santa and jingle balls

Everyone has been sharing their Christmas home tours, so I thought I'd share mine as well.  Don't worry, it won't take long.

Here's the extent of my decorating this year.

This is actually a very special Santa that Phil's dad bought when Phil was just a wee lad.

Wee Lad?  I just made it sound like Phil is Irish or Scottish or something.  He's Italian.  I'm a little bit Irish, but mostly Polish.  Shocker. 

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baby, come back!

 Baby got IS back!!

(Sorry Sir Mix-A-Lot, I'm definitely more a "Baby Come Back" girl than a "Baby Got Back" girl.)

Although technically, it's not a Baby Grand.  It's a "Medium" Grand.  For those of you who give a flip.  Trust me.  Size does matter.  Inches do count.  

I remember the girlfriend of a friend,

upon seeing my yummy Yahama said,
"Oh...that's cute."

CUTE?

This is cute:

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laminate, daminate!

Did you notice the sneak peak of my flooring on my earlier post where I showed off my newly-installed upstairs toilet?  No?  Slackers.

If you've been following along a while, you know I've been trying to get as much as possible for the house made in the U.S.A.  Flooring was a big one.

I wanted wood flooring throughout the house, with the exception of tile in the full baths.  (Phil is still sad and pathetic about having no carpet.)  Phil didn't want solid wood...he said it's too thick and raises the floor up too much.  Strike one.  So, engineered flooring it is.  He also wanted click-and-lock so he didn't have to nail or glue.  Strike two.  We both wanted made in the U.S.A.  And a wood that wasn't super-soft.  And in our budget.

Because Baby needs new shoes.

Okay, Baby wants new shoes.  Especially boots.  Baby loves boots.  Boots are my favorite.  It's the only thing about cold weather I really like.  It was so nice of you to bring up the subject of boots!  But please stop getting me off-topic.

That pretty much gave me about 3 to choose from and I didn't like the color or style of any of them.  If you've been following the baseball game, we've just struck out.

I was ready to sell my first-born to come up with some extra cash; then I remembered there aren't many out there in the market for an (almost) 23-year-old dependent.

Those hopes dashed, we bought laminate.  Yep, you heard it here first, folks.  The brand is Quick-Step and it's made in the U.S.A.  The color/style is called Burnished Walnut and it's gorgeous.  

Here's a picture from the manufacturer's website:

source

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that d@mn cat

We interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming of Stuff and Nonsense to bring you a very special episode of That Damn Cat.

I'm sure by now you're familiar with our Schnauzer, Eddie.  Yes, those are underwear he's nuzzling.  They were clean at the time.

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a day late and a turkey short

Here's how we roll.

Thanksgiving ON Thanksgiving?  Never happens with my kids.

This year it was Friday.  Today in fact!

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campin' out (we're in!)

In truth, we've been in for an entire week now.

We spent exactly 10 nights at the 'rents house.  Not that they were counting.  Because they knew that when we left...Eddie left.

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the devastation of a town

My hometown made national news today.  Unfortunately.

I grew up in Washington, Illinois and graduated from Washington High School.  So did Phil.  He graduated WAY before me though.  Obviously.

Half of my immediate family still lives there. 

And what appears to have been an EF4 tornado ripped through Washington today. 

I couldn't reach my parents.  There was little to no cell service.

We were headed to their house and I was finally able to reach my sister.  Thankfully, they were all safe and their homes are intact.

Meanwhile, Phil managed to reach our friend Brent, who has helped us so much in the building of our new home.

He has lost his home.

His dad, who lived a block down, also lost his.

But they are safe.

Brent needed a ride to somewhere--anywhere--but by the time we got there, he had already made his way to his sister's home.

This is what we witnessed.

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casa de 'rents

Who says you can't go home again?

(No really...I had to look it up.)

When we closed on the sale of our old house, the new pad was lacking the following luxuries:

Hot water
A bathroom sink (or any sink)

Now we have both.  So I don't have to wash my hands in the toilet.  Because I do have one of those.  Finally.  In the basement.  Surrounded by stud walls and mountainous piles of bric-a-brac.

My parents were gracious enough to invite us into their rat-infested slum of a cracker-box house.  And by invited, I mean that I said, "Um...Mom...would it, um, be okay if, um, Phil and I and Eddie -- you LOVE Eddie -- and, um, the outdoor cat, stay at your house for hopefullynotmorethanaweekorpossiblytwo...?"

