Too Damn Cool For School

Just when I was getting all excited about my remodeled kitchen, I hit a wall.

That's right.  A wall hit me smack in the face.  We had a dinner guest last night and he is about the least picky guy I have ever known.  Nelson used to be my next door neighbor and now he's my bestie!  He is never critical of me or anything I do.  (I love that in a man.)

There are a couple of things queued to be done in the kitchen.  We are waiting for the delivery of my 'POSH" island and for my contractor, Guy, do put in the stove hood and some cabinets around the stove.  No biggie, right

We invited Nelson to dinner last night.  I had home made turkey soup and a salad with a fresh loaf of French bread.  Alex wanted us to eat in the kitchen after Nel helped him move the existing Cost Plus island out into the backyard until we decide what to do with it.

Alex left on a two week trip this morning to the East Coast.  The island is solid wood and weighs about 1 million pounds so I was not about to try and help him move it.  The POSH island is supposed to arrive next week after fabrication in France, Italy or Turkey or somewhere equally POSH. 

Anyhoo, Alex pulled out a "card table" and stuck it in the middle of our now fairly bare kitchen and we had dinner there last night.  It was the ugliest thing I've ever seen.  It still is. Even Nelson looked horrified!

But, I have to have a place to stick things.  I am just resigned to realizing my kitchen is not too cool for school yet.

Working Men

 I admit it.  I am a sucker for a pretty face.

I've never found suit and tie men particularly attractive.  I like a guy who is not afraid to get his hands dirty.  I also love men who work hard at physical labor to support their family.  I find that extremely attractive!

I also am partial to Mexican men.  They are almost without exception good looking and courteous.

I first met Edgar and Omar when they showed up almost an hour late to powerwash my house four weeks ago.  I had been dealing with electricians, interior painters, color consultants, appliance deliveries, and a wide breadth of contractors who either showed up late or not at all.  I was fuming when I went out to talk to the guys and yell at them for being late.

Edgar, the guy in the top photo, just laughed as I raged at his brother, Omar, (middle of bottom photo).  Omar was trying to explain that a piece of equipment had been broken and had to be replaced and that he was sorry.  I ranted for a couple more minutes until Edgar's good humor had me laughing too. 

I asked the painters, "Are you guys Mexican?" and they replied that they were.  I told them I am Mexican too, and they seemed a bit surprised.  To me, this sealed the deal.  From that moment on, these young Mexican men were more family than strangers.

Two more guys, Antonio and Luis, came to join them a couple of days later.  They were both very nice too.  These guys worked their butts off from 8:00 AM to 7:00 PM, scraping and patching this old house to get it ready for painting.  They all wore what looked like Hazmat suits and masks because this is dirty hard and dangerous work.  After the scaffolding went up, the men would perform high wire acts outside the windows of our two story (with full basement) home.  They flew up the side of the house like Spiderman!

Their radios played from 8:00 AM until night time and I listened to Mexican music while the guys sometimes sang along.  I loved that they seemed to work so well together and there was a good deal of laughing as they toiled.

On Fridays and Saturdays, after they had worked for about 11 hours, we brought them a twelve pack of beer.  They sat in the backyard, sometimes with a little television on and watched their beloved soccer while drinking Coronas and talking.  (We later found out they actually enjoyed Belgium beer even more and so we switched it up.)  After the first couple of times, Alex and I joined them for a drink before they packed up for the night.

Initially, I had worried a little that Edgar and Luis (lower photo, far right) might be under age, but then when I questioned them, Edgar is 27 and Luis is 24.  So I wasn't breaking the law after all.

After four weeks, the painting is complete.  We are delighted with the marvelous job these guys did in painting the outside of this 1880 Victorian home.  They were meticulous and professional.  They were funny and charming. 

And yes, they were a treat for my eyes too! 

I Am So Fancy!

Now, in two weeks, I can present to you heart shaped ice cubes from my new fancy refrigerator on top of a new black granite countertop.

By that time, I should have the kitchen paint completed, the new oiled bronze pulls and knobs on the cabinets, and the new sink installed.  For that matter, by that time I should have the painting of the exterior of our house completed too.

The painters had scaffolding put up today.  That was nerve wracking.  The painters have sealed my windows from the outside today.  That was nerve wracking too.

