she said that if we don't have a window or anything it might actually take longer for the paint to cure. Longer than a month! I almost cried.

When I go home tonight I'm going to take my art down, cry a little, and bust out the acetone nail polish (I must have some, all my nail polish is so cheap) to test on the bedroom walls. Then, depending on the results, I might cry a little more. It's okay, though, because Friendly Rona Lady told me to do touch ups in a couple weeks (ARG) when the paint is fully dry. It's okay, my heart only broke a little bit when I heard that. I mean honestly, why should painting an itty bitty room be at all easy or a short process? I'm going to have to take some photos of it so that you can share my pain.

I will now drown my sorrows by eating birthday Runts and hope they don't upset my tummy. I might cry a little, too.

Productivity win.

I keep my promises to myself. Productivity really was the name of the game this weekend.

Friday night I cause my hair a bit of heat damage but ended up with a few flat ironed curls on my head. I also ended up with a few freaky things going on with my hair, too, but they weren't nearly as impressive. Nothing stuck, though, because I didn't have the proper products to get it to. Now I do, though, so the big task is to manage more than one curl per day. My poor, fried hair.

You don't care about my hair, though, let's be honest. You care about my bathroom. Or my potty as I have inexplicably taken to calling it this weekend. "Painting the potty" was my Saturday task and dang, was it a task and a half.

Truthfully, it only took about an hour or so per coat once all the cutting in and taping was done. My mom volunteered to do the cutting in which took her less than an hour, I think, and I did the taping. Taping was actually the longest, most painful part of the process. It alone took about 90 minutes to complete, and I didn't even do that good of a job on it.

I also painted the long procrastinated base boards in our living room. Yes, I win.

Starting the bathroom was a pretty big ordeal. The first thing that happened was a giant paint spill on the bathroom floor as Mom tried to pour it onto a pie plate. Thankfully there was newspaper there otherwise it would have been catastrophic. Every few seconds, though, she'd say things like "oops" and "oh no," making me squirm as I finished taping up the bathtub.

Eventually she had to leave and I was left to my own devices. The very first thing I did was step barefooted into the paint tray. Thankfully I only got a little paint on the floor and none on my foot and it all wiped up nicely. I did use some rather colourful language, I'll admit. It was, to be honest, not a very good start at all.

Using a roller is fun when it comes to painting. It's easy to use and you know you're doing the job right when you use it. Except for when you get too close to the ceiling which, by the way, I now have to paint as well. Hurray! Just kidding, I'd rather poke myself in the eye. I don't know how that works because I'm going to paint the ceiling anyway. I can't handle the dark grey that seems to be... everywhere, and not just on the walls where it was meant to be.

Sunday morning I couldn't stop staring at how rough the paint job was. There were a couple spots that needed the roller again and even more that needed more delicate type touch ups. My grumpiness level was rising. I don't like to leave jobs mostly unfinished and at a "better than nothing" stage. I understand that I'm not a professional painter, but I don't want to leave the bathroom, such a small space where so much time is spent, looking barely passable. Darker walls leave less room for forgiveness against a white ceiling.

My stress level was rising. I didn't want to leave the room looking so horrible and empty, but I didn't want to put everything back in it if there was more painting to do. That's a surefire way to ensure that it takes another two years to finish it (like our living room baseboards). The thing was, we had plans for the afternoon after church and I wasn't actually confident in my abilities to fix what was wrong. I am, after all, a complete amateur and can't paint in a straight line to save my life. Unless maybe with a roller. But you can't use rollers on little things! I was choked, to say the least.

That's when my mom stepped in. I told her I was depressed about our bathroom situation and, much as I liked the colour, was starting to regret ever painting it. Surely it would have been better as a light, primer-type grey than such a clear hack job. Surely! Well, Karl and I went to church and she stayed home with a pinched nerve and did all our bathroom touch ups. There's still one that needs doing although it'll only take about two minutes.

Mom did a great job, though. I'm not sure how much time she spent in there and if she did it all once while we were at church or split it up between then and later in the afternoon when we went out. Either way, she wins the MVP award for bathroom painting. It wasn't until last night right before bed that I realized that she hadn't just painted yesterday because... magically... our toilet was clean. Clean! Our sink was, too. Cleaning the bathroom was pretty high on my priority list but I figured I'd wait until today and do the whole thing. I was happy I almost cried. Almost. It had been a long day but not that long.