So here's where we were forced to reside for the last week and a half.  What a dump.

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yes, we have no pianos

We have no...pianos...today.

Yay!  My computer is hooked up!  I'm currently sitting in the basement between the chest freezer and the furnace.  Only the best for us.

The week started off as pure hell.  On Saturday, I learned that my very good friend from the first grade was succumbing to the effects of the cancer she's been fighting for the last 7 years.  We lost her Monday morning.

I love you Jeannie, and I will miss you terribly.

She had been to the new house a few times over the last several months and saw some of the progress.  I'm so sad there will be no new memories here.

But Jeannie had the biggest and quickest smile of anyone I've ever known.  And she wouldn't want us to dwell.  Goodbye Sweet Friend!

*********

We closed on the sale of our old house Wednesday.  In true Phil and Andi fashion, we did the headless chicken dance right up until the last minute to get the rest of our valuables out.  And by "valuables," I mean all the leftover crap that you have no idea what to do with.

BUT...Tuesday was an experience.  The guys showed up to move the piano.  Have you ever seen an 800-pound grand piano moved down a flight of eight stairs?

You're about to.

But first, a quick funny.  When I called the place to set up the move, he asked me three different times what kind of door I had at the bottom of the stairs.

And I explained three different times that IT'S A DECK.

OUTSIDE.

THERE IS NO DOOR.

(Additionally, there is no spoon.)

He finally got it.

It really instilled me with boatloads of confidence.

Now I'm going to do a picture dump, because they pretty much tell the story without a whole lot of commentary.

Remember this guy?

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the BM

Today was the Big Move.

What did you think I meant?

Oh.  Shat.

We did smaller moves to the new house the last 2 Saturdays.  Today was the big one.  We moved all the big furniture (except the piano and our mattress) and a bazillion boxes.

What's left, you ask?  All that miscellaneous crap that you have no idea what to do with so you just stare at it as you scratch your ass.

We did have a few moments of note.

The morning started out by opening the damaged box UPS left on my front porch yesterday.  It was supposed to contain my bathroom sink.  Here's what I found.

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the garage floor ~and~ philly shoots his hose

Philly painted his garage.  It's nice and white now!

Sexy legs.  Most seriously.

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fish guts

I know you've all been waiting with "baited" breath for the follow up on the grossest post.

Remember Major Carp?

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andi's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea

You know how my blog is called, "delusions of ingenuity"?  Yeah.  There's a reason for that.

Somehow, I managed to successfully paint my current backsplash, as well as my mom's backsplash.  I got the idea from the geniuses at Sawdust & Embryos.   I wanted the look of tile without the commitment.

Kinda like how I want to look like Tricia Helfer without all the hard work it would take to get there.  And stay there.

Now I'm obsessed with hexagon tile.  For a backsplash, a bathroom floor, the exterior of a new car...you name it.

source

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gennie, i got . . .your number

Because you seem to be enjoying the music videos.

And because the lyrics are strangely appropriate.

But wow...what a creeper.

We lose power frequently in our current house.  Often enough that we felt compelled to install a generator at the new house.  After all, we're moving from a well-established subdivision in town to "the country."  We're bound to lose power even more often out there, right?

Plans were made, Gennie was purchased, then we talked to our new neighbors.

Do you lose power out here very often?

Neighbor #1:  No.

Neighbor #2:  No.

{Blink}

Well, I guess we'll have the world's ugliest, most expensive piece of landscaping art.

Remember when I got my driveway poured?  Of course you do.  It was just my last post and it was full of yummy.  Well, they also poured a pad for Gennie.

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the return of shirtless boy {or . . . andi gets a driveway}

You really didn't think it was going to happen, did you?

Neither did I.

OMG, here he is:

source

Just kidding.  But boy, do I miss Chris Farley...

I've barely had time to nurture my own blog, let alone visit all the other blogs I love to see.  If you haven't heard from me in a while, or if I haven't responded to you, it's not because I don't love you.  It's because I'm currently having a love affair with Benjamin Moore primer.  And he'll barely let me out of his sight.

And if you don't believe me about being busy, the following activities occurred last Thursday.  And I'm just now getting around to crowing about them.

