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When I sat down to write this it was my intention to share a few facts about him with you.  But things kept tumbling out, so much so that it was difficult to stop at a hundred.  My parents were still quite young when my brother and I were born, so the farm and my paternal grandparents played a large role in those formative years.  Many of these are from those years when little girls are so attached to their grandpas.

1.  When I was little his pet name for me was Sally-Ann.
2.  He taught me how to hammer a nail without smashing my fingers.
3.  He tried to teach me how to fish, but I was too impatient and too easily excited.  More than once when the bobber disappeared and I jerked the pole I landed fish lips, but no fish.
4.  He loved to hunt and fish.
5.  He loved his bird dogs, especially cranky old Pepper.
6.  He taught me what a cow pie was, and laughed at me when I stepped in them.
7.  He had to work the well pump for me, the handle was too heavy. 
8.  He explained salt licks to me, after we went to the feed store to pick them up.  He let me help set them out for the cows.
9.  He looked strange in a suit, he always wore overalls.  The stripy ones, not the solid.  He was very particular about the brand.  He wore them over a long sleeved work shirt, or a dress shirt that had fallen to ‘work’ status.  He looked even stranger in shorts - heh.

10.  He could build or fix anything.
11.  He was a soldier, a factory worker, and a farmer.
12.  He could grow anything ... once even a pot plant someone had given him. He’d no idea what it was until someone told him.  He burned it in the trash barrel.
13.  He had little use for animals on the outside, and a huge soft spot for them on the inside.
14.  He saved a baby racoon once, named him Puff and raised him in the banty hen cage.  Puff could pop a whole grape in his mouth and then spit out the whole peel.  Grandpa loved this trick, and Puff was positively fat on grapes.
15.  He drank cheap beer; Old Milwaukee, Stag, Schlitz ... all of which was kept in a cooler in the truck, or later in its own refrigerator in the garage as grandma didn’t allow such things in the house.  I don’t drink beer ... but I may have one tonight.
16.  He liked his steak well done.  I was mortified when he ordered it that way at a restaurant where I worked when I was still in high school.
17.  He made me a cedar ‘hope chest’ for my high school graduation.
18.  He snored ... loudly.
19.  I never knew him to drive anything other than a pick-up truck.
20.  You were taking your life in your hands by riding with him.  Of course as kids we thought it was better than an amusement park ride.  My mom was not so amused.
21.  He used to take us to the store for ‘pop’ (the mid-western term for soda or coke).  He was really going to pick up another six pack of beer.
22.  He did not get along well with my father ... I didn’t know this until recently.
23.  He didn’t want to live in Florida ... it was a fight my grandmother won.
24.  I don’t think he would have wanted to die here.
25.  Food was best when it was fried down to shoe leather consistency.
26.  He never ate the fish he caught.
27.  Quail was another matter.  Mmmm, fried quail.
28.  He made mean biscuits and gravy for breakfast.
29.  He bought us bottle rockets and ‘snakes’ for the 4th of July – back when such things didn’t require signatures or licenses.
30.  He came to all my school plays when I lived in Missouri, though probably becasue Grandma made him.
31.  He was notorious for injuring himself; cut fingers, blackened nails and the like.  He was dangerous with power tools.
32.  He made homemade wine once from grapes he grew.  He liked it, but I’m not so sure anyone agreed with him.  He never made another batch after the fermenting barrel exploded.
33.  He was not a church going man, and had little use for those that were.
34.  He built a play house in his yard, for my cousins.  I was far too old for such things but I was still jealous.
35.  In the spring when the lettuce was up, he’d take me down the row (bare feet in warm soil), break off leaves, rinse them in a bucket and salt them with the shaker in his pocket and give them to me to eat.
36.  He did that with turnips too.
37.  He was a bigot. 
38.  He didn’t believe that.
39.  He used the word ‘nigger’.  It was funny when I was a kid, and made me wince as an adult.
40.  Once, when he worked for Zenith TV, he took a visiting group of Japanese men fishing and was stunned when they built a fire and cooked the fish they caught on hot stones.
41.  They gave him a sake set with sake. 
42.  He never drank it.
43.  He was a picky eater.
44.  He liked football, baseball, and basketball.  He would always wander off during family get-togethers and find a game of some sort on TV.
45.  Tennis was for sissies.  My dad played tennis - probably just to piss grandpa off.
46.  In WWII he was part of a crew that went in ahead of the troops and built runways for the troop carriers to land on.
47.  He sent rubies home to my grandmother from India.
48.  They never made it.
49.  He had sisters.  I’m sure I met them sometime in my life, but I never knew them.
50.  He coerced me into doing this:

