piano room update {and some Christmas stuff}

Hello!  I have a couple things to show you in the piano room! 

Some of you poked me and reminded me that I've been absent a while.  I have no excuse.  At least not as good an excuse as my friend Amy at Buffalo Roam.  She's been absent because she wrote A BOOK!  I haven't read it yet, but I downloaded it immediately and plan on curling up with Mr. Kindle, a box of ho-hos, and a jug of wine sometime very soon. 

And maybe some Cool Ranch Doritos, too.

Now...where were we?  Oh yeah.  Stuff!

Need I remind you what the piano room looked like when we moved in?  Yes, I think I do:

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master bath update {pottery-barn-inspired medicine cabinets}

We've lived here pert' near a year and I'm already moving my stuff into the master bath!  Amazing!

The delay is totally my fault.  We could have slapped mirrors up over the sinks, but I have the visual acuity of a mole, which means my face has to be right up to the mirror in order to see.  And my back isn't as limber as it was when I was 12.  I find it an inconvenience to bend way over to see my face just to apply makeup in an attempt to remove hide 10 years of my life.  In short, I need a mirror that will at least meet me partway.  Thus, medicine cabinets.

And I wanted "us" to learn how to make things out of wood. 

I really really liked this Pottery Barn medicine cabinet:

source

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you're so stupid, rose!! {a painful chair makeover}

I hope you all survived Halloween.  I managed to claw my way out from the onslaught of 11 trick-or-treaters.  

I was going to give this post a sweet title about my chair, Rosie.  But Rosie turned out to be a bit of a poophead.  Actually, it wasn't her fault but I was left with the same poopheadedness feeling.

Let's begin.

When Phil's mom passed away, we ended up with a few million of her things.  One was a dining table and chairs set.  I didn't know what to do with it, so I decided to take it to Goodwill.  My sister bitch-slapped me and said to give it to her instead.  Okeydokey.  So it went to be a foster child (children?) at her house.  She needed the extra chairs for family holiday gatherings and I needed stuff to not be in my basement.

Years later, she decided she didn't want it in her basement anymore, so it went to live in servitude with Emma in her first apartment.

Then Emma moved into an efficiency and guess what?  Dining Set came full circle.  Who says you can't go home again?

Naturally, I don't have pictures of the whole set because I'm only playing with one chair this entire month today.  Maybe someday I'll make them all over (shoot me), but for now, I just want one cute little chair to sit in front of my Gramma's sewing machine.

Here's how she started out:

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owl post ... {and thanks!}

This isn't about Harry Potter's Owlery...that would involve too much owl poop.

Have you ever become so completely obsessed with something that it takes over your life?

You are an owlbsession....you're my owlbsession....

Might as well face it you're addicted to owls...

I'm so owlxcited...and I just can't hide it....

Owlkay, enough of that.

When I was buying fabric for my curtainry, I came across some of the cutest owl fabric on the planet.  I had no idea what I was going to do with it, but I knew I'd find something fun, so I threw in a yard with my order.

Then I had an owlpiphany.

Remember this lamp?  Me neither.  It was a long time ago. 

Here was the first makeover.  I'm an excellent stager.

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desk makeover

My daughter moved into a sweet little efficiency apartment which means I am the lucky recipient of all her stuff that doesn't fit in it.

It's a good thing she's tiny.

That's okay though.  My parents are still storing some of my crap too.  Namely, the pool table we got for free from Philly's sister.

That, and all those sweet antiques I'm going to steal when they're senile enough not to notice they're gone.  I already scored this trunk and sewing cabinet.  But those don't count since I didn't acquire them by stealth.

This desk set (I use the term "set" loosely...I'm pretty sure they're a blended family) was one of the treasures to come home to roost.

That means Mama uses it however she wants.

Like to support her laptop.  And her generous ass.