Not a whole lot to say here...so on with the pictures...

Okay, one thing to say.  I took this because this is what central Illinois looks like right now.  Farmers bringing in the crops.  Oh, and the forms for my driveway.

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drywall sheetrock wallboard gypsum

Now...say the title of this post like this:

"Gunter Glieben Glauchen Globen."

It's the SheetRock of Ages.

And it's up.  And taped.  And mudded.  And sanded.

Great.  That means I now have about 20 gallons of primer and paint to apply.

It's been a completely boring week though, and the pictures are pretty much just...well...boring drywall.

And that's a total excuse for my being a complete blogging slacker the past week.

 Here's a ceiling shot in the kitchen.  Like all my holes?

Me too.  Lots of can lights.

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whoa, black cherry {bam-ba-lam}

Are y'all jammin' down now?  Awesome.

If not, let me help.

{Seriously...what is that bass player wearing?!}
 
Okay, put your weed and munchies away and let's get on with things.

Actually, I'm going to play that video one more time because it's so zippy.

I'm not going to dwell on the past, but if you recall, I got stuck with a bunch of crap doors because Menards refused to take them back.  I complained about that here and here.

But I've chosen to take my lemons and turn them into Whiskey Sours.

I wanted to do a really nice tutorial on how to stain new wood doors.  I have to revise the steps a bit because I have MasterCrap doors.

 Before I realized what I was getting into, I purchased some fabulous stain from the local woodworker's shop.

The stain is made in the USA by General Finishes.

It's called Whoa, Black Cherry.

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the grossest. thing. ever.

Have you ever bought those decorative bottles full of oil, vinegar, and assorted pickled foodstuffs to put in your kitchen because they're pretty and then you can pretend you're a gourmet chef?

You know of which I speak.

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there's a stranger in my house {eddie's first post}

Hi.  I'm Eddie.

My Mom's friend Janie Junebug lets her doggie Franklin write blog posts, so Mom decided to let me write one, too.

And it's a really important one! 

First off, here are some pictures of me so we can get better acquainted.

My Mom tells me all the time how cute I am and she's taken no less than 1 million pictures of me.

I don't have any teeth so it cracks her up when my tongue hangs out.

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shut the front door!

You know how they say a dog and his/her owner sometimes look alike?

 

source

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the kitchen {the farewell tour part 6}

This will be the final installment of the farewell tour.  I left the kitchen for last because it's the most important room in the house, right?

I know.  Men would argue the bathroom is more important.

I thought I was so cute.  And so SMART with that wallpaper.

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deciding the siding and biding the sliding with some chiding

WARNING (Danger, Will Robinson):

Picture- and yap-heavy.

We picked out our siding an age ago.  It might have been the Age of Aquarius.

And as we all know, the best-laid plans of mice and men often turn to crap-ola.

Deciding the siding:

I changed my mind from having 50 Shades of Taupe:

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fall monogrammed frame wreath

THIS POST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE LETTER F

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the crap sandwich {delusional rant #3}

About a decade ago, my hubby picked me up for lunch and took me to Applebees.  I remember they had a brand-new sandwich on the menu.  It was a Philly Steak.  (I know...one of my favorite sandwiches is the Philly.  Crazy, right?)

Anyway, the sandwich was disgusting.  The "meat" looked and tasted like pieces of worn-out tires.  It was that bad.  

And the server disappeared.  So I ate my fries, and by the time the server returned, Philly was finished with his lunch, and it was time for me to get back to work.

We told the server how bad the sandwich was, and he offered to get me another one.

Now I ask you...why would I want an identical crap sandwich made from the same crap pieces of tire?

Thank you just the same; we would not like another crap sandwich.

He didn't offer to take anything off the bill...just said, "Oh...sorry."

I later sent an e-mail to Applebees and they were smart enough to do the right thing and sent me a gift card.  

They did what was expected to make it right with their customer.

Enter MENARDS.  Remember this post?  Yeah.  I filled out their "Guest Complaint Form" and explained exactly why their doors we purchased were crap.  I sent pictures of the veneer coming up.  I told them how dissatisfied we were with their product and we'd like to return the doors for a full refund.

We got a boilerplate letter from MENARDS:

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the day i wrestled five live anacondas

Crap.  Okay, they weren't really live.