I have about ten Mexican house painters working from about 7:30 AM until 6:30 PM.  The job is two weeks behind schedule and if they could work overnight, I think they would.  (This work needs to be done before the rains start.)  This schedule is nerve wracking too.

My inside the house contractor didn't show up today.  Guy is wonderful, but I don't always understand him on the telephone because of his Chinese accent.  I think he told me he would come tomorrow.  I hope he does because having my kitchen "gone" is nerve wracking too. 

I think I broke my little toe when I stubbed it on painting equipment a couple of days ago.  I don't need to tell you how I feel about this development.

Guy is currently painting the kitchen a lovely shade called "Pale Green Tea" made by a company called Mythic Paints.  They are a "green" company, or as Alex calls it "Obama Paint".  I just hope the greenie paint covers as well as the poison paint.

This "Pale Green Tea" is not green paint.  Well, it's actually more yellow than green, but so is "Weak Green Tea" but that wouldn't have the same ring to it, would it?  A girlfriend (interior designer) had recommended that I paint the kitchen "Chai Latte", and I loved the name, but alas, did not love the slightly orangey color.  Now she's upset because I didn't take her advice.  Oh well. 

I find that all the home improvements are giving me anxiety issues.  I hate chaos with a passion.  To calm down, I think I'll go pour some tequila over my heart shaped ice cubes.

Cheers!

The Beautiful People Toilet

You may already know, I'm having some remodeling done.  We have a new floor, new paint, a new sink and a new toilet in one of our bathrooms.

We bought a toilet from Home Depot and on the way home, I told Alex I wanted to drop by the Jack London Kitchen and Bath showroom just to get some ideas.

When we walked in, there were about 15 toilets right near the entry, all of them rather upscale looking.  There was a sign that said "All Display Toilets $100".  Well, goodness me!

We had just paid about $200 at Home Depot for a toilet.  This was a much better deal.  Alex wanted a rather squared off looking toilet and I agreed that it was nice.  It turns out this is actually a $700 toilet.

I never imagined such an expensive toilet even existed.  I mean really!  Isn't a toilet just a toilet?  Yeah, this was "stylish", but I had never even considered a "stylish" toilet.  Go figure.

So after owning the Home Depot toilet for about a half hour, Alex returned it to the store.  The sales clerk seemed surprised that he was returning a toilet after a half hour.  He said she looked at him suspiciously.  (I think he's paranoid.)

Since I don't spend a lot of time thinking about toilets (at least until now), it never occurred to me that this toilet's dimensions might not be the same as our previous toilet which was sadly somewhat broken.  After Guy, my contractor, installed the toilet, he called me in and told me that it was too close to the wall.  Apparently, the toilet was larger than the one we were discarding.

Since the hole in the floor for the toilet was there already, there really wasn't much that could be done.  I went over and sat on the toilet and said, "Well, it's fine for me!"  Guy agreed, but added, "Not a place for big people though," and he was right.

When Alex arrived home, I pointed out the problem to him and in his usual optimistic way he said, "Well, we'll just tell everyone this toilet is only for the beautiful people!"

Cheating On Guy

Guy is our contractor.  He's been our contractor for about 12 years.  I adore him.

He's a perfectionist.  He never cuts corners.  He's ethical and fair with his prices.

Guy has rebuilt a porch for us.  Guy has built out a pantry for us.  He is dependable and takes pride in his work.

Alas, my cheating ways have put a crack in this relationship.

Guy is so good that he has become very busy.  Unfortunately for us, he now has to put us off because of his busy schedule.  I really don't like being pushed back after other clients.  It makes me nervous to have projects lined up and no end really in sight for some of them.

We need a dedicated power line for our new refrigerator and a new outlet put in.  I cannot wait any longer, so I called an electrician who is going to do the work for us.  I tried to time the appointment with the electrician so it would be after Guy had left for the day after working on our bath remodel.

As luck would have it, the electrician came early, and Guy was leaving late.  The look Guy had on his face when he saw another contractor made me feel like a cheating slut.  Guy looked so betrayed and  I felt such remorse and shame.  I felt worse than if my husband had walked in to find me in bed with another man.  That is how bad I felt.

I tried to explain to Guy that it was only an electrical outlet, but that didn't take away the sting.  He was so hurt.  I felt like a total sleazy slut.