51.  He believed in spanking. And he used a shaving strap.
52.  He and my grandmother slept in separate bedrooms for as long as I knew them.
53.  When I stayed over he would get up at four and stoke the fire so I’d be warm.  It made me mad because the noise woke me up.
54.  He took afternoon naps.
55.  He could whittle a chain out of a solid piece of wood.
56.  He smoked for many years, only giving it up after a round of lung problems caused by keeping chickens and breathing the dust they create.
57.  I think he was scared.
58.  He liked to sit in a lawn chair in the garage and watch the world go by.  Or watch TV on the back porch. 
59.  He didn’t have much use for air conditioning.
60.  When my grandmother gave him a cell phone for Christmas a few years ago his first question was “Where’s the off button?”
61.  To our surprise he used it often.  It was the second thing he asked for when he went into the hospital.
62.  The first was a comb.
63.  The third was clean underwear.
64.  He showed me birds nests, and bunny warrens, and newborn calves. 
65.  He taught me the names of trees and plants.  I believe he knew them all.
66.  He grumbled.
67.  He had us help with slaughtering the chickens, but when he cut the heads off them he put them in a feed sack first, so my brother and I couldn’t see.  We were younger than ten.
68.  He always kept a garden. 
69.  He carved heart for me out of walnut and stained it dark brown.
70.  I haven’t thought of it in years but the urge to turn the house upside down and search for it is overwhelmingly strong.
71.  He let me drive his pick-up ... without knowing how well I could drive.
72.  His hands were large and calloused, thick knuckled and stubby fingered.  My dad has his hands.  I have his hands.
73.  He wore ‘trucker’s caps’.
74.  He liked John Wayne movies.
75.  He is in the Missouri Softball Hall of Fame.  His nickname was Lefty. 
76.  The week before he went into the hospital he and a friend painted a fence for a neighbor.  He was not a typical 87 year old.
77.  He was very good to his neighbors and could make friends with just about anyone.
78.  He was very trusting.
79.  He whistled.  All.  The.  Time.  No tune, just a maddening warble that he was blissfully unaware of.
80.  When he moved to Florida I flew to Missouri to drive his pick-up and bass boat back.  My uncle drove the moving van...we flipped a coin as to who got grandpa and his whistle.  I won the toss.  Unc was undone after the first day of driving.  It seems when he wasn’t whistling he was reading the road signs.  Every. Road. Sign. Out. Loud.
81.  I’m sure I learned my first curse word from him.
82.  When he discovered I was into fossils he took me to places where road crews were blasting through rock so I could sift through the rubble for ‘Indian Money’(a fossilized plant stem that looks likes a stack of coins).
83.  He got mad when we forgot to close the barnyard gate and the chickens got into the beans.  We did this often.
84.  He was not always a patient person.
85.  He was a good shot with a rifle.
86.  Whenever he went to see someone he always brought something from the garden or fresh eggs.  If he knew you had a favorite he grew it for you, even if it was something he didn’t like.  Turnip greens for my step-mom, and tomatoes for my aunt.
87.  He was a good man ... but not a saint.
88.  He complained about the price of things ... almost as loudly as he snored.
89.  When a train car full of grain derailed near his house and he gathered it up to feed the chickens, plus a pocketful for me to play with in my plastic tea set.
90.  He had a stuffed quail in his bedroom when I was little.  One day the house cat turned it into a pile of feathers, he hadn’t much use for house cats since.
91.  He cried when, shortly after my grandmother’s death, a dog killed both of her cats.
92.  Her death cracked his heart.
93.  My aunt’s death broke it. 
94.  He was 87 years old.
95.  His death was not unexpected; that does not make it hurt any less.
96.  They turned off the ventilator at 6pm last night.  I knew and was too chicken to go.
97.  He died at 11:30pm, his middle son was with him (I wasn’t the only chicken).
98.  I got the call this morning at 7:00.
99.  The woman, Shannon cried for him on her way to work this morning.
100. The child, Sally Ann, will sob herself to sleep tonight.