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i made some curtains, yo

I really don't sew.  I can't read a pattern.  But I know how to thread a machine, turn it on, and put my foot on the pedal.  And I can sew a fairly straight line.  I think I've told you all this before, but I tend to repeat myself.

I tend to repeat myself.

Oh, and I actually love to make quilts of my own design. 

I also know how to hand-wind a bobbin because the bobbin winders on both my cheap Chinese machines have now failed miserably and catastrophically.  Let's just say Singer isn't what it used to be.  In fact, Singer, you suck.  I don't do anything crazy with my machines.  I don't sew a bunch of bling onto my hooker clothes and I don't use it to stitch up my cat when she gets in a fight with the neighborhood whistlepig.

She won't hold still for that.

And now I can't even wind a bobbin on either piece of crap.


But who am I kidding?  I love to hand-wind bobbins.  It's right up there with having a colonoscopy.

Help.  I'm talking and I can't shut up.

Where was I?  Oh yeah....curtains.

Thank goodness I like very simple curtainry.  Drapery.  Whatevery.

I made matching curtains for my family room and dining room windows.

Here's the before of the dining area...casing is up here:

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50 freakin' questions

The lovely and talented Marianne over at We Band of Mothers threatened to make me babysit for a week if I didn't answer these questions.  Since I recently became an empty-nester and no longer have the slightest clue how to care for small people (not that I ever really did), I figured it was in her best interest I comply.

1. What are you wearing?

Pervert.

But, if you must know, look HERE.  I'm donning that, and a few nipple hairs.

2. Ever been in love?

But Mama, I LOOOOOOVE him!  Of course.

3. Ever have a terrible break-up?

Married uber-young.  Divorced before most intelligent life forms have even considered getting married.  What do you think?

4. How tall are you?

Five feet, eight inches. 

Wait.

Five feet, seven-and-a-half inches.  I don't know.  It changes every time I go to the doctor.

5. How much do you weigh?

127 pounds.  On my wedding day.  Both of them.

Currently?  That same exact weight.  From the boobs up.

6. Any tattoos?

No.  After earning my stretch marks, I've had an aversion to anything else permanently etched into my skin.  But, by God, I earned those stretch marks.

7. Any piercings?

Ears, multiple times, but I only wear one set now.  Occasionally, I re-poke out the old holes just to feel young and sassy.  (I am totally stealing from Marianne on this one....we're twinsies!)

8. OTP (One true pair, favorite fictional couple?)

Princess Leia and Han Solo.  Shit.  Wait.  That was fiction?

9. Favorite Show?

Again, Marianne stole my answer.  Breaking Bad.  My husband looks like Heisenberg.  It's cool as hell.  We even bought him "the hat."

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rock me ama-daisy

I was visiting one of my favorite people (favorite because she gives me free plants and stuff--and she's just an all-around sweetie), and I see this fabulous mission-style rocking chair in her garage.

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land, ho!

Ah...the power of a comma...

Philly and I celebrated our 15th adversity day last month.  Perhaps you recall last year when I posted about our 14th adversity HERE.

We went on an island vacation.  Mackinac Island, to be exact.  Now, before we go any further, I feel compelled to educate us.  Even though it's spelled "Mackinac," it's pronounced "Mackinaw."  It can be spelled either way, but it's always pronounced "awwwww."  HERE is an explanation.  Learn it; remember it.

There will be a quiz later.

Ever since seeing Somewhere In Time, I've wanted to visit Mackinac Island.

Do you love that movie too?

source

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that is one big-ass clock

THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID

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stool samples

These bar stools somehow found their way into my kitchen.

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mulligan {nightstand do-over}

Greetings!

This was one of the first things I ever painted.

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andi gets famous

There was a big to-do in the 'hood this weekend.

Dead Raccoon.

In The Lake.

NOT THE RACCOON IN THE LAKE...THIS ONE IS MUCH LESS BLOATED A WHOLE LOT CUTER

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treasures and guilty pleasures

So, I spent my kids' inheritance the other day.

