Music to My Eyes

I’m not one to shirk technology. I have my share of CDs and DVDs and whatnot. I draw the line at mp3 players, though. No matter how hard friends and family try to make me adapt to the changing times, I still can’t get used to downloading my favorite music to a portable player with earbud attachments.

Hell, the Walkman™ was an issue for me.

Anyway, one thing I never outgrew was my deep appreciation for vinyl. No, not the wearable kind. I’m talking about LPs, 78’s, good old fashioned records. I still own a turntable, and have most of my dad’s LP collection from the 70’s (Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass, baby!), plus boxes of LP’s dating back to the 40’s. Most of those I got at a blind auction decades ago for $5. Best buy EVAH. I still have the very first album I ever owned: Asia by Asia. It was a birthday gift from a friend, and still one of my favorite things.

One thing that always bothered me was leaving them propped up in a shelf. Seemed a shame to hide the album artwork, so I managed to convince Hubby to take me to the Swedish Junk Place to get some frames for them, and I finally got around to hanging them up where I wanted.


90125, Synchronicity, American Pie, Tubular Bells (special pressing), Outer Space Inner Mind, Asia, Eye in the Sky, and abacab. I wanted to set up the turntable under the albums but Rockband stuff is a bit bulkier than I expected. Also, not mine, so don’t judge.

One day I hope to do a mirror image of that with the classical albums, if I have room. At least it fills up an awkward space in the bonus room. Of course, it also brings attention to the crack in the wall. Something else to get fixed soon.

And I will patch it up, while listening to Leonard Nimoy :)

Tuesday Sithy

I laughed so hard I snorted water out through my nose.

vader card lol

Special hat tip to xbradtc for the funneh. Also, he owes me for spilling my drink. Doesn’t matter if it’s water. He still owes me. :D

Sew Much Adventure

I began my day by tackling one of the dozen projects I listed in a previous post: the sewing machine. Mentally, I thought I was ready to clean it up and get it primed and painted in what I estimated would be a couple of hours.

Oh, I was so very wrong.


There she is, in all her mostly clean and not as rusty glory. But the process was not as smooth as I thought it would be.

I started by setting up my cordless drill to charge. No worries, since I could go do some laundry and the bed. I come back to find the battery fully charged, and to my chagrin the part that holds the bits in place is missing. So much for using the drill. Fine….FINE!!! I will do it the old fashioned way. I go out to the garage and place the machine laying on the floor for ease of access. I get on my knees and find ten mud dauber hives. TEN!! They must have really liked this machine. Finally I see the screws, along with what seems to be an incredible amount of rust. After torquing and tweaking and squealing in frustration, I go get the WD-40™ and proceed to administer a life-giving dose to each screw. After waiting a few minutes, I begin to undo them, the oil having helped quite a bit. Finally I can remove the unusable top and in a fit of triumph I am overcome by the thought of having this chore done in an hour or so.

This is where y’all laugh. A lot.

I drag the base over to the grass, put on latex gloves and begin to spray it with Krud Kutter™. As I sprayed I scrubbed the areas with a wire brush. And scrubbed. And scrubbed. Suddenly I feel a tingle on my thumb. The latex glove is no match for the wire brush and now I have a small cut suffused with cleaner and rust.

*makes mental note to schedule a tetanus shot*

I go back to the garage and get my gardening gloves and continue to tackle the base, now free of mud dauber hives. Suddenly I feel movement inside the gardening glove. Striving not to lose my cool, I manage to get the glove off in time to see a spider crawling on my hand. This is where I jumped around and did the Tarantella, which in retrospect was rather appropriate. I calm down enough to shake out the gloves and once I am sure no other resident is inside, I put them back on and continue to scrub as much rust as I can, all the while thinking how much scrubbing needs to be done, and how suddenly the rust looks awesome and industrial chic. But no, I need to get it primed, painted and sealed. After about 45 minutes of scrubbing, I begin to rinse it off. Now it looks a bit better, but still rusty. Next step will be to sand it a bit more to dislodge as much rust as I can.