Due to some scheduling problems, we didn’t get as much done on the bathroom as we had hoped.  By ‘scheduling problems’ I mean that we didn’t want to seal the floor and curb, and tile the floor prior to my plumber step-brother’s repair of the piping.  The house is plumbed with polybutylene piping, a material that has been balled up in lawsuits for years because of its tendency to leak at the fittings.  I’ve had several leaks in the house but they were all associated with the copper leaders at the valves and not the poly-pipe.  I repaired them to the best of my ability with a compression fitting that clearly stated on the package ‘not for in-wall use’, and they’ve held – some for nearly ten years.  Still, with poly’s reputation, and the dire warning on the fittings I’d rather a pro make it as right as possible (without re-plumbing the whole house) while we have the wall open.

D finished the knee wall, I hung the wall insulation, we installed wallboard where we could and then I set about constructing the curb.  After some discussion the decided on method was to lay two courses of bricks, and then stucco over them.  It took me far longer than it probably should have but we were both pleased with the outcome.  This took us to Saturday afternoon and a natural stopping point to wait for the plumbing to be done.  Certainly there were things we could do; finish the ceiling drywall, remove the toilet, install drywall on the back of the knee wall, remove the wallpaper and prep for the future paint job, etc.  But we were both easily swayed by the lure of other activities and called it quits until ‘J the plumber’ can get by.

D parked himself at the computer and I sat down at the sewing machine.  I was a ‘makin’ fool’ this weekend, completing three journals, two ‘cover-ups’, a tote, and a ‘roll’...most of which I can’t show you yet as they are all ‘promises kept’ (albeit slow promises) and are jetting their way to their new homes as I type.  There is however a straggler, a journal that didn’t make the cut, and that I can share.

It is the latest item that ‘needs a home’ so if it ‘blows your skirt up’ speak up.  It is navy and cream cotton with just a touch of red, and covers a lined journal (readily available from Barnes & Noble).  This one is a considerable improvement over the first round of journals and in my opinion more successful.  Like the little smocks these are a satisfying and quick project, not to mention a great way to consume the stash.  So help me out will ya?  Give this poor little guy a home.  Update:  Donna kindly gave it a home ... thanks Donna.

Ok, maybe this isn’t puppy-kitty cute, but it is ‘awwwwww’ cute.  My step-niece turns three this weekend and I made this little smock so she can start crafting ... hey, its never too early to influence the next generation - heh.  The bias trim is homemade, the process for which was considerably easier than I expected once I got the hang of it.  Though I intended it solely as a ‘cover-up’, how cute would this be with a white turtle neck, and jeans?  You want one for a little friend with a birthday coming up?  Let me know, this was a joy to make!

D and I drove up to Tampa yesterday to have some service done on his car.  The waiting room in the Mini Cooper dealership was full (four chairs fill up fast) so we walked over to the adjoining BMW dealership to have a seat in theirs. Both dealership’s are run by the same owner so there were similarities; same chairs, same tv, but the atmospheres were decidedly different.  BMW was quiet, almost sterile and populated with carefully dressed folks speaking on cell phones or tapping away at lap tops. 

The woman seated nearest to us was clearly agitated that she had to wait.  Every ten minutes or so she would get up, walk a few steps toward the service manager’s office and announce ‘I think they’ve forgotten me’.  Or, she would stand, directly in front of me, hands on hips and stare out across the waiting room sighing loudly.  When I glanced up at her and smiled, she basically ignored me and returned to her chair.  Others seemed a little taken aback to see us comfortably seated in their leather chairs reading paperback books, rather than the high fashion, high dollar magazines artfully arranged on the end tables.

I’ve been thinking of replacing my pickup with a sportier SUV.  Both the BMW and the Lexus were on my list of ones to consider - the Lexus being my first choice ‘cause I like its looks.  But having been in that waiting room, and feeling like ‘poor white trash’ sitting there in my jeans and tennies I’m thinking I’m just not the right caliber of person for that caliber of vehicle.  I was by far more comfortable in the Mini Cooper waiting room, drinking my free pop and watching ‘Superman Returns’.  If it weren’t for being a homeowner and needing to occasionally haul full sheets of drywall and 500 lbs of tile, we’d probably be a two Cooper family.  That, of course, would also be far more likely if there were a dealership closer than two and a half hours away. I wonder if BMW would care that they’ve potentially lost a sale due to their own stuffiness?  Probably not.

* The BMW has the prick on the inside.

