May 31, 2006

As one of the final (HA!) steps of all this remodeling business, we are going to replace our ugly-ass gray carpeting with hardwood floors. We certainly discussed the best possible timing for this endeavor, and I think we can all agree that “right before your infant son starts learning how to walk” is the hands-down winner.

Sorry, Riley. Perhaps we can encase you in some sort of protective plastic ball.

This process is scheduled for the second week of June, when contractors will descend upon the house once again, no doubt spraying lube everywhere with wanton glee, rip out our horrific Cthulu-esque carpets (the detritus that sifts through an old rug? It-Which-Cannot-Be-Named), and sand and finish the oak floors that lurk underneath.

Apparently this will fill our home with deadly toxins (score another one for being the Best Parents Ever) and we’ll have to be out for a few days. Our plan is to stay at a nearby hotel, which I am sure will be both luxurious and relaxing, much like visiting a fancy spa in Arizona.

Oh, except we’ll have the boy. Damn. So basically it’ll be three days holed up in a cheap motel with a 9-month-old. Don’t chew the comforter, Riley dear, haven’t you seen that Dateline episode with the stain-revealing ultraviolet light?

JB is leaving next week for a business trip to Taipei, so in some insanely short amount of time between his return and the Great Carpet Excavation (now showing on the lesbian porn channel!) we have to remove every single item of furniture that is currently touching the floor, and store it. Somewhere.

There’s the garage, but it’s already crammed with random house-cruft. There’s the kitchen, but it’s pretty much the size of a Triscuit. I guess we could stare at everything real hard like Luke Skywalker did when he was in that swamp and hope we’re able to levitate it all.

Honestly, I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do. It should be interesting. And by “interesting” I mean, of course, “yet another horrific remodel nightmare, even worse than the mystery lube”.


Hey! Speaking of terrible things relating to the place we call home, where our precious, edible child currently lives, we are infested with vermin. Oh, I’m not even lying:


Check that out: FOUR rats. FOUR. And that’s just what I saw when I happened to look out under the bird feeder the yesterday morning. Remember how we had ONE rat, and I called him Frank, and it was sort of cute, kind of? Well, it is officially GROSS now. As in pestilence, city-baby-attacked-by-rats (anyone remember GBH? gross.

The only good thing to come of this is the email exchange JB had with his mother today:

JB’s mom: what is with all the rats??? seriously, are these in your yard?? You need to trap and kill them, JB!

JB: Like overnight they descended on our house to feed. ¬†Extermination process has begun but they are already in our crawlspace and in our walls. Last night I had to drill a couple holes in Riley’s room trying to get at them.¬†¬†

I shouldn’t laugh, but haaaaa! Sometimes the man is all that and a bag of chips.

May 29, 2006

From the good…


Memorial Day flags at a local cemetery.


Riley at the Ballard Locks:





to the bad…

Ahhh! It’s George Bush, dangerously close to the boy.


You guys are probably starting to think I’m staging these photos, but I swear to god this was in the bathroom today while the drywallers wrapped up the last of their work.


Sooo, after taking care of, uh, matters at hand, a satisfying smoke to reward oneself for a job well done? Jesus.


to the utterly unexplainable…

Spotted during a drive through our neighborhood. What. The. HELL?


Also, because this one’s too good not to share, an overtired and punch-drunk baby going crazy over a granola bar wrapper. Haaaaaaa!

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