Then to show how truly rotten I am, later that afternoon, I hired another painter to come in and paint the bathroom that Guy had remodeled.  (I'm lying to Guy and telling him that Alex did the painting.)  I feel bad about this lie too, because I very seldom tell a lie.

You know, unless I really have to.

Amazing Grace Used To Be My Middle Name

This is a photo of my new Summit refrigerator.  It's pretty sleek.  I like it and I'm very glad it's now gracing my kitchen.

I had some trepidation over this purchase as I did not receive the refrigerator until 25 days after I had ordered and paid for it. 

I made numerous attempts to find out where it was, had it shipped, etc., but was told over and over again, "It's gonna ship tomorrow."  Three times I tried to cancel the order in frustration.  The seller ignored my cancellation request and told me, "It's gonna ship tomorrow."

I think having nerve damage in my hand has caused me to have less patience than I used to have.  I was seriously angry over this delay, but then a lot of things have been delayed a bit recently.

I ordered a gorgeous kitchen island from Williams Sonoma.  I got an email yesterday saying the island had been delayed and would not ship until the week of December 2nd.  I was expecting it in mid-October.

My contractor told us last week that he couldn't start work on our projects until October.  We are putting in new granite counter-tops in the kitchen and having it repainted.  I've chosen a lovely paint color called "Chai Latte" for the walls, and "Princess Ivory" for the trim and cabinets.  I'm sick of the avocado walls.  I'm trying to figure out how to get a copper back-splash but I'm not really well versed on what that entails.  Baby steps.

Fortunately, we did get hardwood floors put in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago, but so far, that's the only thing that has happened on time.

We are scheduled to have the exterior of our house painted on October 1st.  (The painting contractor has already told us, that's going to be "put out a bit" because of over-scheduling on his part.)  Uh huh.  Well, what else can go wrong? 

Meanwhile, hand is still giving me fits.  I do think the physical therapy thing will help, but I'm beginning to worry that I'll never go back to "normal".  The pain is really strange and it's getting really boring.  I have sharp pains that make me squeal when I move my fingers, sudden itching that feels like my hand is stuck in some poison oak, and hot throbbing.  All that sounds a bit sexy I know, but it's really not.

Maybe I'll start taking those morphine milkshakes after all. 

The Good, The Bad, And The Damn It!

It all began on July 25th.  I was doing some gardening and tripped over a dog toy which sent me crashing face first into concrete.

As I thought to myself "Self, you've really done it this time", I realized that my left hand was turned in a really weird and painful way!  Shoot!  (Yeah, that's not the word I used.)  I got to my feet and stumbled into the house and looked in the mirror.  Shoot!  (Again, that's not the word I used!)  My nose was bloody and shoved to the side, my mouth was bleeding from where my front teeth had cut into my lip, and my eyes were rapidly turning black.  Oh shoot!  (Right!)

I called my doting husband and asked him to come home and take me to the ER.  I stuck ice packs on my face and hand and spent the time hoping for the best.

The hospital asked me if I was a victim of domestic violence, and I assured them that I was merely a victim of clumsiness and stupidity.  My face would heal, I was assured, but my hand was fractured.  Shoot!  (Damnation!)

Being a vain bitch, the face sort of bothered me.  It did look like I had been busted in the mouth and nose by an abusive lover.  (Most of my lovers would have hesitated to hit me because I am actually a good shot.)

After 5 weeks in a cast, I was actually beginning to feel more pain, not less, in my hand.  I visited the doctor yesterday who told me that while my bones had healed, I now had nerve damage in my hand that was causing the swelling and pain.  Oh shoot!  I'm set up with a physical therapist on Friday so I'm counting on that helping.  My hand looks sort of like a monster movie, all swollen and shiny and collapsed in certain areas.  The doctor told me he could recommend me to a pain clinic, but I really don't want to go around sticking morphine patches on myself for the rest of my life so I'll wait a while for that.

Now, what really pisses me off is that I got a call from American Express this morning asking me if I had made a $300 purchase at a supermarket in New York within the last hour.  I assured the agent that I had not.  Apparently, my credit card had been "cloned" and used today.  Fortunately, we may have caught it before any real damage was done.  Shit!  That's good news!  (Yeah, I mean "Shoot"!)