Sorry kids.

I was having trouble stuffing roadside treasures in the trunk of my car, so Philly bought me a Jeep.  It's not like a JEEP Jeep...I won't be off-roading or driving through the desert and calling it a horse with no name or anything.

This is a Princess Jeep.  I can start my Jeep from my cell phone while sitting on the throne.  Or before I leave work.  Or while sitting at the bar.  Or on the throne at the bar.  It doesn't discriminate.

I know...I'm sofa king spoiled.

But, more importantly, I can stuff all kinds of treasures in the back of it.  It makes Philly so happy when I bring home other people's crap.

On the first day of owning my new guilty pleasure, we went shopping at Casa de 'Rents again.  Remember when I got my trunk?  Yeah, it's still sitting in the garage.  I haven't finished started scrubbing it down yet.

Anyhooser, I scored my first hatchback treasure. 

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he likes it! hey mikey! {sofa table makeover}

Hey!  Where've I been?

Well, I've been playing World Cup Soccer.
I've been walking on the moon.
I've been learning how to do DIY colon repair.
I've been making pizza.

Okay, that, I have been doing.  I think the pizza gods have defeated me.  I'm obsessed with Chicago-style pizza and I've made this twice and screwed it up thrice.

Only I can do that.

Do you ever have one of those CalgonTakeMeAway Months?  I didn't even realize I needed one until I stepped away from the computer and ignored it almost completely for a month.  I've been a bad blog friend though.  I haven't been visiting you guys very much either.  Boo.

I will be remedying that. 

But first, a brownie.  Because the pizza didn't make my pajama pants tight enough.

Anyway, I have a makeover to share with you.  All I have is a crap before picture, which makes no sense, because I've had this sofa table in my possession for 15 years.

Phil bought it one day when I was twirling on the monkey bars on the playground at parochial school.

Creepy.

He fights with me tooth and nail whenever I want to paint anything.  He's like Mikey.  He hates everything {painted} (until he tries it).

This table has been on my radar pretty much from day one.  Its time has come.  (No apostrophe in its.  Your punctuation lesson for the day.)  It's means "it is."

And guess what?

HE LIKES IT!!!!  HEY PHILLY!!

Here's the before.  I've snarled at this piece of furniture every day for 15 years.

Pay no attention to the lack of baseboard and the overabundance of dust.

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meat loaf, mickey mouse, and mustangs

I've always been a bit of a car girl.  I blame my Dad for that.  He taught me how to drive in a 1971 red MGB convertible.

Not ours, but mostly what it looked like:

not my dad's actual car

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finally got me some trim

...out in the garage no less.

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me, myself, and chair

Me: Philly's out of town for a couple days.  Should we get ourselves into trouble like we always do?

Myself:  Ohhh....YES!  What sounds good?

Me: You want to reupholster that chair, don't you?

Chair (in the distance):  Oh, crap.

Myself: Yes, but I'm afraid.

Me: Me too.  We like the chair, right?  Just not the old-lady floral fabric (that YOU picked out, if I recall)?

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great! now i have guilt!

It's a beautiful Saturday.  

I'll keep it short.

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yes sir, that's my toilet...no sir, i didn't soil it

Okay, so I lie.

But the last of the toilets has finally set and (ahem) properly broken in.

Remember when I had to pee in the basement?

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o canadel!

This is the story of a table and a light fixture, and a table (and a light fixture).

This is our trusty old table that graced our former kitchen for nearly 15 years.  Phil bought it new in 1992, so it's been around a good 22 years.  It's a Tell City set.  (Another American furniture business that's unfortunately no longer around.)  It still looks like new, even after 22 years of child abuse.

Wait.  That didn't come out right.

Here it is in our old house:

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make. this. cake. {the sloppy chef series}

So, today is my birthday.



I'm giving you a few moments to let that sink in so you can remember to wish me happy birthday in the comments section below.

I wouldn't want you to forget.