Perhaps I will get a rust-reversing primer. More and more I am liking that idea. I want to enjoy the process of upcycling, not be resentful of it. I also wish to avoid any future trips to the clinic. Getting a tetanus shot isn’t exactly how I pictured spending my free time. On the other hand, the clinic is right by Hobby Lobby, so I have that going for me, which is nice.

I’ll let y’all know how the tetanus shot goes ;)

Total Disconnect

Today I had the pleasure of taking Hubby’s car in to have a few tweaks done to the rotors. I was prepared to spend at least two hours in the walk in freezer waiting area. I had a book and I had my Kindle, in case I finished my book. As y’all know, I prefer actual paper over electronic when it comes to reading material, but I couldn’t make up my mind on what other book to take so I took the Kindle because it had a variety from which to choose.

Thus endeth my justification.

So, I hand over the key and decide to go watch a trainwreck for a bit. Maury was on. I enter the waiting area to find a gentleman sitting across from the TV, managing his phone and his iPad thingy. He looks up and sees me and asks if he can change the channel to a less vomitous fare. I acquiesce, and proceed to take out my book and reading glasses (sob), and lose myself in the tale of intrigue.

I was lost exactly three minutes.

The gentleman finished managing his phone and turns to me to tell me how much he loves texting. When I say he loves it, I mean it. He LOVES it. He proceeds to tell me how handy it is to use when he wishes to tell his boss he isn’t going in to work (so that he doesn’t have to fake a cough on the phone). He prefers to do his break-ups over text so he doesn’t have to hear the “Did I do something wrong?” or the “Is it me??” whining from women (his words). He really enjoys the short messaging that forces people to be concise and devoid of any emotion when communicating.

He spent an hour talking to me in the most animated way about how he hates talking to people because they are emotional and needy. He spent an hour talking to me after his keys had been returned and he had paid for the services. And not once did he see the irony in the conversation. It’s a bit sad that all I had to contribute to the conversation were monosyllabic answers and a few nods of the head. But that was all I could get in, really. He finally noticed the time and bid me a farewell, and left to go back to work. I sat there in the now-silent waiting area and felt like I was on a flat sea. I can’t imagine feeling about human interaction the way he does. I hate texting. There is no emotion in it, and it’s not like you can imagine hand gestures and loud exclamations with a smiley face. And I need the hand waving and loudness, believe me.

I thought about that as I held up my book to avoid eye contact with the new customer who came in. I was justified, since she changed the channel to The View. And there is just so much human interaction I can take from that :D


Seems I suffer from that affliction.

Ever since Hubby’s job took him to DC, I have been trying to fill my days doing something besides cleaning. Yes, I have kept the house relatively clean but I have some things that hinder my progress in organizing it. First, I have the old bathroom mirror still taking residence in my dining area. My niece’s fiance wants it, but doesn’t have the transporting capabilities at the moment. Second, my son’s loft bed is still intact. My BIL wants it, but has not had time to come disassemble it, and transport it back to Houston. Frankly, I am getting ready to disassemble it.

With an ax.

Anyway, because of the absence of Hubby and Son, and because I have only one other person to cook for (and that person doesn’t eat much), I have been trying to keep myself busy enough so that I don’t miss them too much. Eldest has now been gone for a year, so that void has lessened. But the house still echoes sadly, even with the dogs here. So to counter the loneliness, I have gone whole hog and begun a series of projects:

  • Refinish thrift store dining set
  • Repaint thrift store nightstands
  • Repaint flea market frames
  • Make headboard out of old frame
  • Convert old sewing machine to a vanity
  • Make statement mirror for above mantel
  • Make coffee table stand for traffic light
  • Refinish and paint thrift store folding chairs
  • Make pumpkin topiaries for front door area

I think that’s it. But before I can do the big stuff, I have to get rid of the loft bed, so I can move Son’s stuff upstairs and move the office stuff to his room along with the chess table that is also taking up residence in my dining area so that I can finally do the dining set and place THAT in the dining room, once the mirror is gone. So now you know why I want to take an ax to the bed.

Until stuff leaves this house, I am in a holding pattern, but at least there are small things I can do to keep busy. I have finished the drawers, and painted vases, and managed to complete a wall project for my room. So I have that going for me, which is nice.