And maybe they weren't really anacondas.

But there were 5 of them.  Honestly.

Remember the other day when I nearly died?  You know...death by bags of insulation?  I completely forgot to tell you about the other part of the day.

We don't have curbs and gutters in our new 'hood because we're in the "country."

And yet, we can't have chickens or llamas.

And I want llamas.  And chickens.  Cuz I love me some fresh eggs.  Chicken eggs, not llama eggs.

But maybe it's for the best since the anacondas would probably eat the llamas.  And the chickens.

And the eggs.

Anyway, we've decided to live ditch-free so we bought (5) 20-foot sections of black plastic culvert pipe to connect our driveway culvert with that of the next-door neighbor.

And we had to drag them off the shelf and shove them in my dad's trailer.  No mean feat.  I nearly died again.

Natch, I missed my photo op with all 5 anacondas in the back of the trailer.  And I wish I had video of the wrestling match.  It was epic.

But I did take some crap pics on my phone in the near-dark.

You're dying to see, I know...otherwise I'd have to feel foolish for even yapping about this.

Picture 3 more anacondas in here along with these 2.

Notice how they don't really fit in the trailer?  Yeah, that was fun.

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i am glute and bicep woman...hear me vomit

My Dad is a handy guy to have for a dad.  If he's not your Dad, too bad...you can't have him.  He has a Suburban and a ginormous enclosed trailer that we shamelessly borrow whenever we feel like hauling house crap around.

If you recall, we chose to hang the insulation bats in lieu of hiring a "professional."  And Phil decided to staple the hell out of his knee.

Anyway, Philly took Dad's rig to the box store of ill repute to pick up the blow-in insulation for our attic.  (It was on sale with a rebate, and until we hear they won't give us our door money back I guess we can still shop there.)

This is about half the load...I forgot to take a picture when the trailer was full.

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the pot filler, the vessel sink, and the butthead

First, the pot filler.  Or as we like to call it, "the pot sticker."  Because we can never call anything by its real name.

I did a kitchen post a while back and fessed up that I was NOT building the ever-popular white kitchen.

I had tons of compliments on the look I was going for.  And that's why I blog, plain and simple.  The ego stroke.

Here's a refresher on the basic kitchen look I'm going for:

source

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#^%#@*$ wood doors!! {delusional rant #2}

Long post.  Short fuse.  Read on.

For those of you who have been playing along for a while, you know hubby and I are very involved in building a new shack.  A home of our own design.  Now folks...that's pressure.  Sometimes it makes us a little crazy about with each other.

In fact, there have been times that Philly has mentioned in passing that he's afraid I'm going to lace his food with arsenic.

I would never do that.

Because he sometimes shares his food with our Schnauzer (Eddie) and I would never do anything to hurt my dog.

And this isn't Flowers in the Attic.

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living room {the farewell tour part 5}

In the beginning, there was the super-sexy builder-white paint.

And a countrified couch and chair.

The best I could come up with was some Christmas stuff.

I have no recollection of that lamp in the corner.  We're going to say that Philly brought that to the party.

I carried the watermelon.

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holy crappiversary!

I just realized it's my bloggerversary.

Or would that be bloggadversity?

Mr. Sandman is systematically ripping away layers of my eyelids so I'll make it quick.

Happy one year to me.

Now I have a celebration to blame all those chocolate chip cookies on.

I love all of you I've met along the way and thanks so much for finding me interesting enough to stick with me!

Well, except those of you who dumped me.  I don't love you quite so much.  But thank goodness I don't have a high-school mentality.

I'll try and come up with something better for next year.

Good night, and happy blogging!

MWAH!

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she's a brick - - - - house

Mighty mighty, just lettin' it all hang out...

I'm having nightmares about the exterior of our house looking like crap.  Perhaps I'm drinking too much wine.  Or not enough.

Definitely not enough.  

A few posts back I alluded to the fact that the brick is up on the house, but I didn't show you any pictures.

Magali at The Little White House accused me of being a tease.

Yep.  That's me.  I'm a brick tease. 

Here's my bird-shit brick.  You like? 

Here's the info.  Kasten K05 Flint Rock.  Basic every-day mortar.  Here's the site:

COOL BRICK!

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how to cut insulations batts and shove staples in your knee

I'm not an expert.  I don't even play one on TV.  And this isn't a very good tutorial but there is some trauma and hilarity involved.

