House, paint thyself

Don't I wish it were that easy? On Tuesday, we decided that it was the perfect time to paint the house (what better way to spend the remaining days of family vacation). Not the whole house, but the trim and porch. Easy right? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. In order to paint the porch and trim, two things had to happen. First, I had to scrape off the paint from the previous owner (who apparantly believed that another layer of paint will fix anything), and my DH had to replace the wood on the eaves because due to weathering over time and faulty building, they had dry rot. Excellent.


You may be thinking, "Why do they choose to do these things themselves (we all read about the tiling experience)?" You and I both know that money does not grow on trees (contrary to the belief system of both of my monkeys). I am all for saving money by doing it myself (even though it's hard, and I hate it).


So, it's Friday (on our behalf, we didn't start actual work until Wednesday). We aren't finished (I'm projecting a Sunday finish, actually). But at least we will have it done and checked off the massive "to-do list." Next up? Upstairs bathroom...can't wait.

Hey, man did you try the Grand Slam?

I don't know how many of you have ever eaten at Denny's. But, the family and I have twice prior to this vacation experience. Each time, we say, "Let's not do that again." Not because the food is horrible (food has to have a taste in the first place to accomplish this) or the restaurant is dirty, but because it consistently features servers who celebrate extra on April 20th.

This experience was no different. It was getting late, and we hadn't eaten dinner yet. Nothing really sounded good and we were too far from the campground to make it there, cook something and eat before the monkeys turned grumpy. We wanted something mild so what better choice? The place from where all nursing home cooks draw their recipe inspiration.

As soon as our server walked up to the table the DH and I exchanged a glance because what did we smell? The boy had been smoking, and it wasn't just a Marlboro. He took our orders, and brought us our drinks with straws. In fact, he brought a straw every time he refilled our drinks. About eight straws later (we were thirsty), he looked at the table and said, "I don't know why I keep bringing you straws." My DH goes all mellow and says, "It's alright, man." I look at him like, "Who are you?" A little later he is clearing our table and says, "Ma'am didn't you like your yogurt?" The thing is, it was all gone. I looked at the server and said, "Yes, I liked it." Then he looked again and said, "I must be trippin', sorry." I thought to myself, "Really? Hadn't noticed that."

As we were leaving I couldn't help thinking that Dazed and Confused probably got their extras from having open call auditions in the parking lot of the three Denny's we have been to. If they didn't, they should have.

Accident Prone or Accident Pro?

I think I know which category I fall into.

Clearly, I'm back from vacay (I did almost have my DH convinced we could make a living selling T-shirts on the beach, but at the last minute he changed his mind saying something about being impractical). So needless to say, I didn't post while I was gone (wi-fi and camping don't mix), but I do have some great stories from the road (my writer's notebook isn't just full of poetry, this time).

So story #1 comes from the fourth day of vacation. We were leaving my sister-in-law's house after the cubscout and kindergartner (she doesn't start until August but has told more than one stranger making conversation that she goes to real school now when they guess that she is in preschool) had played to their little hearts' content with the cousins. I thought it would be a good idea to take a group picture with everyone in it. I set the timer on my camera for 10 seconds. Then I scooted over to get into the shot. On my way to my spot, I slipped (like a full-on slip when there is no catching yourself because it happened so very, very fast). I then fell, but on the way down, I caught my head on the coffee table. I saw stars. Lots and lots of stars. The decision was made that I should go to the emergency room. I tried to protest, I did. But it hurt so much.

After a crazy ride (my brother-in-law drives faster than me, which is hard to do), we arrived and I was seen almost immediately. This would not happen where I live. In fact, we would probably still be waiting at the ER now if we were in my town. The doctor came in and took one look at me and said, "You are going to need a CT scan because no one can guess what's going on inside, they have to see it." This is a first for even me. Plenty of X-rays, shots, and the like, but never a CT scan.

So after the scan, the doctor came back and told me it was a minor concussion and neck strain, but I would be fine. Back we went to take the picture (this time my DH did the timer), and head out on the road.

My hopes of a career in the UFC have been dashed because getting hit in the head is just not my deal.