Painting a bathroom is certainly not my idea of a good time. I don't think I will every use tape again when dealing with wall meets ceiling type spaces. It made too many uneven yucky spots that I now need to figure out a way to deal it. I'm sure cutting in won't be the easiest thing to do but I'm willing to learn it for the sake of my sanity next time I paint something. I also think Karl might be pretty good at it so maybe I won't surprise paint things anymore and make sure he's there to give me a hand. He did say he'd help me next weekend with the ceiling. Oh, the ceiling. Maybe I'm not looking forward to the weekend.

Productivity.

Productivity. It's the name of the game this weekend. I'm setting goals and I'm going to achieve them. I actually only have two goals for this weekend so I think I'm doing okay. I would like to, generally, get the laundry folded and put away, the dishes dealt with, and start tackling more of our space issues but I'm going to stick with the more substantial things for now.

Tonight, I'm going to learn to curl my hair with a flat iron or cause my hair some serious heat damage in the process. Probably both. I was looking at YouTube videos earlier, and plan on referencing them later, so I actually have more to go on than my memory of my hair cut. I think I was just excited that she made my hair look so darn good and forgot to really pay attention. Tonight's the night!

Tomorrow's task is actually a little bit more intense. A lot more intense. I'm painting the bathroom. Karl has to work, so my mom and I are going to finally cover up the yucky primer grey on the walls with a much nicer shade of grey. It was the only thing I could think of that would actually work with our shower curtain, the colourful art I made, and the gold taps. How do you make gold taps look nice short of painting them a different colour? I don't know but I think a nice grey might help. I'm going as dark as the guy at Rona would let me and the colour we got ended up being my second choice.

Once the bathroom's done I'm going to finish our living room. I kid you not. The larger baseboard (I'm not sure how else to describe the foot of wood the runs around the bottom of the living room for no real apparent reason) is finally going to get what's coming for it. It's going to be a nightmare to do because there's a couch, a lamp, and a very full bookshelf in the way. I know that bookshelves can be emptied, but the room is small enough as it is and I know for a fact that getting things into that room was not as easy as you'd think. It was, in fact, a miracle that our couches made it in there at all. Those suckers are never coming out.

This is all a surprise for Karl. Not my hair, the painting. He knows we have bathroom paint (I bought it last weekend) but he doesn't know that tomorrow's the day. As a world class procrastinator himself he's probably not expecting me to get on this bathroom painting thing so soon. I'm also terrible at not telling him things so he won't expect it without lots of notice from me. I like to share things.

The living room, too, is going to blow his mind. This is something he's been saying he'll do since the board got put on backwards with the painted side facing the wall. Over two years ago. Clearly this is one of those situations where if I want something done I have to do it myself, even though it's not going to be any fun whatsoever.

I wish I could say that doing those two painting tasks would finally make our place look more finished but it's not true. The ceiling in our kitchen/dining area has some green on the ceiling in several spots from where someone (probably me) failed at not hitting it with the side of the roller. We don't have any matching ceiling paint so we've never bothered to fix it. Now there's a task I'm not eager to tackle (and doubtfully ever will).

Sunday is also a big day, though not around the house. We're going to a sports day put on by some of our friends. I expect it to be productive in the sense that it's something fun to do other than housework. That sentence makes me sound like housework is my idea of fun, which it isn't. Especially not dishes.

Now, if only it were five o'clock...

My spray paint love affair.

I don't think I've shared with you how much I love spray paint. Because I do. I really really do. I might adopt a can of it and start caring for it as a child. Or name my first child Spray Paint. Or maybe even Krylon because that sounds cooler.

Seriously, spray paint is so much fun. Taking something that's not living up to its attractive potential and then spraying that bad boy a rich beautiful blue is becoming the highlight of my every day. Pretty soon everything in our house will be blue. I also have white, but I'm just so in love with the shade of blue I got that I can't help myself.

Last night I bought a recipe box to make my Dominion travel worthy. It was not a pretty thing, let me tell you. I got the idea off of a friend who did the same thing with a recipe box from Michaels. Her box is very country kitchen, clearly stating that it is a recipe box, and sporting a rather large chicken on it. She thinks it's kind of sweet but I, however, am not a country kitchen kind of girl. No, I'd like my Dominion to reflect who I am as a person, not who Michaels thinks I should be as a recipe box purchaser.

I'm sure you can imagine where this going.