Did I mention today is my birthday?

I checked back a year ago on my blog and it turns out my birthday was on the same day last year, too.  I made a cake for myself that day as well.

Anyway, I made this cake to take to work for "food day."  Yes, we bring in food for our own food day.  People think it's nuts that we have to bring in our own food-day food.  (I actually like to make stuff so it's okay.)

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craigslist dresser makeover {a diabolical plan goes awry}

Remember this little mirror makeover?  If I were you, I'd be too lazy to click the link, so here's a quick before-and-after:

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you'd like waquine, he doesn't like beets

Willie: You can't vote, ALF, you're not a citizen.

ALF: I'll apply for a green card.

Willie: That's only if you want a job.

ALF: Pass.
.
.
.

ALF: I know...I'll marry Lynn, become a citizen, vote, then drop her of like a hot potato.

Willie: ALF...

ALF: Sure it will be hard on her first. She'll cry, drink a little too much. Join with a bongo player named Waquine.

Willie: ALF.

ALF: You'd like Waquine, he doesn't like beets.

Willie: Neither you nor Waquine may marry my daughter and you may not vote.

ALF: Fine. I have no voice in government, Waquine will get deported, and they'll make him eat beets.

Willie: How many cups of coffee have you had?

ALF: Forty. Why?

source

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clean eating and poop

I made an earth-shattering announcement last week that I was "going clean" for a week.  I told my friend Anya I'd been eating clean, and she says, "I eat clean."  I think she meant she scrubs her armpits before she eats because she was giggling when she said it.

Since I don't have anything else to talk about at the moment, I thought I'd give you the results (and talk about poop).  

First of all, I'll share with you that I have an IBD: Ulcerative Colitis.  I don't talk about it because it's really not a huge issue for me.  But it does affect my poop.

I was actually feeling pretty normal before a week ago.

Eating clean has turned me into Miss Loosey Goosey, if you get my drift.  Not that I was Miss Baseball Bat before.

Did I draw too sharp a mental image?  I've done my job then.

My week is up, and I've decided to move forward with my clean eating for as long as I can.  I'm hoping my system will adjust accordingly.

Basically, I ate nothing processed.  No boxed cereal for breakfast, no sugar, no white flour (almost no flour actually), no store-bought bread, muffins, no chocolate-wax donuts from the vending machine, no soda, no wine....no wine....no wine....whine....

I could go on forever.

What did I eat?  Fish, chicken, pork, veggies, fruits, green smoothies, whole grains (quinoa, barley, etc.), dried beans (yes I cooked them), ho-made peanut butter (thanks Daniela!)....You get the idea.  Pretty much anything that started as one, whole, unprocessed ingredient.  Some of what I ate was organic, but not everything.

I'd never tried quinoa before, and I found I really like it.  In fact, I found the weirdest combination that I now crave.  I made a (sort of) parfait for breakfast containing quinoa, greek yogurt, assorted fruits, a drizzle of agave, peanut butter, and granola.  I mixed the whole mess together and it was divine.

I don't have a picture of it.  But I could try and draw another mental image if you'd like.  It wasn't very pretty after I mixed it all up.  Oh, never mind.

So, after a week of giving up the garbage I usually stuff into my face, I have loose poop, and I've lost 8 pounds.

Before you get too excited, keep in mind that at least 5 of those pounds were nothing more than water bloat.  And I must say, I no longer feel like a bloated toad.

source

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i'd buy that for a dollar

We never shop at Best Buy.  Unless, of course, we buy a ginormous, super-freaky-hi-def TV that leaves Philly drooling and me preferring to sit in our cold basement to watch our old projection TV.

I'm not a fan of the new technology.

I don't like everything looking like a soap opera.  Unless it's a soap opera.

Anyway, because of this huge new TV, we got a coupon for $130 of free stuff at Best Buy.  So we wandered around wondering what in the world we could spend our $130 on.  We wanted nothing at Best Buy.