These days it’s hard to be nice.  I don’t mean just because I’m a crusty ‘ol broad, I am, but socially speaking, it’s hard to be nice.  A local radio station preformed a not so scientific experiment last week.  The female DJ* ‘stranded’ herself beside the road and waited to see if anyone would come to the rescue.  She was there for over an hour, and she was purposely unattractive ... guess what?  No one stopped.  The next day she did it again but this time dressed as ‘hot’ as she could manage.  The first car stopped in under six minutes, nine cars stopped in total.  All that stopped were married men, and all of them declined to be on the radio for fear their wives would hear.  One of them asked her out.  In my opinion none of them were being ‘nice’, and the radio station was trying to get the DJ killed.

Being nice risks putting yourself in a unsafe position.  I saw “Silence of the Lambs” and I’m that girl ... right down to the broad expanse of creamy white back flesh.  For me the scariest part of that movie was when she stopped to help him with that sofa simply because I would have done the exact same thing, cast or no cast.  I help folks in the Home Depot parking lot all the time, and I’ve offered help only to have it declined with suspicious shake of the head.  The ‘stranger danger’ we have been teaching our children has crept into adult lives.  I’m not necessarily against it, but it is a sad comment on humans as a race.

Some weeks ago Tyra interviewed a woman who had been homeless.  The woman lamented that when she was on the street passers-by would not even meet her eyes and that they no longer treated her as a human.  Then Tyra and the former homeless lady dressed in shabby clothes and went down to skid-row.  One of the instructions the lady gave Tyra was ‘not to meet anyone’s eyes because some of these people are dangerous’.  Um, hello?  It had never occurred to her that people perceived her as possibly dangerous but she had no problem seeing it in the others around her. 

I know how she feels.  There have been several folks that I’ve wanted to send a little something to as appreciation for their fine blogs.  Dan at Chucklehut accepted the offer saying ‘I’d be a fool to expect you to pack up the vanagon and drive out from FL to stalk me - and frankly if you’d really wanted to I think I’ve left enough clues to make finding me pretty easy’**.  Others are a somewhat more leery, and hedged giving an address with ‘no thanks needed’ or ‘perhaps another time’.  It stings a little to be told that, but I understand the creepy factor that goes hand in hand with such a request.  It makes me appreciate those that do accept all the more; they probably still find me slightly creepy but, like Dan, know I’m too far away to do much harm

Dan makes another good point as well; those of us who blog do give away a lot of information.  Anyone could ferret out interesting tidbits that wanted to go searching.  Long time readers know birth dates and other important life events that some may use as passwords.  We share our names, cities and the faces of our children and loved ones all with a blind trust that it really isn’t information that most folks are terribly interested in.  But ‘most folks’ isn’t who we should worry about, it’s the odd handful that view the world differently and operate without the basic morals of the vast majority. 

Sadly, that handful dictates how the majority reacts.  Most of our laws were written for that handful.  It wouldn’t occur to me to rob a bank; ok maybe it would, but I’d never go through with it, not because it’s illegal but because its wrong.  Simple.  But those that see me as a stranger don’t know that and as a basic part of self preservation choose not to assume that I have morals.  I can’t say that I blame them.  Taking that step and offering a nicety to someone is a baring of the throat for both parties and caution is not unwarranted; a sorry, sad truth indeed.

*I know, I know, I should be using the term ‘radio personality’ but DJ is so much easier to type.

**His exact words, in fact.  I kept that email (dated 6/20/05) for his address ... or maybe I am creepy.

Because Rox tagged me and because I heart her here is my response to her 7 Things Meme.  Coming on the heels of my 100 (more) things, this was uber tough!  If you want the directions see Rox’s entry ... I’m not much of a direction follower when it comes to such things.

-I have a scar in the palm of my right hand that I am particularly attached to because the main character in one of my favorite books carries an almost identical mark.

-I chew ice; dreadful habit, but not one I seem willing to break.  I actually get excited if I get a drink with ‘ice pellets’ rather than cubes because they are perfect for chewing.

-I would never have admitted it in school, but I secretly enjoyed doing the research for research papers.

-I like poetry and believe it should be read aloud, with feeling.  Robert Frost is a particular favorite.  I wait until my only audience is furry and four footed to partake.

-I wont put a bumper sticker on my car.  This is a genetic condition that can be traced to my father, who was and still is vehemently opposed to ‘sticking’ anything on a car.  In fact I’ve only ever had one and it was a clear sticker to go on the glass (easily removed).

-I like a magazine called “Gothic Beauty”, both for the photo styling and for my fascination with the clothing.  Of course, its also nice to be able to stare without being caught.  And yes, it gets me odd looks when I’m checking out at Barnes & Noble.