So if you're even the tiniest bit squeamish, I give you fair warning.

Anyway!  Philly's kind of a genius and he got me all set up to be useful.  I like being useful.  It makes me feel...useful.

We're working on stapling up insulation.  That means I cut and Philly staples.  It also means that I get sweaty and stinky and covered in fiberglass.

I did learn a few things though.

It's MUCH easier to cut insulation with the fluffy side up and the kraft-paper side down.

First, Philly screwed down a piece of OSB right onto our existing subfloor.  That's pretty darn cool.  I wouldn't recommend doing this on your current living room floor.  You might end up having to buy a new floor.  Of course, if you're looking for an excuse to get a new floor, then by all means, proceed.

The pieces needed to be exactly...um...I forget how long exactly, but we measured that, marked it on the board, then lined up the mark with the subfloor seams. 

Like this:

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celebrating adversity

ad·ver·si·ty 

/adˈvərsitē/

Noun 
Difficulties; misfortune.

Synonyms
misfortune - disaster - distress - calamity - hardship

I never really understood why people celebrate their adversities.  It seems like such a strange thing.  But we get dressed up, go out to a fabulous restaurant, drink some wine, and maybe even get a little...uh...amorphous.

Well, Philly and I have officially had 14 adversities as of today. 

It sure feels like way more than that.  Like 15 at least.

Philly was so thrilled to be married.  Again.

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family room {the farewell tour part 4}

Oh, this room.

It was the boy cave.

The dumping ground.

The room I wished never existed.

I don't have any great pictures to share, but here goes.  

I think this was our first Christmas in this house.  We had the whole fam damily over.

See the ugly gray breaker box on the right-hand side?  Remember that.  I will magically make it disappear momentarily.

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please push in my stool {and some visitors}

I have IBD, so yes, that IS a little potty humor for those of you who recognized it as such.

For the rest of us, I got some stools!  My friend Pam (you know...Chair Fairy Pam) saw an ad in the classifieds and immediately investigated for me.  That woman can spend other people's money like nobody's business.

So I got 4 stools for $50.  They didn't exactly fall off the Amish buggy or anything, but they're in like-new condition and have a pretty cool design.  And it was $50 for all four.  Did I mention that?

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some stuff

I'm back!  Did you miss me?  Me too.  I've been meeting myself coming and going and the 2 of us don't fit through the door at the same time very well.

Don't you hate it when you take a bath and forget to bathe?  Me too.

I'm a fart in a skillet.  But I have some miscellaneous stuff to share.  If you're not into miscellaneous stuff, my apologies.

Philly doing his best Vanna showing off our new water heater:

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blueberry banana parfait {the sloppy chef series}

I haven't blogged about food in a while which is is strange, because I eat food every single day.

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g*#d@%%!# andi!!!!

It's so hot here I can practically feel the skin melting off my leg.  Oh wait.  It was melting off, but that was from the burn pile incident.

I hopped out of bed and set off on my morning walk bright and early.  

Actually, I was quite a bit more like Mr. Hilltop.

Nice hopping.

source

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what the hell is LittleMyoo?

On more than one occasion people have asked what "LittleMyoo" means.  When I created my Google ID, I had no idea that LittleMyoo would show up everywhere.  (I was a total blog novice.)

But gee, I guess "identity" means "identity."

When I started force-feeding my blog to my dad (without telling him), he deleted the first several e-mails because he had no idea who or what "LittleMyoo" was.  Or why this freak was sending him e-mails.

My friend Janie Junebug, Grammar Queen Extraordinaire, wrote this hilarious post and publicly addressed my screwed-up blog name.

So let's get to it.  My hubby and I tend to speak a language that no one else understands (or would even want to).  For years, every time we would pass a field with cows, we would both start mooing.

That was the beginning.

Then when my mom, my daughter, and I started our little trio choir at mass, mom prompted us to sing "nyew" instead of "new" (nooh).

Following so far?

Philly and I started adding a "y" sound everywhere on words that rhymed with "new."  Dyew, gyoo, Jyew, nyew, pee-yew (okay, that doesn't count).  You get the picture.

Moo became Myoo.  (I'm sorry if you're falling asleep.)