My first thought:  Playstation.

Phil's response:  Keep looking.

My response:  Butthole.

Phil's response:  Keep looking.

My response:  Butthole.

I see a pattern forming.

I finally stumbled upon a full-size Cuisinart food processor.  All I currently had was a mini food chopper.  I told Philly I'd really like a full-size one.

"How much is it?" he asked.

$129.99.

Shut the front door.

The only thing in the whole store I can find a use for, and it's the exact amount we have to spend.

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along came a spider and sat on her tea

Bloggers are just great people, aren't they?  I know this because I am, in fact, a blogger.

We're humble, too.  Well, some of us are.

It's actually happened to me a couple of times now...all I do is shamelessly hint mention in passing that I covet love or am interested in what another blogger is blogging about, and she sends it to me!

I know lots of you know Sweet-a Rita over at Soul Comfort's Corner.  She does lots of beautiful artsy stuff with all kinds of cool supplies that I would have no clue how to even begin to use.  She also has a beautiful cat named Karma.

I know some of you question my love for cats after reading about my own damn cat.  But I really DO like cats.  Especially other people's cats.  Because they don't live here and I don't have to feed them.  But if they bite me (which some do) then I pretty much don't like them.  And can you really blame me?

No, I don't think you can.

I also love not having to take other people's cats to the vet.

source

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master bath {pseudo} reveal

Do you remember our master bath in the old house?  It was a nice enough bathroom, but it was very small.   And nothing says "time to move" quite like your husband peeing less than 2 feet from where you're trying to brush your teeth.

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benvenuto!

This is how cool Phil is.  Five minutes before he leaves work, I find this little chickadee listed on CraigsList.  It was kinda on his way home.

Here's what I e-mailed him:

Will you pick this up for me on the way home?

I’m not joking.  It’s perfect for the foyer.

Of course he picked it up.  And it fits my little foyer quite nicely.  Please ignore the fact we still don't have trim.  It's coming.

 

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remember the doors?

No, not the "People Are Strange" Doors.

These doors.

We're finally getting around to hanging the doors.  Thankfully I'd only stained 2 of the 11 doors, because after bringing them in the house and seeing them with my floors,  they look like Carrie-on-prom-night red.

source

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i can't believe it's not butter

Philly and I spent most of Saturday running around shopping.  This is not a normal pastime for us.

On a whim, Phil says, "Hey...let's run into the Lazyboy store!  I know you want to look for a recliner for me."

Me:  Okay.

We walk in and I immediately make a bee-line for the--you know--recliner section.

Phil: No no...we don't want one of those frumpy-looking, poofy, floofy, ugly, traditional, yet comfy rocker-recliners that will make me look like an old girly-man.  We want to find something stylish--like a club-style chair that doesn't look like a recliner, but is.

Me:  Oh.  Okay.

We walk and walk and walk and Phil is becoming exceedingly disappointed.  And then he spots it.  A gorgeous black leather recliner with nailhead trim.  It's perfect!

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the tile of a bathroom floor

If you read the title of the post aloud, it sounds like an Aussie saying "the tale of a bathroom floor."

Right?  Mel?

Not so much?

Anyway, I have a floor in my guest bathroom!  But thankfully I don't have any guests, because there's still no toilet in there.

But they can always go here in the basement.  It's warm and inviting.

Okay, it has toilet paper and GermEx.  And no walls.

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bored

Do you ever suddenly get tired of the look of your blog?  Me too.  Well, I don't get tired of the look of your blog, just mine.

Does it freak you out when people radically change the look of their blog and suddenly you don't know where you are anymore and you start screaming and bashing your head into the refrigerator and your husband sends you to the state mental facility?

Hopefully I didn't do that to you.

But if I did, I hope you have the internet so you can keep up with my blog.

What do you think?

OH!  I made myself a new button too!  Help yourself.  (Code is on the right.)  :) 

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one in a minion

Don't you just love Despicable Me?  Yeah, I don't get it either.