I took that ugly chicken box home, grabbed my spray paint, took the junk mail out of our mail box and, using it as ground protection, sprayed that sucker a rich beautiful blue. Bye bye, chicken, hello bad ass looking Dominion box. Or maybe just pretty blue box. Either way.

I told Karl that I love spray painting so much he needs to watch out. One day our fridge might be blue. You just never know.

And if you've never spray painted anything before I highly recommend it. How can you not feel powerful with a can of spray paint in your hand, applied liberally over ugly household junk? Trust me, you can't.

Weekend recap.

I don't want to brag, but I had a crazy full weekend. Crazy full in the good way. This whole new finding lots of stuff to do thing is giving me a whole new lease on life. Or something.

Friday night we had some lovely friends over for dinner. I tried to impress them with a nicer meal, steak and a salad that, I have to say, was awesome. It kind of worked. A little attempt at pre-dinner homemade potato chips, a little salad, a little steak, a little destroyed chocolate bean cake, a little icing that would not spread. Presentation may have lacked a little, but I think taste did the trick. It was nice to just be lazy after a full week and play games, too. We also got our baby snuggles on. Because they have one.

By the time we crawled into bed I was a walking zombie. 11 hours of sleep really perked me up the next day, I have to tell you.

Saturday I made a successful attempt at adding summer, work appropriate wear to my wardrobe. I'm tired of cooking in the fluctuating office temperature and wanted t-shirts or tank tops that I wouldn't feel too exposed/casual in. I got two and a dress that I adore for less than $40. It was thriftier shopping, although I wish I'd been able to find tops for less than $10. That was my goal. Well, I did find tops for under $10 but they didn't make the cut. When I got home I laid my new finds on the table and took a picture of all the wonderfully clashing prints. Solids are definitely out this year.

In between the clothes hunting with my mother I started and finished priming and painting my nightstand. It was warm work out on the back deck, let me tell you. It didn't turn out quite as nicely as Karl's did but I'm still happy with the results. I also found out that the nightstands really are identical. I thought mine had a short drawer but it just turned out that it was never in it's track properly. So now I have really functional drawer and a newly prettified nightstand. It's a win-win!

Taking out the nightstand was probably just as much work as painting it. It's nestled right into the corner of the room between the bed and the wall with no extra space on either side. When I moved it I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of live spiders/spider corpses hiding behind and under it, instead only find two years worth of INSANE dust bunnies. They weren't insane in their aggressive, attack with a knife type of insanity, but I think I finally realized why they're called bunnies: those suckers breed. I really need to vacuum/dust the nooks and crannies in our bedroom way more often. Our bedroom is such a space/organizational nightmare that I always try to avoid it, though.

So after a day of real femininity (shopping) and domesticity (furniture beautifying) I really needed to let out my inner redneck so Karl I went to the race track. It was pretty good, although it was more hit and destroy than actual racing. No complaints here. The most amazing part was the boat races. I knew it was a towing race, but I assumed it would involve cars towing boats on trailers and simply racing each other. It most certainly was not. There were no trailers, and I'm not even sure that racing was part of it. Cars dragged boats behind them and tried to destroy each others' boats. Fiber glass was flying everywhere and it was so cool. We also saw a minivan turn into a fireball. All in all, a good night at the races.

Sunday was another full day. From the time we went to church in the morning until after dinner we were out of the house with one small half hour interval for a costume change. We went for lunch, went to Costco, and went to a tea party. We're classy like that.

I feel like we left the weekend with about as much (or as little) class as we entered it with. Sure we had a redneck night at the races, but we had a fancy tea party the next day. I'm going to call this weekend a raving success. Unless you count the mass of dishes leftover from Friday night, but who does? I'll never understand it, but it seems like having even two guests more than doubles the amount of clean up. Go figure.

This week is a weird one because I have to make absolutely no meals. I was going to make quinoa last night with the old veggies in our fridge last night but the tea party ended up providing enough cake and scones to keep us full until this morning. Tonight we're having dinner at some friends', tomorrow is dinner at my dad's, and Wednesday I leave at an as of yet undefined time until sometime Friday. That's a full week of no dinners.  I'd feel overjoyed except all I can think is of the broccoli from last week no doubt turning rank in my Tupperware. I think I'll have to amp up the lunch making and make last night's dinner tonight once we come home for lunches.

Yeah, it's tough work being a domestic fiend.