Kitchen update

I will not mention the snow. I will not mention the snow. I will not mention the snow.

Blizzard conditions? In Maryland? I'm having PA/OH flashbacks.

And not the good ones.

Let's talk renovation!

The flooring finally arrived and was installed. This is reclaimed oak barn wood from Elmwood Reclaimed Timber. They have a great product. Their communication is a bit laissez-faire, but if you're laid back it shouldn't be a problem. Just look at the gorgeousness that is my living room! The Little Brewers have been scanning the floor, looking for their favorite planks. We've discovered one that has some initials carved in it.

My Craftsman style columns have been installed. I looooove the columns.

Here's a view looking down the entryway toward the front door. Will I be replacing the front door in the future? Yes I will. Note the lack of ceiling light. I spent a lot of time searching for the perfect light to complement the columns.

Actually, I had found the perfect light a year ago but couldn't convince Mr. Brewguy to spend the money.

Did you see the hint of cabinets? Patience, patience.

Perhaps some good karma came home to roost because the light I had been lusting over for a year was available at reduced cost.
Is this not the most beautiful light ever? This is work by James Mattson Coppercraft.

Here is the light making my entryway all fancy-like.

More photos later!

Snowdiculus

Named for the Roman Emporer Snowdiculum (23BC-23BC), the Snowdiculus is a weather event so outrageous it calls for extreme hilarity.

Before the recent snow event. Notice the snow still around from the last snowstorm.

We are approaching Snowdiculous.

We got 27" of snow Friday-Saturday and lost power for 14 hours. Let me tell you, cold and tired makes me cranky. We are expecting another 10"-20" tomorrow-Wednesday. Perhaps not such a big deal in Buffalo, but not so good for Maryland (number of plows=3).

During the event, about 5:30pm.

Saturday morning.

I have shoveled our driveway and that of three neighbors. Ow. The good part is that all the neighbors are now friendly and the shoveling goes much faster with five people.

The blue tape is 28".

My parents called today from Fort Lauderdale to see how things were going. I told them to stay in Florida and not attempt to approach the Mid Atlantic.

They did not argue.

Around this time of year I typically write a New Year's Resolutions post. This year, instead of writing about what I resolve to do, I decided to do it.

My resolution for 2010: less stuff.

Living in the family room during the kitchen renovation (more later!) has made me realize I have a lot of stuff. It's nice stuff, but there's a lot of it.

But it was not just living in the family room that motivated this mini-epiphany. It was my new favorite TV show.- Hoarders. These are people with serious stuff problems. Fortunately I don't have a problem with cats or overflowing toilets, but I have a way more stuff than I can possibly organize.

So I attacked 1) the TV area and 2) the Stash of Doom. The TV area wasn't so hard (once I accepted the fact that I didn't need to save all those episodes of X-Files I'd taped back in the '90s). I Freecycled three bags of videotapes and a bunch of cassettes.

Neat! Organized! Happy!

The Stash of Doom was harder. I love my stash. I had squirreled away nearly every knitting and crochet tool imaginable in that room, along with enough yarn to supply three or four of me. It was so cluttered I used it to hide Christmas presents. Who would be able to see them?

Bertha gazes disapprovingly at the clutter.

The problem was that I could no longer find anything. There was just too much yarn. *gasp* Did I really say that?

Freecycle to the rescue. I put out the call and found four worthy knitters who could take my mismatched balls of acrylic blend. I also freecycled the fun fur and fizz. I think I'm past that now.

Bertha is happy.


Best of all, I can see all my pretty yarn.

The weeks are flying by here at Chez Casa de Brewgal.

My birthday came and went, and I was visited by the cake fairy.

I LOVE the cake fairy!

The knee walls were cut in the living room. Greg the carpenter made beautiful caps and is supposedly making me my tapered columns in his shop.

The drywall is up.

And we had a bit of snow.

I've given up on Christmas knitting this year. With the packing and the renovating, there was not enough time. The teachers will be getting dark chocolate truffles.

