December 2004

December 28 , 2004: Well, we keep promising not to disappear for weeks on end, but somehow, we still do. It's not intentional, we swear, it just that we're kind of like ADHD ten year olds-- Easily Distracted.

We began the month by decorating the house for Christmas:

Yup in the background of the photos, those are wires hanging from the ceiling, a utility cart in the hallway, the remains of crumbled plaster and bare ceiling joists. Somehow we lucked out on the camera angle and managed to just miss the 28 sheets of drywall and cement board stacked in the parlor doorway to the right in the picture on the right above. We BE photographers!

Everyone laughs when they come in to see the house fully decorated for the holidays in the midst of all the construction, but hey, if we waited until the house was done to put up a Christmas tree, we wouldn't struggle with a tree stand until about 2010. Tempting, to be sure, but our poor, long-suffering six year-old wouldn't be too happy about it, and we've already warped her enough for years of therapy. Which we'll probably end up paying for.

Speaking of said six year-old and therapy bills, she has changed her favorite TV show. She's allowed to stay up one night a week past her eight o'clock bedtime for one television show during the school year, and for years, it's always been Survivor. Every Thursday night, we snuggled up for an hour with a big bowl of popcorn and chocolate milkshakes to watch caffeine and junk food-starved castaways work their sorry butts off and bi%$& at each other as a result of low blood sugar and generally wretched personalities. Good times...

But at the end of this past summer, she started lurking around the family room on Sunday nights after we flipped on the TV Sunday evening after the end of a long weekend, and she discovered Extreme Home Makeover. She was immediately enthralled, and every week begged to stay up late enough to see what the Makeover Team was tearing down, to see whether they'd get the furniture moved in time for the family to come home in Eight Hours!, and to see what Ty's secret room was.

Sigh. So much for Survivor.

I liked those dysfunctional castaways, dammit.

So a couple of weeks ago, as we were driving to school, she piped up from the backseat, "Mama, is Extreme Home Makeover real?"

"Well, yes, Sweetie," I replied, "it's real. Families who have had terrible things happen to them apply to the show, and if they're fortunate, they're selected to have their homes rebuilt and their lives can take a whole new direction."

"Wow... that's so cool, Mama," she says, as I swell with pride at my empathetic, socially-conscious daughter.

"So, does that mean I can write to Extreme Home Makeover and have them come to our house?"

Uhhh... no?

No. Um... definitely no.

When your child has decided that its time to call in a major television network to come fix your house in a week, it's time to get MOVING.

That master bathroom we'd demolished last March, and started re-plumbing last month? It got Bathroom-ing, real quick.

We ran the new electric, switches and outlets, roughed in most of the plumbing supply lines, the drain vent lines, framed in the Jacuzzi tub surround, installed cement board around the tub surround and on the floor, insulated the walls, and when we finally stopped, we ended up with this:

We worked for a few weeks pretty steadily, and we were happy with what we'd accomplished. We could just about feel what it'll be like to sink into that big ol' jetted tub. At the end of a work session one Saturday, we dropped the tools, stacked our supplies against the wall, and called it a night. We'd been working hard, and we climbed into bed exhausted, ready to sleep late into a lazy Sunday morning.

Or so we thought. We had no problem getting to sleep-- staying asleep, however, proved to be a challenge for the Kilted One when our ghosts decided to pay us a visit in the middle of the night.

Now, it's been a while since our spectral housemates have shown themselves, so we really can't complain about the visit. We just wish they'd arrive at a more civilized hour.

Apparently, though, the recent spate of activity was just too much to ignore, so they came to see what was going on. According to the Kilted One, the glowing blue orbs floating around the room weren't much of a problem, but when they started poking around the plumbing fixtures, rattling faucets and tools, sleep was not happening for a few hours. Whatever they did, it must have satisfied them that we remain responsible stewards of the house, because we haven't seen them since.

Either that or they introduced themselves to the intricacies of indoor plumbing, and were not impressed.

Anyway, we're moving on to drywall next weekend-- stay tuned for the updates on that little project. Drywall mud is evil, evil, evil stuff...

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