-I inherited from my Grandmother both a copious bosom and the ability to drop food on it.  The worst example of this talent I can think of was rolling a buffalo wing down the full length of a bright yellow shirt ... argh!

Well guys, I must love you lots, ‘cause I’m going to share with you a deep dark secret...my bathroom before photos. Here it is in all its soap scummed glory.

Believe it or not, it really is sorta clean, but it is nearly thirty years old and some wrinkles just don’t clean off. Our main reason for tearing everything out, is this leak ... ugly isn’t it?

Saturday we started demolition, and on the second or third hammer stroke I knew we had a problem. That privacy wall between the shower and the toilet should have been empty, it wasn’t. In fact it contained everything it possibly could; a water line, an electric line (220v no less - ack!) and a vent stack for the shower and toilet drains (right in front of D’s cute little belly)

We also discovered that you can tile over tile. That’s right, the back wall of the shower had two layers of tile, each uglier than the next.

But we kept going and made a big mess, and found that we had another leak in the front corner too.

Then we cleaned up the pile of tile and drywall, using a shovel and D went to work on the floor with an air chisel.

And I hauled bags and bags of trash to the garage. We cleaned the floor up and moved on to the ceiling which we also ripped out.

Yeah, all that insulation is from the attic ... it looked like pink and white snow falling through the air - heh.

All in all it took about five hours, and when we cleaned up one more time before heading off to Home Depot.

We spent more time at Home Depot and Lowes than we did tearing out the bathroom, and by the time we got home we were exhausted!

Sunday’s progress was much slower, and I’ve photos of that too, but what you don’t see is really what’s important in these. Like Saturday we started off with a dilemma. Our first project was to install a new light fixture / exhaust fan combination. As you can barely see from the photo the yellow arrow points out a ceiling truss that travels right through where we wanted to install the fixture (penciled box).

We elected to go to one side of the truss rather than scrap the light & fan. We’ve elected to leave the glass shade off until we are done ... to help avoid breakage.

Its off center, but I expect that only I will know. Then we ran the piping for the exhaust over to the soffit vents, and started moving the obstacles from the soon to be half wall.

And we installed insulation and drywall on the ceiling.

D had hoped we’d be further, but I’m happy, this is just where I figured we’d be by now.  I’m pooped, bruised, cut and sore ... but darn pleased with our progress so far. 

Tomorrow we demolish the shower surround in the master bathroom.  This includes removing a wall (a whole freakin’ wall!), a huge chunk of ceiling, the shower doors, the ‘curb’ that keeps the water in the shower, the shower floor and the walls.  I am at once enthusiastic and mortified.  As ‘do-it-your-selfers’ go we have a fair amount of knowledge, but this exceeds anything we’ve attempted so far.  Tile?  No problem, I laid every tile in the house, except this shower, by myself.  Drywall?  Yep, I’ve done that too.  Shower plumbing? Yep, twice.  Shower doors, wall replacement, soffit removal, curb installation ... um, no. 

Besides the obvious challenge this remodel presents, there is another perhaps bigger one; the relationship challenge.  Choosing the materials last weekend was miserable.  D has one idea, I have another and though we’re both willing to compromise that halfway point is often something neither of us like.  Take the dining table for example.  We searched, and hunted and scoured the countryside for said table.  By the time we found one we could agree on we were so exhausted we didn’t care.  The only bit we agree on now is that we both hate the table.  It’s one thing to hate the color you paint a wall, its another entirely to hate the tile you have all but permanently attached to the walls and floors.

So we’ve chosen a mish-mash of off-white, tans, browns and beiges...booooring, but practical.  The only flair it will have is small, white, tumbled glass tiles peeking out here and there.  I was bucking for green (soooo pretty) but green might dictate the color pallet of the room, and someone looking to buy the house someday might not be hot on green.  We haven’t chosen paint, lighting or towel fixtures yet.  You decide; does the title of this post stand for ‘demolition’ or ‘divorce’ heh heh!

Our office is located in a good sized business park that houses a wide variety of businesses, from spice packing, to bagel making to construction and painting.  Many of the construction businesses provide transportation to their various job sites and because of this there the park has fairly heavy foot traffic of folks going to or from jobs, and folks looking for jobs.  Several times a week someone will wander into our building seeking employment.  Most of these applicants leave with their application and never return, some fill in their name and phone number (usually with the word ‘none’) and a very tiny percentage complete the two page form. 