The renovation contines apace.

Here is the view from our foyer, looking toward the living room. Knee walls will be cut here, opening up the space.


Almost there...

Knee walls! Eventually there will be Arts and Crafts style tapered columns on the knee walls. You can see all the way from the living room down into the family room.

You can also see paint test #1. We had the most amazing foyer in our Gettysburg house. It was a square room right off the entryway with two tall windows on one side. The light during the day was just incredible. We painted it a similar color to the test shown above. The room just glowed. Did I save notes on the paint color from Gettysburg? No, of course not. I've been trying to recreate that color ever since.




Because the flooring has been delayed (apparently due to the installation of new milling equipment at the manufacturer), we won't have time to put up a tree. I couldn't stand the thought of no decorations whatsoever, so I made a Christmas corner over the fireplace mantle. I think it fits the bill and it makes me happy to look at it.

I intended this to be a long, detailed post describing the reasons I haven't updated my blog in weeks. I have boiled this down to one word:


FACEBOOK

Facebook is a time-sucker. My updates? Facebook. Knitting photos? Facebook.


Did I mention we refinanced the house and now have enough money to renovate the kitchen? Of course not! I put that on FACEBOOK.

So I am here to apologize to my loyal readers (Hi Mom!) and post some recent photos of the kitchen in progress.

Behold: the disintegrating cabinetry.

This is the primary reason I wanted to fix the kitchen. I fully expected to come home one day and find the cabinets on the floor in pieces.

Funky corner.

It lights up! Bask in its 1970's amber glory!


It didn't take long to rip it out. Not that I personally had anything to do with that.


Now we are in the family room, which serves as dining room, kitchen and living area.

Poptarts and coffee, breakfast of champions.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Thus unfolds the comedy of errors plaguing my recent trip to New York.

Brewgal realizes she has spent too long drinking coffee and checking her email and now only has 30 minutes to pack before leaving to catch the train.

Brewgal makes the train only to remember she forgot 1) hairbrush, 2) camera and 3) cash. Brewgal vows to prepare earlier for future trips.

Brewgal arrives at Penn Station. She takes nearest stairway and discovers that it goes not to the main level of Penn Station but to the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) level. Brewgal cannot figure out how to get to main level but spots an ATM. While attempting to withdraw cash, Brewgal discovers that she has forgotten her PIN number. Cash is not withdrawn at this location.

Brewgal does eventually find her way to 7th Ave. Line for cabs is horrendously long, so she decides to walk. How far can it be?

Brewgal realizes she has forgotten how far it is to the W New York (49th and Lexington) from Penn Station (32nd and 7th). She makes the mistake of cutting across on 45th street, which is filled with patrons awaiting entrance to theatre matinees. Brewgal is forced to drag her suitcase along in the street and prays that she is not struck by a car/truck/bus/taxi.

Brewgal survives 45th street, only to be stopped at 5th Avenue by a parade of unknown origin. Apparently it is Pulaski Day. The only Pulaski Brewgal knows is the chief medical officer on the Enterprise.

Brewgal finally makes it to her hotel. Lexington Ave is closed for a street fair, at which she obtains chicken satay and a Pashima. Life is good.

I've decided I just can't have too many of these on hand. Yet another woman in my office is expecting a baby in the spring.

Thursday was Octoberfest day in the cafeteria. The offerings included bratwurst with sauerkraut, brisket with horseradish sauce, brussels sprouts with bacon, and curried potatoes with jalapenos. Correct me if I’m wrong, but jalapenos are not native to Germany. Perhaps this was the Nouvelle Cuisine version of Octoberfest. They should have named the dish Nuevo Potato. And where was the spicy mustard? Brats without mustard just don’t cut it for me.

Get it? Mustard? Cut? I crack myself up.

Harris Park, near Milton-Freewater Oregon.



Never have I visited a park with SO MANY WARNING SIGNS. It's as if the park was visited by a team of FTC Disclaimer Ninjas.

Ok, this one is probably useful.