On occasion, Philly and I have been known to overeat.  A lot.  We pretty much feel like cows at that point.  

Naturally, we'll start mooing.  Only now it's myooing. 

Philly quickly became "Myoo" and I became "Little Myoo."

I even got him this little flashlight cow.  He moos...he doesn't myoo.  But that's okay. 

Here's our cow:

I made a voice recording of Philly lowing "myooooooo" and that's my phone ringtone.  And when he calls me, I answer, "myoo??"  People never quite know what to think of it because we both sound like cows mooing.

But not quite.

Mystery solved.  Now have a myoo day.

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the roof...the roof...the roof is on fire

Not literally.

You don't remember that song?

They throw the F-bomb around on this song, so if you have delicate sensibilities (or simply don't want to sit through a really stupid, albeit catchy 3 1/2 minute video), don't watch it.

It is a pretty dumb song and I confess I don't really get it, but they mention Han Solo and a wookiee.  Not in a very clean way, but I'm a Star Wars freak, so there you have it.

Why are we here again?

Oh yeah!  The roof!

Philly and Brent got some of the shingles up a couple weeks ago.  Remember this shot?

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birds in my belfry, fire, and sawhorses

Philly's been working me like a house elf.

We spent the whole weekend working at the job site.  I'm so exhausted I can't seem to focus and I keep repeating myself.

Philly's been working me like a house elf.

...

But we did have a cute little visitor!  Isn't he sweet?

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the crappers {the farewell tour part 3}

We have three crappers in our house.  

I'm calling them crappers instead of toilets or privies or bathrooms because I want to and because I can.  And because of Thomas Crapper.  Even though he did not invent the toilet.  But according to Wikipedia, he did have something to do with the ballcock.  I'll leave you to research that further.

Anyway, one of the crappers is small and the other two are tiny.  I'm going to start with the basement crapper because it's the same as it ever was.

I have a Diet Coke addiction that I would love to forever get over.  But in the meantime, I love me some Coca-Cola stuff.

I despise Pepsi, BTW.

The (tiny) basement bathroom.  That I've refused to ever re-do.

Because of my addiction.

No before...just as-is:

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button, button, who's got the button...?

source

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don't hate me for NOT having a white kitchen

I spent the previous year glued to HGTV and DIY Network, and more recently, I've been looking at more blogs than should be allowed.
 
If there's one thing I've noticed (besides shabby-chic, distressed, beachy, etc.), it's that white kitchens are very popular. 

I love white kitchens, and I know they're timeless.  In fact, if we were staying in our current home (or had another 12 months to get it ready), I would definitely be painting my cabinetry white.  And putting in new wood flooring.  And new light fixtures.  Okay, I realize there's no good place to stop.

But am I nuts for not wanting a white kitchen in the new pad?

Perhaps.  Look at how beautiful these white kitchens are!

Traditional Kitchen by San Francisco Architects & Designers Taylor Lombardo Architects

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emma's room... {the farewell tour part 2}

Emma was 7 years old when we moved into this house.  She inherited my full-size bed and headboard (which totally rocks and I can't wait to use it again in the new house).  She also inherited the quilt I had on the bed (the quilt has finally gone to GoodWillLand).

And some kitty cat wallpaper border.  Well, that was new.

Here's how her room started out.

I apologize for the pics...I took digital pics of printed photos...how times have changed.

See that super-cute cross-stitch project over the bed??  Yeah...I didn't make that.

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windows and sliders and doors...oh my!

This post has a real slider in it, unlike my sliders and roofies post.

Philly thought I was nuts when I said I wanted either French doors or a slider off the back of our bedroom.  Of course, Philly thinks I'm nuts most of the time.

We decided on a slider because it was more cost-effective (I think), and it would provide more stability than French doors (Philly thinks).

Je suis désolé, mes amis français! 

Here it is before installation (those grids are inside the glass, BTW):

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dumpster diving -- in my own dumpster

I've officially hit rock bottom and I need an intervention.

Unless, of course, y'all can give me some good ideas.

(That's the first time I've ever used "y'all" on the blog.  I'm test-driving it...see how I like it.  No, I'm not from the South, but it just feels happier than saying, "you guys.")

I wasn't going to cover anything relating to the re-shingling of our current home, because there just wasn't much of interest to report.  Philly and our son Anthony tore it down:

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