Yesterday we had an applicant that I recognized as having applied before.  He is an enterprising young man who presents an ‘auto detailing’ business card while filling out his form – just in case we need those services.  He is jovial and friendly, and wears a sleeve cut from a t-shirt on his head. 

The following is taken exactly as written, in large loopy script, on his application.  I have changed nothing but omitted the obvious.  Much of the form has been left blank.  At first it is comical ... then its just sorta sad.

Position of Interest: were house
Date Available: now just call me
College or University: one day I will be going
Other raining or skills: you guys will see that I have a lot a’ them
Is your age under 18: I am olded
Employment history: Sorry but I don’t rember all of them to well you see its been a long time.  I do not rembre were they r now Sorry, but I am redde for work

This morning, with my uncle’s help, I drew the winner for the “100 (more) things...” post prize.  And the winner is: Brad from Almost Lucid! 

When I offered the prize I had no plan for what it might be, other than that I would tailor it to the winner.  Brad’s winning offers an interesting challenge as he is the first guy I’ve sewn for – well, other than costumes for D.  I don’t thing Brad is interested in an Imp costume, but I could be wrong -heh.  I knew when he commented that a sewn object for a guy would be tough, but I figured with a 1 in 7 chance it was more likely I’d be sending something to Australia than to him, so I hadn’t given it much thought .

Masculine sewing isn’t a new challenge for me though.  For the last couple of weeks I’ve been (slowly) working on covered journals for Jae* to give to four couples that participate in wine tasting with her.  I’m happy with the ones I’ve produced so far, but I’m not so sure that they will please the guys.  I’m not a very girly girl, but it is staggering just how much of my stash is floral, or pink, or just wrong for the average guy. 

Most anything sewn that I’ve shown D is responded to with a quick ‘that’s nice’ or ‘you’ve done nice work’, but nothing that would suggest enthusiasm for the actual item.  Most of the craft blogs would seem to support this.  I don’t think I’ve seen anything crafted for a male over 12 years old, with exception of several knitted items.  Knitting it seems is a little more male friendly than sewing; gloves, socks, watch caps ... Brad seems like a watch cap kinda guy, maybe I can bribe a knitter (snigger).  Seriously though, do you craft for your guy, or your guy friends?  And if so, what do you craft?

*If you haven’t seen her Peacock Shawl you should hop right over ... it is positively stunning!

Did you know shower doors could cost $1200?  Well I didn’t.  To say that keeping my jaw off of my chest when the salesman delivered the news took a herculean effort would be an obscene understatement.  Despite my shock, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that they were dang nice shower doors ... though at that price I did think they should be self cleaning.  No, the salesman didn’t think I was funny either.  For now the doors are merely under consideration.  After all, we haven’t been to Home Depot yet; and they get pretty lonely when I haven’t shown up in a week or so.  Seriously.  There are people there who know my name...scary eh? 

Though we both nearly needed resuscitation at Mr Shower Door (yeah, really) we did come away with some very helpful information and if you can afford it I would recommend them on kindness alone.  We also came away with something that is nearly a plan. Our current shower is basically a box with sliding doors and a lower ceiling than the bathroom.  We are going to demolish the entire thing, including the privacy wall and low ceiling.  Then we will install a rubber liner (there isn’t one now, which is part of the problem), and build a half wall where the privacy wall is.  Next, re-tile the floor and walls, install shower doors and a glass panel on the top of the half wall, and replace the shower fixtures.  That is where the budget will scrape bottom so the vanity and mirror will have to wait.  I’m secretly hoping to paint, but don’t tell D. 

I know that my description is hard to visualize but it will have to do for now.  There is no way I’d share a photo without first cleaning and I’m not sure I’ll clean something I’m getting ready to destroy ... but I might.  ‘After’ photos should be much easier to come by.  In any case we may already be in over our heads and we haven’t even started.  I’ll know more Monday after we’ve done some more research, a little sketching and completed a tiling class at a local tile store.  It is going to be another busy weekend.

In more important news, G’pa is improving, though it is a very, very small improvement.  They have turned the respirator down to 40% and anticipate having him off of it by Monday.  They were singing the same tune last Monday so I’m not getting my hopes up too far.  We continue to hold our breath, and my heart freezes in my chest whenever the phone rings at an odd hour.  As it has been all along; only time will tell.  For the record, after all he’s been through in the last month I think he deserves a few more years, don’t you?

