The Pictures

Here are pictures of my master piece, as promised. Even a shot of the sconces. Ahhh, how nice.

Here is the picture that "completed" the bathroom. Now, doesn't that look better? :)

They Left Me

It's official. My parents left me. Off to the MTC in Provo they went on Monday. Next week, they'll leave for London for a year and a half. And what has become of me? I have become an empty nester at such the young and tender age of 28. You may think I jest, but it's true. I'm the one with the empty house, and it is THEY who have left for greener pastures (not hard to do if you're leaving Utah -- everything is greener, except maybe Vegas). Here's a couple treasured pic's from their open house the night before they left. I spent my first evening without them at home cleaning up from the party. It was SOOOO quiet. I could barely stand it. It's a really good thing I have a roommate moving in. If I didn't, I'd probably go mad.

My Favorite Room

Hurrah! Hurrah! Last night, I hung sconces on the wall! It may not be the final touch in renovating my bathroom, but it is ONE of the final touches. And pardon my french, but they look !@*& good on that wall. Right next to the picture I bought that accents the room perfectly. The room would totally be incomplete without that picture. Good thing I found it.

You heard me right. Yes, indeed. I have actually taken some interest in my dwelling place and have renovated the bathroom. Of course, I'm on a limited budget. So sadly enough, renovating did not include replacing that unsightly white & green linoleum on the floor. But I repainted and redecorated. That was a financial undertaking in itself. Apparently, metallic paint is expensive. So if you ignore the floor, being in my bathroom is a totally relishable experience.

Oh, and I must give credit where credit is due. My sister was kind enough to offer her services in repainting the room with me for my birthday present. She spent from about 9am to almost 5pm on a Saturday helping me prep and paint. It made it go by a lot faster having four hands and someone to chat with throughout the process. She's a wonder. That's what she was doing for her "day off" from her five children. And then, of course, Male helped me. I ran into some trouble putting in the screws for the sconces and in figuring out how to work the caulking. Did I mention I'm not very handy? Fortunately, he proved to be most helpful on both those fronts. So, thank you, thank you, thank you.

So, I will put pictures up on the blog so all of you can see. I remembered to take BEFORE pictures right after I tore down the wallpaper, which was a little too late. So, sorry for not being able to promise you those. You may not completely understand the degree to which this bathroom has experienced a remarkable transformation. Those who have been to my house may remember the somewhat unremarkable or luckily forgettable experience of visiting my restroom.

I can describe briefly the ugliness that was my bathroom: On the bottom half of the wall below the railing there was a nasty, safari green paint. On the top of the wall and all over the vanity/sink area there was this tan/khaki, linen-textured wallpaper that had big brown faded palm leaves all over. And there was nothing worthy of calling decor to be seen in there.

And now? Oh, it's lovely. I should be an interior designer. It is SOOO much better. I still have to redo some caulking, but I think that will be the finishing touch. I can't help revelling in it during the ending phases of the renovation process. Over the last few days, I've taken every opportunity to just sit in there because it's so nice.

It might be recommendable that I renovate a room that would be more appropriate to hang out in, like my bedroom or the kitchen or living room. The kitchen....ooh.... that would be a smart way to get me to hang out in there. Ah, well, I'll have to save up for it, so it won't be happening at least within the next month. After all, the holidays are coming. But when I DO get around to the next room, I promise to remember to provide BEFORE and AFTER pictures.

Anti-Bucket

My recent musings come from a late night experience I had last week. I was home playing a game of spider solitaire on the computer and having my near-daily dose of ice cream. Now, I'll be honest. Spider solitaire has become an obsession. I finally had to delete it off my work computer because it was SO distracting. And I don't admit to people how often I've been playing it because I think it's ridiculous. It's one of the few things that will draw me to the computer when I'm not at work -- that and selling things on Ebay. And I'm not sure why I play it because it actually frustrates the crap out of me. Is the difficult level really winnable every time? Because I can only seem to win every 20 times or so. It could just be that I suck. But I prefer to think that winning would be impossible. It makes me feel smarter. :)

Anyhow, before I sat down to my love/hate computer game, I got a bowl of ice cream. As I mentioned previously, I've been in the habit of eating ice cream almost every day lately. So, on I went about my daily business. As I was scooping, I noticed I was starting to reach the bottom of my stockpile. Normally, when this happens, the only thing I'm thinking is, "Oh no! Must buy more ice cream!" This time, however, I was disconcerted for an entirely different reason.

This particular container of ice cream was a large bucket -- the kind that when you get to the bottom you risk getting your whole arm sticky trying to dig down to its plunging, vat-like depths. Those buckets are GINORMOUS. They would feed entire villages for weeks in third world countries if they could afford the expensive temperature-controlled shipping costs to get them there.

By the way, I don't normally buy ice cream by the bucket. We happened to have this bucket left over from some event my mother had been a part of. And I'm all about left overs and free food. It was about half-full when I started (that comforts me slightly.). But the facts were, and still are, unsettling. My parents hadn't been eating any of this. So, I had only me, myself and I to hold accountable. I had, all by myself, eaten all the way down to the bottom of the bucket. And there I was. I'd hit rock bottom. Or bucket bottom. Whatever. If there were an ice cream rehab, at that moment I would have been motivated enough to admit myself.

All at once, I was keenly aware of the genius of those bite-sized Ben & Jerry cartons that look big enough to satiate an ant, and the liberation in Haagen Daz and other fine ice creams who only deal in smaller portions. The naked truth is you will never, EVER get to the bottom of the bucket with these ice creams. You may, indeed, consume just as many calories with all those wholesome, high-quality, full cream, more fat than exists in an entire cow ingredients, but it will be pint-sized calories. So, at least mentally, you'll feel much better.

Okay, so I was only somewhat traumatized, considering I ate my bowl of ice cream that night, regardless. And there is still a good serving or two left in the depths of the bucket. But it's been over a week and I can't stomach going back and finishing the bucket. It's a BUCKET for pete's sake! I may secretly over-indulge in spider solitaire, and maybe even shopping. But an ice cream bucket is where I draw the line.