The One With All the Sevens...

Well, I was tagged. By my daughter, of all people.

She says these are the rules (just so you know I didn't make them up!)

YOU'VE BEEN TAGGED!!

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.

2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog; some random, some weird.

3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.

4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Here we go:

FACT #1. In my younger days, about 30 years ago, I was the Governess (fancy name for babysitter) for the children of a Big Hollywood Celebrity. I stuck it out for 18 months, and to this day, hold the record as the longest-employed -and- the only one who wasn't fired. Ever watched "Super Nanny" on ABC? The Children of Big Hollywood Celebrity were the molds from which all demon spawn ever created were cast. Of all the jobs I have ever had - ever - this is the one I would never do again. :::shudder:::


FACT #2. I can't resist chocolate-covered malted milk balls. (think Whoppers or Brachs, only the real thing) They are my secret shame. I don't even keep them in the house, because I can't stay out of them. If I buy them from the candy counter, I buy a handful at a time.


FACT #3. I don't have a "favorite color" - I truly do like them all. Well, almost all. Puce is an exception. Puce should not be allowed. Puce looks like someone said "Oh! Here! We have all these other colors left over! Dump 'em over here, and we'll call it puke Puce!"

FACT #4. I named my cell phone. It's an HP 6925 IPaq, and I call it the Paq Rat, because it carries all my stuff around for me! I can't live without it. Totally hooked. Worse than a crackberry, because it runs Windows Mobile, and between the touch screen and the QWERTY keyboard, I can pretty much do everything (including create blog posts) with the damn thing.


FACT #5. I am The Queen of the Geeks. I first played around on a Heathkit H8 waaaaaay back in 1978, and have been hooked ever since. I learned Fortran and Cobol when I was in college, and started cutting my teeth on DOS when 8" floppy disks were the norm. I remember how cool it was to have a 16 color monitor, and a 300 bps external modem to dial into the local BBS. To this day I prefer the command line over Windows anything, and I could happily spend an afternoon taking apart computers & laptops to repair them.


FACT #6. One of my greatest pet peeves is people who are rude, in the name of honesty. You can be (and should be) honest, without inflicting unnecessary emotional damage on others. Let's say your friend shows up for an event in a shirt that is just... weird. I'm talking about a shirt so strange and hideous that people are pointing and staring. But your friend seems to be *proud* of the shirt, and somehow immune to the giggles and whispers of others. Then, the moment you dread - the question you know is coming: "Do you like it? Do you like my new shirt?" This moment, Gentle Reader, is what separates the wheat from the chaff, this is where the cream will rise to the top. DO NOT reply "What the *&^% where you thinking?" DO NOT reply "Sure, if you like looking like a circus freak!" DO NOT reply "Uh, No!" with your finger and thumb in the shape of an "L" on your forehead. WHAT YOU CAN SAY is "Wow! It's a really interesting choice for tonight!" or "I can't imagine where you found that shirt!" or even "I wouldn't have dared to wear something like that". But you don't have to be rude to be honest. Ever.


FACT #7. I am terribly, horribly, claustrophobic. But I haven't always been; it wasn't until I had to have an MRI in the old tube-style (in head first, nose to the ceiling) that I got that way. Now it hits me at the strangest times. Elevators are usually OK, but the little "capsules" that you ride in on the Gateway Arch in St. Louis? Thought I was going to DIE. Right there, going up. I was fine until the little door slammed shut. Coming down, by the way - I was fine. Walk-in closets are fine, but storage units with roll-down metal doors (even with the door up) I can't cope with. Seems to be an "escape" thing - as long as I can SEE a way out, and KNOW that I can get out no matter what - I'm fine.

There you have it. Seven weird/strange/random things about me. You get to decide which is which.

It turns out that (almost) everyone I know (personally) has already been tagged by someone. I won't tell you how many blogs I back-tracked through, trying to make sure I didn't re-tag someone accidentally... But, I found three suckers victims friends that I think haven't been hit by this meme yet - so I'm tagging them, and then leaving it open. If you read this, haven't been tagged, wanna play... consider yourself "tagged". Come back and let me know in the comments, and I'll come and read your entry. Promise.