And now for something completely frivolous.  I can’t read the directions, I probably can’t duplicate the projects but my gawd, I think I need this book.  How perfect is that little fox?  I really, really wish the library system would start carrying craft books like this ... there are several I’d just like to see.

I haven’t done one of these in a while and figured it was about time.  I didn’t worry about duplicates so if you’ve read my first ‘100 Things’ you might recognize a few.

1.  I love, love, love makeup ... but I do not touch up during the day.  Whatever is left at 5pm has to be good enough.
2.  Along the same lines, I am an absolute sucker for those ‘gift with purchase’ offers from the high end cosmetic counters.  This is one of the reasons I quit going to the mall.
3.  If I find a top or pants that I like I generally buy two.
4.  I broke my arm when I was little by falling out of a hayloft.  To this date it is the only bone I have broken, though I am no less clumsy.
5.  Music is necessary in the car ... so is singing.
6.  I will participate in karoke, on two conditions.  There must be alcohol involved and the song has to be “These Boots Are Made For Walking”, Nancy Sinatra.
7.  I curse like a sailor, and I know how stupid it makes me sound.
8.  I believe chocolate is a food group.
9.  I am jealous of my dog.
10.  I’m not a crying kind of person, but thirty seconds of ‘Homeward Bound’ (or any other sappy movie - or commercial) makes me leak profusely.
11.  In school my worst subjects were spelling and math ... not much has changed.
12.  I have a group of freckles (moles) on my left arm that look just like the constellation Orion.
13.  Bungee jump from a bridge?  Only if the bridge is on fire and my ass is catching.
14.  I think Paris Hilton is a disease to the young people who admire her.
15.  I used to collect certain things, but I’m coming to understand just how unimportant ‘stuff’ really is.
16.  I’m not sure I’ll ever get over ‘collecting’ fabric...I am trying though.
17.  I was wearing flip flops with jeans long before it was fashionable (I’m still not fashionable).
18.  I’m a very light sleeper ... it sucks.
19.  I’m very hard on myself but that does not seem to be catalyst enough to affect change.
20.  I don’t believe I’m talented (sewing/cooking), I just think I follow directions well.
21.  Garnets are my favorite gemstone, but they are not my birth stone.
22.  Two different people at two different times have refused to do a Tarot reading for me ... what color do you think my aura is?
23.  I don’t currently have any celebrity crushes ... but I appreciate a good body when I see one (Ty Diggs anyone?).
24.  I have ‘man hands’.  In fact, there is nothing dainty about me.
25.  I’ve given up on being able to wear dresses and cute shoes.
26.  Forty does not scare me.
27.  Dying does.
28.  I often describe scents as ‘dark’ or ‘light’.  ‘Dark’ ones are generally my favorites.
29.  I was often in trouble at school for talking too much.  My mouth still gets me in trouble.
30.  I cannot fold a fitted sheet.
31.  I wear wide shoes.
32.  I’m not a big fan of snakes or spiders of a certain size.
33.  I’m not easily grossed out.
34.  When it comes to t-shirts or knit tops I prefer v-necks.
35.  My jeans were always too short when I was in school and I was called ‘highwater’.  My jeans are generally too long now.  Not because of my ‘highwater’ moniker but because my legs fall in between regular and petite sizes.  I opt for too long over too short.
36.  I don’t like to run out of certain things, and tend to buy them in bulk.
37.  I crack my knuckles.
38.  I have exactly two positions I can sleep in.
39.  I like to be organized, but once it gets away from me the mess gets pretty big before I set it to rights again.
40.  I get pretty testy with men who assume that I’m just a woman and don’t understand the technical thing they are talking about.
41.  I believe I am the alpha dog in my house, the dog believes it too but I’m not so sure about D.
42.  My ears are pierced – one time in each.
43.  I wish I were ‘greener’, I often just forget to try.
44.  I’m lazy and I know it so I will go to great lengths to maintain that laziness.  For example I knew when I installed a lily pond that I was unlikely to drag out a hose and fill it when needed, so I plumbed a water line from the nearest spigot.  All I have to do to fill the pond is turn on the valve.
45.  I adore the dappled light found under a shade tree.
46.  Halloween is my favorite holiday.
47.  I am absurdly proud of the way I pack things to ship them.
48.  I’m also absurdly proud of the way I pack a moving van, it is my preferred job when helping someone move.