Even the water is dangerous.

Freak Out

We had out driveway resurfaced on saturday. It smells really bad, but looks great. As a result, we've had to park the cars on the street while it "cured." This makes me a little nervous, because I really like my car and I don't want it to get smashed or broken into.

The caution tape came off the driveway today, so I had planned to move the car into the driveway later in the day.

Fast forward to later.

I look outside, and no car.

No friggin' car.

I wrack my brain- what happened to my car? Did it get towed? Did I inadvertently park too close to the fire hydrant across the street? I didn't think there was a rule about that, but you never know. Horror of horrors, did someone *steal* it?

I call Brewguy in a panic. I get that stupid, "your call cannot be completed as dialed," message.

I dig out my cellphone and try again. No answer at Brewguy's office. I call his cell.

"Hello?"
"Hi. The car's gone."
"What?"
"The car's gone. It's not there."
"What do you mean, it's not there?"
"It is not on the street. It's not there!" Now my voice is getting high and squeaky and I am totally panicking.
"It's not on the street? Did you look in the carport?"

This is akin to asking, "is it plugged in?"

My car is in the carport. Brewguy had helpfully moved it this morning because he was afraid it would get damaged on the street. He had apparently told me this as he was leaving at a time when I was on a teleconference for work. I guess I didn't hear him.

Whew. That was fun.

Say what?

Why I am going deaf.


Next year I will bring earplugs.

We now rejoin Lincoln Street Knitting already in progress.

I've been busy.

Three is a magic number

As regular readers know (or have figured out), I grew up during the '70's. I spent my Saturday mornings in front of the TV watching Super Friends, Isis, Scooby Doo and all sorts of other cartoons.

Isis was my favorite. She dressed like an Egyptian version of Wonder Woman. I loved Wonder Woman too. I desperately wanted a tiara and bracelets that could repel bullets.

I was also taking piano lessons at the time. They were scheduled right in the middle of Isis. Let me tell you, there is nothing worse than being called out of the most exciting part of the TV show to have to take a piano lesson because if you missed it, you'd have to wait and entire season for them to repeat it and having your little brother tell you what happened was never the same because he always left out the really important stuff like those thoughtful, meaningful looks Isis would get when she found out something really deep about her past, or the amulet, etc.

Thank goodness for the invention of the DVR.

In between all this was Schoolhouse Rock. What a brilliant move, hiding education amongst the Saturday morning cartoons. Schoolhouse Rock taught me the preamble to the U.S. Constitution, how a bill becomes a law, and that three is a magic number.




Where was I? Oh yes. Let's review.

1. Dishwasher fails (replaced with new one. Pretty!).


2. Brewguy's car is smushed (construction foreman backed his truck into Brewguy's car. $2,200).


3. I contracted an urinary tract infection (pain in the girly parts. Ow!).

They say that bad things come in sets of three. Why only bad stuff? Why don't GOOD things come in sets of three? Is it because we attach more weight to bad, distinctive events and as a result they are more memorable than good events?

There's a psychology theory for this but I'm too lazy to look it up right now.

Let's give it a try. Three good things... Long term good things like having a job, a healthy family, and a nice house don't count. Well, they COUNT, just not for the purposes of this exercise.

Thinking...

1. I found some great vintage jewelry at the thrift store on Friday.
2. Ciprofloxacin is still effective against UTI.
3. IKEA has free breakfast today!

One step forward, two steps back

Mr. Brewguy is a handy fellow. Our front storm door needed to be replaced. The handle mechanism had become so contrary that it was impossible to open the door without two hands and a strong kick. Bad for fire safety. So off it came.

Brewguy painting the door jamb, inter alia.

And the shiny new door, installed!


Brewguy was then briefly possessed by the spirit of the Beverly Hillbillies.

It appears the new front door has made the dishwasher mad. It is no longer performing its primary function; that is, it is not washing the dishes. I can hear it now. It sounds like a wheezy merry-go-round. Brewguy has been doing some tests (running the diswasher, opening mid-cycle to look for water) and has determined that there is little to no water getting through. So the dishes are not being "cleaned" so much as babysat.