Keeping busy is the best antidote for loneliness. Well, next to eating ice cream. But until Blue Bell™ supplies stabilize, sanding and painting will have to suffice ;)

A Woman and Her Dog

My Shetland Shepherd, Ivy, got sick for a few days and decided she would decorate my hardwood floors with the contents of her innards. She is fine now, but the stench emanating from her posterior required her human to do the unthinkable: give her a bath. This required a bit of preparation, since she is endowed with a very long, very sheddy coat. After about 40 minutes of combing through tangles, leaves, dead grass clippings, and *ahem* dried bowel contents matted to her backside, I began to prepare for the coming dread.

Me: Ok, time for a bath, Ivy!

Ivy: (looks at me puzzled) I’m sorry, what is this that you speak of?

Me: Time to get you clean. In the tub. With soap and water.

Ivy: (comprehension dawns) OMG OMG OMG I’M GOING TO GET WET!!!

Me: (places her in tub of warm water) Don’t be scared, sweetie.


Me: Calm down, it’s WATER!!


Me: (handles washcloth) It’s ok, don’t panic.

Ivy: Oh, ok… you got the washcloth. You may proceed.

Me: See? Just shampooing you and rinsing you alllll nice and calm.


Me: Oh for cryi— STOP THAT!!!!

Ivy: Ok, that feels bette–no, wait… MUST SHAKE AGAIN!!!


Ivy: Ok, that’s fine. You may continue.

Me: You are so damn lucky I don’t dump this water on your head.

Ivy: You are so foolish, human. Do my bidding and finish drying me.

Me: (takes blow drier out) Ok, stay.


Me: Stop moving, you crazy mutt!

Ivy: (preening) Now this side, now over here, and don’t forget my tail.

Me: My lord, but you smell even worse wet.

Ivy: HURRY UP!!!

Me: Ok, done. Go to the living room.

Ivy: Are you nuts? I have to go outside so I can roll around and get this smell off of me.

Me: Not happening.


Me: (grabs comb again)

Ivy: Hm….you know, the carpet looks comfortable. I think I will go lay on it.

Me: And I get to do this with Lenny tomorrow *sobs*

Yes, my life is awesome :)

Why Siths Should Never Watch Home Improvement Shows

It took me a long time to realize it, but it’s true. Siths should never, ever watch home improvement shows.It is hard for me to accept, but there it is.

I am not a fan of what people call “reality shows”. Seems like a fishbowl of drama and frankly, not real at all. That’s why I began to watch home improvement shows. People had the same problems I do: leaky roofs, bad insulation, Formica™. You watch to learn what wonderful improvements you can do to your home to update it and make it look Imperial. Who DOESN’T want a lightsaber sconce in their bedroom?? Or a Death Star light fixture??

Yes, I am making one of those. No, it’s not for me.

But then slowly it begins to seep in. You begin to realize that a lot of those so-called updates are for show and not for function. Anyone who knows me from the internet knows I am a big fan of bubble baths. You run hot water, add some scented bubble concoction, and sit back with a book and a glass of wine, or with the op-eds and a bottle of beer. Your own personal haven far from the madding crowd. Lately the trend in bath updates have been rather eye-catching: big stand-alone soaker tubs, rainfall showers with wall jets, bowl sinks, etc. And at first the Sith in you SQUEEEEs and wants it all like Alderaan burning. But the more you look at it, the more you start to see how impractical, how rebellious it is. Those stand-alone tubs hold almost no heat. The rainshowers feel like you are being waterboarded. The jets assault your sensitive areas when you least expect it. And those bowl sinks? Just try keeping them rebel scum free. The Force can only do so much and this is why Siths must be practical. Carrara marble? Nope, try quartz or stick with the passé granite. Better yet, go with cement countertops and steel-topped kitchen islands. Bowl sinks? Nope, try the old fashioned undermount for seamless and little grout care, or get the trough type that you can hose down (with little Siths, this is a necessity). Rainshowers? Stick to what works and has adjustable settings.

In short, after my blather above, Siths must not only be practical, they must also adhere to the aesthetics of the Empire. This is my mantra as I sit down to watch someone’s bath being crashed. The last thing I need to do is spend extra time handwashing marble tiles and shining chrome.

