Poor Kevin. I think he wants me to go back to work so that I can stop dreaming up all these crazy projects. It all started last night, as I lay in bed, thinking about our window shades.

But to truly understand my madness, you need a bit of history. We bought this house from the Weismillers who had lived in it about a year. They did crazy stuff like paint the dining room that deep, awful blue, and let the yard go to pot. Before the Weismiller, however, this home was owned by the Watkins. They lived here over 20 years and their mark is still felt. If you go down in the basement and flip our fuse box, each fuse is hand labeled. They rewired, reworked, redid this whole house from top to bottom so it’s pretty easy to see figure out what was a Weismiller change vs what was a Waktins improvement.

Hence my dilemma last night. For some bizarre reason, we have blood red carpet in the upstairs bedroom. See Exhibit 1.

If that’s not bad enough, we also have navy blue blinds which clash horribly with the blood red carpet. See Exhibit 2.

So while I lay in bed, wondering how to decorate our poor mismatch bedroom, I found myself pondering that infernal question…. why.

Why would the Watkins have laid red carpet and blue blinds? These people where good, they wouldn’t make a mistake like that. Now, the Weismillers, they might do that. But if the Weismillers put in the carpet, what was there before?

So the next morning, I awoke and saw poor unsuspecting Kevin off to work. (Well, in truth, I lay in bed and murmured something as he went out the door and awoke a few hours later.) I immediately set about the mystery of the flooring. Our top floor was an old attic so I wouldn’t be surprised in all we had was subflooring but you never know. I pried corners and pulled edges to no avail. Thwarted, I plopped down on the stairs and there was the answer, staring me in the face. See Exhibit 3.

Hardwoods! Nice thick hardwoods! Or at least the promise of it. In a frenzy of excitement, I managed to keep myself busy until Kevin came home and let him in on my discovery. We decided to take the plunge. We hate that carpet. Not only is the color horrid, it sucks up animal hair and dander like you wouldn’t believe. Even if the underfloor turns out awful, we can always re-carpet with something more normal.

So today, I started ripping. There is definitely hard wood flooring underneath, but it’s in pretty rough shape. See Exhibit 4. I’m quite determined, however that with a drum sander and some elbow grease, I can have it shiny and new.

I’m taking a break from ripping but so far, it’s quite an improvement. See Exhibit 5. Not really sure how big of a project this is but I guess it’s too late to turn back now, right? Stop back soon for more updates as they develop…..

My latest passion is squirrel hunting. We have a ton of them living in our trees and they are horribly annoying. They keep burying these walnuts in my yard that then turn into baby walnut trees. My mother didn’t believe me until I pulled one out of the ground and there was the walnut sitting on the end of the plant. The last thing I need is more trees so I spend a large part of my day digging up these buried nuts. Hence, the squirrel hunting.

My backyard is squirrel mecca because of one simple fact. Water. Yup, my little pond out back is one of the few sources of water around right now. (We just went 35 days without any rainfall which, here in Oregon, was a record.) We get birds, cats and squirrels who visit our water hole. So when I see the little buggers sitting in our tree out back, I quietly open up the back door and call Artie over.

I think Artie was designed to hunt. He’s quite simply amazing. Unlike some big old goofy golden retriever or lab, when he sees a squirrel, he doesn’t start barking or jumping. Oh no, my dog goes into stalk mode. It’s quite simply amazing. I’ll hold him by the collar and we’ll watch that little squirrel climb down the tree. Artie’s fir will stand on end and he’ll crouch down really low and hold totally still. Once the little bugger has left the safety of the trunk and is drinking away, I’ll release Artie’s collar and whisper “go gettum.”

Artie takes off like a shot – totally quiet. No barking for jumping he’ll make a low and silent dash for the squirrel. Unfortunately, he is rather large so the squirrel usually sees him coming and it’s a race to the tree. So far, the squirrel has won but sooner or later, Artie has to catch him. Instead, the squirrel shoots up the tree and Artie leaps after it. The first time this happened, Artie almost got the little bugger who only scampered part way up the tree. I guess it thought it was safe. Little did it know that my dog loves to climb trees (or at least try). Now, they are on to us and will scamper almost to the top of the tree and chatter at us. Artie will dance around the trunk, howling while the squirrel sits up high chattering. Even though the chase was unsuccessful, I’ll usually praise the pooch and give him some hot dog as a reward.

I figure, if I ever do make it to West Virginia, I can bring my squirrel hunting dog and fit in just fine. Maybe I’ll even bring him next time I visit Erica. You know how those Kentuckians love their squirrel!!

Today I planted 250 bulbs. Of course, I still have another 150 left but I think I’m making progress. It sounds so impressive but it’s really pathetically easy. Dig hole, drop in some bulbs, fill. I’m a bulb fiend because you plant them once and they come back year after year with no maintenance or worry. Even better, if they like where they are, they spread and multiply so you get more and more flowers. The only down side is that they bloom and fade so quickly. If I could, I’d just use all bulbs all the time.