But my daughter loves it. 

No, she's not two.  She's 22.

Emma spends a lot of time out in the cold because I kicked her out.

Just kidding.

She's off at college and walks everywhere.  Baby needs a hat.  Or two.

Last year I made her this penguin hat.

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mirror mirror on the floor

So, do you remember this mirror?  Of course you don't.  I've never shown it to you before, unless by accident.  It's was a CL special.

I paid extra for the peace sign, heart, and smiley face.

The garbage in the reflection wasn't free, either.

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throwdown

Okay, Janie Junebug.  You threw down and accused me of being too bottled-blonde to play Chopin's Prelude in C minor.

I'll have you know I'm mostly auburn with chunky blonde highlights this week.  Not that you can tell by this video.

For those of you along for the ride who don't know the connection between Barry and Chopin, you can see the video on Janie's page.

By the way, I love both Barry and Chopin.  Brothers from another mother?

It's actually quite scary.  The resemblance.

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having a cup at the bar

That reminds me of the time I sat on my front porch drinking wine, smoking Marlboro Lights, and scream-singing Hair of the Dog.

Don't worry.  I lived in a tiny hick town and that was considered normal.  For me.

I haven't smoked in ages, but I do still drink wine and occasionally scream-sing.  You can't really do one without the other.  I know you were worried that I may have quit the wine.

In case you were wondering what this post is about, it's about my kitchen.  What else?  Well that, and I'm sporting a boil the size of Texas and it's making me really cranky.  No, I won't tell you where.

We finally prettied up the cabinets with cups and bars.

Have you priced cup and bar pulls?  They're a whole lotta dollas.  But I found this site where they're ridiculously affordable and surprisingly sturdy and heavy.

Wanna see?

Too bad.  Okay, here's a refresher of what the cabinets looked like at the very moment I took these pictures of them.

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hey! you! get off of my chair!

My friend Pam gave me 2 of her ditch treasures.  A cute little pair of wooden chairs she was longing to get out of her basement.

Phil was ecstatic.

Originally I thought I'd sand and stain the seats and paint the frames, but upon inspection, Philly realized the "water damage" to one chair was really from cat pee.

Thanks Pam!  :)  I love cat pee.

He discovered this when taking the belt sander to the seat to remove the yuck.  It was evident in the smell.

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the benefits of being an a$$hole

I was an asshole twice last week.  No, no...I can admit it.  You know what Philly got for his birthday?  Convinced to buy me a laptop.  Am I a great wife, or what?

Then I was super-lucky and won a giveaway.  I'm a lucky asshole.

The lovely MOV over at Mothers of Brothers Blog was giving away her book.  I discovered MOV via Marianne at We Band of Mothers, (who I discovered via Kirby at Kirb Appeal) on the same fortuitous day. 

When MOV said she was giving away her book, I "ass"umed she meant Epic Mom, which she co-wrote with Marianne.  I have no idea why I assumed that.  Wait.  Epic Mom shows up at the top of her blog page.  Okay, I'm going with that excuse.  I think she was actually giving away Mom's Had A Rough Day.

But I gushed on about how I love both her and Marianne and can't wait to read more from both of them.

Here's the envelope they arrived in:

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dirt is the new clean

I figured I'd better brave the basement and write a post.  Phil's birthday is on Tuesday and I know he still hasn't ordered me a new laptop yet. So here goes.

Dear Dyson,

My new floor is beautiful, but it's a maintenance rhinoceros.  I realize once we've finished constructing, have grass in the yard instead of La Brea Tar Pits, and stop having mud wrestling matches in the family room, the dirt situation will improve.

Look.  I can draw sand hearts on my floor.  It's just like being on the beach.

No it's not. 

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liar, liar, my pants are a blazing inferno

I've been playing Sudoku instead of blogging because it's cold in the basement where I create my blog sensations.  

Right between the freezer and the furnace.

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