Though the coffeebar and wine fridge in the bath sound awfully Sithy. ;)

Monday Sithy

My friend Tiberius found this and I had to snag it for my cover photo on a social site that lives in infamy.

boba fett collection lol

Now for the debate:

Would Boba Fett be able to capture Predator and Alien? I mean, this is the guy whose dad was the “quintessential” soldier and cloned to oblivion and the so-called progeny couldn’t hit the broadside of an Imperial Cruiser from ten feet away. But Boba was raised by his dad, so he has that going for him, and that’s nice.

Feel free to discuss in the comments while I go clean the bathrooms :D

In a DIY Mood

I went out to the garage a few weeks ago, and tripped. If it hadn’t been for a pile of clothing headed to Goodwill™, I would have been in need of facial reconstructive surgery. It wasn’t pretty, and neither was my vocabulary. But I was gracious enough to acknowledge that most of that was my fault. I have been neglectful of my list of projects and let them pile up in the garage. For a while it was difficult to get anything done due to the scorching hot weather. But this is Texas and I am not waiting for the two days of fall to get here, so I sucked it up and got back into crafting with paint.

I’ve had a small chest of drawers that have been storing some extension cords and leg weights. Don’t ask. Anyway, it was painted a celery green with butterfly handles. Perfect for a little girl, which no longer exist in this family due to that pesky “growing up” thing.

(Yes, I cried when I took it outside to prep with primer.)

Anyway, I decided to repaint and repurpose the chest of drawers. The half bath upstairs has no storage of any kind and the chest is small enough to fit alongside the wall. Now that Hubby is gone I have to keep myself busy doing all the projects I kept putting off. I had purchased some Martha Stewart Paint™ in Polished Silver because A) it was on clearance, 2) it was shiny, and iii) I couldn’t make up my mind on what color to use. So after literally months of deliberation I finally dragged the dresser outside and painted it.

silver dresser diy 1

Wow, did it turn out pretty! Too pretty for the bathroom upstairs, so I am placing it in my bedroom for now. There’s an empty spot where his dresser used to be, so it will fill the area nicely until its return.

silver dresser diy 2

A slightly blurry close-up of the silver. Silver leaf would have been shinier, but far too expensive to use on a cheap little dresser like this. I’m ambivalent about the drawer knobs, but they will do for now.

This was the big project yesterday, but I had other smaller ones I managed to do as well. I ended up painting vases and turning them into vahses. Yeah, I don’t get why there’s two different pronunciations, either. But it sure sounds grand, doesn’t it?

Next up will be the thrift store folding chairs. If all goes according to plan, I will have them finished by October.

Of 2017 :D

When I Was Your Age…

While helping Son get squared away at school, we got acquainted with his peers, as well as his command. Walking around the school, talking with other students about campus life when some dudes were running around questing for fire was a lot of fun, and they were surprised at the many changes that had occurred since we had matriculated. The biggest change was of course, Bonfire. And then it happened.

“Back when I was your age….” I sighed, and stopped.

Oh. Dear. GAWD!!!

I keep catching myself saying that phrase more often now, along with “back in my day”. I’m not even 50 years old and feel the need to have a shawl and a cane at my disposal when I say those phrases. Little One comes up to me to ask if she can get some high heels for a dance and I spew it out like an incantation. “Back in MY day, we wore flats and LIKED IT!!” Never mind she has flats and sneakers. I have to fly off the handle like some deranged wild hag. Yesterday I was at the grocery store and a young gal asked me where to find the wine mixer cocktails. I asked her what those were and after she explained, I said, “Back in my day, we called those wine coolers”, to which she replied, “why??” I told her to check on the aisle across from the beer fridge and departed, feeling my hair turn a whiter shade of appalled.

That’s it. I am NOT going to say those phrases anymore. I refuse to go down the path of my forefathers in this regard. From now on I will be more mindful of being repetitive. I will strive to be a bit more worldly as I impart my wisdom to the younger crowds.

Henceforth, I will say:”When I was very, very young….”

Because that makes me sound like a wise storyteller, and not like a sour, prickly crone :D


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