PS: If I didn't tag you , and you are in my blogroll, it's because I believed that either [a] you had already been hit by this one, or [b] you don't do memes. Here's your chance to prove me wrong!

1. Fab Grandma

2. Stu

3. Ericka

4. (your name here)

5. (your name here)

6. (your name here)

7. (your name here)

What are *your* seven facts?

I am falling in love...

...with my house.

Oh, Gentle Reader, it is true. As the rooms really begin to emerge from all of the boxes and the packing paper, I am slowly but surely falling in love with this house.

This afternoon I was entranced by the way the sunlight fell through the living room windows. It lit up the wood floors, skipped up the warm, yellow walls and bounced off the ceiling. It shone through the creamy drapes, and sparkled off and through the glass of the windows. It slid down the shiny white & ebony keys of the piano, and landed on the rug.

I sat for an hour, just watching the sun move across the windows. Just enjoying being in this room that we have created as a family.

I am falling in love.

And that is just the living room...

The One Where We Are Done...

And it feels *so* good.

Things had arrived at a standstill; we reached an impasse where each of three different subcontractors were waiting on something from the other.

These people are (alleged) ADULTS, and they couldn't seem to get it together. It was like dealing with a group of three-year-olds. Actually, that might be unfair to three-year-olds. Because these guys were just acting like *jerks*.

So, I finally got fed up, and called each one in turn, found out what each sub needed from the other. I figured out who had to go first out of the three, scheduled him to do what he could before the other two arrived, and repeated the process with the other two.

Within three days, everything was done.

As in, doneDONEdone.

Yes, Gentle Reader, it is true. All of the contractors, subcontractors, gardeners, landscapers, drywall guys, painters, plumbers, electricians, flooring guys, roofers, gutter-ers, installers, security/alarm company guys, lumber delivery guys, window installers, door installers, concrete finishers, appliance delivery/service/repair guys, and even the "general helpers" (who I always thought should wear some sort of military insignia, and who don't BTW answer to the title of "lieutenant") are gone.

Gone. All gone. The house is (finally) Ours To Do With As We Please.

And the very first thing we did was bring home all of our "stuff" from storage. It's all home again - I have finally started organizing rooms, hanging pictures, rolling out rugs, arranging furniture. It took two days, and two truckloads, but everything is finally here. After nearly a year in storage, it's been fun to see things we forgot we even had; it's a cliche', but every box we unpack has been like Christmas - you don't know what's inside, because the movers had helpfully NOT labeled the boxes.

So now we unpack - every day, a little bit more gets done, and with any amount of luck, by this time next week all of the boxes and packing paper will be gone to the local recycling center, and for the first time in almost exactly a *year*, everything will be put away, in it's place.

:::insert HappyHappy JoyJoy Dance here:::

To be certain, The Wrench and I have a punch list of our own - either little things that we simply couldn't justify *paying* someone to do, or things that we want done in a very certain, specific fashion. There are tiny little projects (like installing the new doorbell button) and medium kind of projects (like installing the new house numbers over the garage door) and then there are things like actually painting that garage door. (because our painter had a death in his family) TW & I try to get something done on the list every day; we don't always succeed, but we try.

It is lovely being Done. Until now, every day there were strangers in our house; every day brought noise, dust, and confusion. There would be scaffolding and tools to navigate around; and while we would try to stay out of their way we wouldn't always be successful. It has been stressful for all of us, but especially so for My Mom; the confusion and stress were compounded by her dementia. Twinks has been a champ through all of this - it hasn't been easy for her, but she has been a real champ, taking the delays, the craziness all in stride. All while getting straight A's in school, AND being perfectly accessorized as well! Best. Kid. Ever.

For the last year, we "camped out" in our own home; we rattled around in rooms with little or no furniture, and even then, each room was in turn emptied completely during the remodel. We learned what we really needed, really wanted in our lives. And we also learned what we didn't need, what really isn't necessary. We will live more simply now - the Salvation Army brought an empty truck, and it left packed half full of furniture, and stuff that we really didn't want or need - but didn't know it until now.

So, this, the biggest project we have ever had in our personal lives is Done. Of course, no house is every really "Done", because there is always something that needs to be maintained. But for this project, we are calling it Done.

And it feels *so* good.