Apr
15
April 15, 2007
We gave Riley a buzz-cut on Saturday, mostly due to the fact that his hair had grown out from the last time we clippered him and it was woefully apparent that we’d missed a few spots. With random tufts of longer-than-normal fuzzy toddler hair protruding here and there from his scalp, he was starting to look just the tiniest, tiniest bit like one of those Chinese crested dogs. As I lovingly documented elsewhere, Riley is not exactly what you might call a fan of having his hair clippered; his haircuts always involve thrashing limbs and dramatic wailing and sometimes even exertion-related farting—and that’s just from his father, har har HAR!
Newly shorn, semi-pitiful.
It wasn’t all tears and sorrow this weekend, though, we also had a very successful trip to a nearby farm during a particularly photogenic stretch of weather. I imagine as long as we live in this area Riley will grow up being intimately familiar with the Kelsey Creek Farm, because it’s such a great place for a family outing. Despite the proximity of the bustling Lake Hills Connector and downtown Bellevue, the farm always feels like a deliciously secluded slice of country life, complete with animals to visit and lovely, eye-soothing scenery.
The weather’s been schizophrenic: sunny, rainy, cloudy, cold, sunny. It’s like the skies can’t make up their minds, like they’re trying on clothes. Hmmm, how about this? Mmmm . . . nah. We spent the weekend clambering in and out of fleece jackets, stuffing Riley into coats and vests and peeling him back out. Spring would show up for a few minutes, then hustle out the door leaving cold dark gusts in its wake.
I wish the sunshine would stick around for a while, because not only is our backyard in dire need of some drying out (it’s like a dogshit-studded marsh back there), but I went and got a pedicure today—with my friend Sarah, as part of a fabulous Ladies-Who-Lunch spa afternoon—and my toes are so goddamn spiffy it’s a crime against nature to be hiding them under waterproof hiking shoes. My toes are looking California, but it’s feeling Minnesota outside. Woe.
:::
My brother in law, the mortician, has been really into smoking and barbecuing meat lately. Like making his own jerky and so on, with this fancy smoker contraption. In the course of discussing the various ways of flavoring the beef/chicken/whatever, I asked if he had ever considered using a (clean, OBVIOUSLY) embalming machine to actually circulate marinade through a cut of meat.
You should have SEEN HIS FACE. I’ve never in my whole life felt so smart, I swear to god. It was like I just invented gravity right then and there. I don’t know if he’ll actually, you know, pursue this particular idea, but man. Marinade embalming? GENIUS, apparently.
Apr
13
April 13, 2007
We now have six choices of Benjamin Moore painted on a wall in the kitchen; behold:
I had high hopes for Dorset Gold, the bottom left color, but sadly it looks less like a bold, warm, artistic choice and more like something I’d find in Riley’s diaper after a meal involving carrots. I think Powell Buff (upper far left) is still my favorite, although I kind of like Barley (upper far right) too.
Bah. I’m already sick of the remodel and it hasn’t even started yet. We got our final bid back and it’s higher than we had expected, so we’re having to scale back on a couple things. We were going to do this really cool built-in bookcase door between the new office space and the living room, a sort of sliding pocket door structure that would contain shelves—almost like a Scooby-Doo-esque secret passage into a cave filled with gold coins!—but we got the quote on that and since there isn’t really a cave filled with gold coins with which we could pay for the (10K! Whafuck?) door system, NEVER MIND, we’ll just drape a beaded curtain there or something. The built-in kitchen nook also has a scary pricetag, so we’re thinking of just creating the space and putting in a table and chairs rather than building in the U-shaped bench we had planned on.
Next week the work officially starts, in that workers will demo our existing carport. That should be . . . loud and obnoxious, but at least there’s no construction inside the house yet. Thinking of the days ahead when we’ll be washing dishes in the bathroom and putting our kitchen and stove—where, exactly? It is a mystery!—I mentioned to JB last night that it would be easier, logistically speaking, just to move, if housing wasn’t so insanely ridiculously inflated that is, and he said, “Oh no, the remodel’s only going to take three months.”
He thought for a moment, then amended his statement: “Four months maybe.”
Riiiiiiight.
So this weekend we need to remove all the stuff that’s currently in the creepy, spider-filled storage closet in the carport in preparation for the demolition work. Once the carport is gone, there will be a giant open gap into the backyard, so we also need to figure out what the hell to do about Dog (build a temporary fence, maybe).
You know, the bright side of all this upcoming construction work is that Riley will be in seventh heaven. I hope they bring a GIANT EXCAVATOR.
All right, your turn. What are you doing this weekend?
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