Summer is trying to hold on but the days are getting shorter and the nights colder. I must say, however, that September is my favorite month here in Portland. Winter is coming though and we’ve got to finish stacking firewood, lowering storm windows and tucking lawn furniture out of harms way. Funny enough, I’m actually looking forward to winter. I can’t wait for the rains to come. This year, for the first time, I won’t have to brave the elements and stand outside at the bus stop while icy winds whip past my shivering legs and aching feet. Instead, I’ll be curled up in front of a fire with a pot of tea and my dog and my cats and a little project or two. It’s been so long since I’ve used the oven for something other than pizza! I can’t wait for homemade mac ‘n cheese, roasted chicken, and twice baked potatoes. Yum!

Hmmm. I seems I have managed to make myself hungry. Guess I’ll just pop up to the kitchen and rummage for a late afternoon snack. Yum!

Well, there’s another cute baby in the world. Dave, another of Kevin’s groomsmen, just met his son Max. This was a very happy day for me because it meant I could go shopping for baby clothing.

I have this disorder you see. I L-O-V-E to buy little teeny baby clothing. This could be some strange offshoot of my general love of small things but that hasn’t yet been confirmed. All I know is that when I get around those little onesies and mini wash cloths, I go nuts. All the coordinating bibs and booties and barretts – it’s almost too much for me to handle. So when I got Dave’s email that the little guy was here, I immediately rushed out and bought a ton of baby clothing.

I paraded my newly purchased baby finds for Kevin over dinner but he was unenthused. He didn’t even let out one squeal of “oh how cute”. Not even the matching washcloths brought forth the small gasp of pleasure. Put a router bit in front of him and he melts like butter but a teensy tiny baby outfit evokes as much enthusiasm as an empty pop can. And so I found myself admiring my purchases by myself. Sigh.

Now I have to make a personalized baby card to enclose with the outfits and I’ll be set! Too bad they grow up so fast.

And we’re back! Greg and Lani were successfully married. Everyone said “I do” in the right places and all the exs decided to forever hold their peace. This wedding was especially fun because Kevin was a groomsman and got to see all the behind the scene chaos. Of course, to those of us sitting in the pews, everything looked smooth as silk but, like all weddings, there was a certain degree to hysterial panic behind the scenes.

After the wedding, however, I managed to convince Kevin to take me to Ikea. I have seen the catalog but never actually visited the store. Oh. My. Goodness. Lets just say that poor Artie ended up riding back home partially wedged into the trunk of our civic. I’m seriously thinking about renting a U-haul and going back. As Kevin likes to says, I’m not doing anything so I could (hypothetically) drive up to Seatle, shop, and make it back in time to have Kevin’s dinner on the table. Very tempting.

I may wait till next week though because both Kevin and I are still a little bleary eyed and sleep deprived from our whirlwind weekend. I’m thinking that people in the wedding party should be allowed to take a honeymoon as well. They do just as much work, after all!

In yet another inequity of the sexes, I am attempting to pack for this weekend. We are heading up to Seattle for Kevin’s old high school buddy’s wedding. (For those of you who attended my wedding, the groom-to-be was Kev’s best man – the one with the cane.)

I have, at this point, three bags, four pairs of shoes, seven outfits and a whole bag of makeup and accessories all for a measly two days. Kevin has one tux bag and a little overnight case. I’m still up trying to locate the lipstick that matches my dress; Kevin is lying in bed dreaming of sugar plums. It just isn’t fair.

For me to be “pretty” I need undergarmets, stockings, heels, dresses, earings, necklaces, braclets, nail/toe polish, makeup, perfume and a hair style. Kevin requires undergarments, deoderant, and a tux. How does that work exactly??? I mean, men can wear a ubiquitious dark suit to just about every major function in life. Graduation, weddings, funerals, church, work presentations, business trips, interviews, formal dinners…. all can be attended using the same piece of clothing. For me, however, the sad reality is not only do I need a different outfit, but each of those outfits requires a different pair of shoes. Why, I ask you, why!

It’s true that a little black dress will take you far but it sure won’t work at a wedding. (Unless, of course, the man of your dreams is marrying someone else. Shudder.) In a moment of weakness, I pulled mine out of the closet this afternoon and spent 45 minutes trying (unsuccessfully) to find some way to accessories it so it could do a summer wedding. No dice. And so I did the next best thing…. I went shopping. Only problem is, all the fall lines are in stores right now so my options were black, brown, navy or maroon. Again, not saying “summer wedding”. And so I returned home, defeated, and am now relegated to the meager contents of my (four) closest(s). All the while, Kevin played with his new router bits my dad got him for his birthday.

I’m too tired to do anything more. The thought of going through my shoe collection makes me break out in a cold sweat. Instead, I’m going to go join my slumbering husband. While he’s dreaming of sugar plum, I’ll be having nightmares about being ridiculed for wearing white shoes after labor day. It just ain’t fair, I tell ya.