So here is the status of our kitchen:

Dishwasher: dead

Stove: one burner not working. Brewguy had to rewire the burners so that the front burner works using the control for the back burner, so to turn on the front burner you have to use the knob for the back burner. What fun.

Cabinets: sagging.

The dilemma is I really, really would like to redo the whole kitchen at once rather than replacing appliances piecemeal. New cabinets. Recycled wood flooring. Patch and paint the wall where the china cabinet of death used to hang.

But the cost of doing this is out of our range. The money just isn't there. I'm doing my best to get a promotion to the next GS level, but that is a long, hard process that involves rewriting the position description for my job. There are no raises coming the way of Mr. Brewguy, either. We hope he has a job in 6 months, much less more money. So I am stuck with a kitchen in which the appliances are dying, one by one, and cabinets that are losing the battle with entropy.

I will instead count my blessings.

And knit like I know how to make a gauge swatch.

Change is good?

The climate is changing and I have nothing to wear!

I’m so confused.

Winter.

Spring.


Winter again.


I suppose that is the definition of climate change. It changes. A lot.

I’ve just returned from a quick trip to New York City, where I gave a presentation and participated in a panel discussion. This particular conference is always held at the Marriott Marquis on Times Square. It is a very nice hotel. I have found that I take photos of the same features every single time.

The elevators.

The view from my room.

The Peruvian flute players on Times Square.

This time I tried to branch out a bit.

I had a few free hours the afternoon I arrived so I got out of the hotel with the plan of walking around the city. I made it two blocks before I started to lose the feeling in my hands. Damn, it was cold! With cold wind! Ow!

I found the New York Times.

I discovered 8th Avenue is much easier to walk than 7th Avenue.

I learned that Dean & DeLuca has uneven service and should invest more in training its employees. They were good around lunchtime but laughably poor after 4pm. To wit:

The scene: one server helping create a salad for a patron. Someone who appears to be the manager, supervising two other servers, who are guarding the cash registers. A cleaner is sweeping the rug runner Brewgal is standing on. Brewgal moves off the rug at his urging. He sweeps very, very slowly. Finally the manager type shoos him off, where he takes up residence behind the counter.

Brewgal [after waiting for 5 minutes to get someone to notice her]: Can YOU take my order? [Brewgal has to catch a train in 30 minutes and is somewhat short on time.]

Sweeper: No. You’ll have to wait for her (motioning to the salad server, who is now ringing up the other patron).

Other server wanders over: Can I take your order?

Brewgal: I’d like a pastrami panini.

Server: A what?

Brewgal: A pastrami panini (pointing to large menu behind the server on which the sandwhich is clearly written).

Server: Ok. What kind of bread do you want.

Brewgal: Rye. It says it comes on rye.

The server locates and puts on a pair of latex gloves. Then he starts fondling the few remaining pieces of bread in the bread basket on the counter. After determining that these pieces are too stale to use, he retrieves a new loaf of rye from under the counter.

Server: Do you want regular mustard or brown mustard?

Brewgal: Which is spicier?

Server: The regular mustard.

Brewgal: I’ll have the regular mustard.

Server: We’re out of regular.

Brewgal (mouth slightly agape): Why did you ask me to choose if you were out of one of the choices?

Server: That’s why I asked you if you wanted brown mustard. Is brown ok?

Brewgal: Sure.

The server gets a bottle of brown mustard from under the counter and begins coating the bread with brown mustard. Brewgal starts to have doubts about the ability of this particular server to correctly make a pastrami panini, given that he is treating it as a regular pastrami sandwich, rather than a hot squished sandwich. This doubt is confirmed when, after searching under the counter (the apparent source of all things sandwich, sort of like a sandwich Tardis), he announces,

Server: We’re out of pastrami.

At this point I threw up my hands and said, “I have to go.”

I was forced to get a supreme burrito at Taco Bell for dinner.