49.  I believe that my only innate talent may be my ability to ‘see’ how things should go together to fit best, without any trial and error.
50.  This also means that I never fell for being told, “Its eight inches long”.
51.  I don’t like to iron things, therefore I wear a lot of knit.
52.  I cant stand it when people use ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’, and yet I am guilty of using ‘alot’ a lot.
53.  When I clean I make boxes and piles of the things that don’t belong in that space.
54.  Sometimes it takes me months to return those object to their rightful places.
55.  I don’t like my nose.
56.  I do like my eyes and lips.
57.  I have fallen out of love with hard cover books.  I find that a little sad.
58.  I drink too much soda.
59.  My pinkie toes lay on their sides and the nails grow practically straight up from the nail bed. 
60.  I scar very easily, and am therefor covered with them.  This is probably why wrinkles don’t bother me over much.
61.  You can always tell when I’ve been reading; I use phrases like ‘over much’.
62.  Credit cards are dangerous things for me.  I can justify almost any purchase as necessary.
63.  When I was a kid I raised monarch butterflies in the house.  Every year they came back to visit.
64.  My first real boyfriend told me I looked good driving a pick-up truck.  I must have taken it to heart because I’ve always liked them, and my first brand new car was the pick-up I’m now driving.
65.  D told me a few weeks ago that he thought I was a better 2-D artist than he was.  I was terribly flattered, but I don’t agree with him.
66.  I’ve only been in the hospital once, I was 9 and had a hernia.  At the time they kept me for a week, nowadays they send you home the same afternoon.
67.  When I stated drinking wine I only liked white zinfandel.  From there I moved to Chardonnay and other white.  These days I’m red zin all the way!
68.  Captain Morgan & Coke is my ‘signature drink’.
69.  I believe in hurricane preparedness.  I have no delusions that the government is going to come and save me.
70.  I’m a worrier.
71.  I want a fish tank; until I remember what a bear they are to clean.
72.  I used to ‘borrow’ kids to go see Disney movies.  Now I just go.
73.  I hate that I have become ‘cold natured’.
74.  When I drive I sit with the seat all the way back and ‘bolt upright’.
75.  I am often not a very patient person.
76.  I can belch really loudly.
77.  I believe there are three kinds of clean: guy clean, girl clean, and company clean.
78.  I am guilty of ‘guy clean’.
79.  I’m addicted to sugar.
80.  I always wanted to be naturally good at something.  I’m still looking for what that might be.
81.  Because of that I know a little about a lot of things.
82.  I was a know-it-all as a child.  I fear that I still come across as one.
83.  I can’t stand know-it-alls.
84.  Where I was born Pepsi was the primary soft-drink, but where I grew up it was Coke.  I prefer Coke.
85.  I was convinced that I would die in an auto accident and didn’t learn to drive ‘till I was 17 years old.
86.  When D buys me flowers he buys his favorite kind.  This irks me.
87.  There are businesses that I dislike so much I will go out of my way to not give them any of my money.  WalMart and Citibank are two.
88.  I have little red ‘freckles’ on my fingertips and my face that are called Telangiectasia.  I don’t like them.
89.  I don’t like people to touch my hair.  When D does this I pant at him like a dog.
90.  I cannot roll my tongue. 
91.  I believe I pay more attention to what’s going on around me than most. Therefor I also believe I’d be a good crime scene investigator ... but then so does everyone that watches CSI.
92.  If a blog lists a ‘100 Things’ link, it’s the first thing I read.
93.  When I type I ‘spell’ the words in my head.
94.  I use my fingers when I do mental math, but not obviously.  I lay them on a table and increase the pressure to each tip as I count.
95.  ‘Measure twice, cut once’ often does not work for me.  Its more like measure nine times and curse anyway.
96.  I wanted to take shop in Jr. High, but girls had to take Home Economics, where we learned to sew.  I hated sewing, and was really, really bad at it.
97.  I was in love with my third grade teacher, and hated the woman who took her place when she left on maternity leave.  My grades at that time reflect this fact very clearly.
98.  I don’t like ‘stretch’ jeans ... give me old fashioned ‘rigid’ denim every time.
99.  I can back a trailer, but only when I can see it over my shoulder.  I cannot do it using only mirrors, my brain simply can’t sort it out.
100.  If you made it to the end you deserve a prize.  So, leave me a comment and I’ll draw a winner at random from those names.

Friday afternoon the lung doc for my grandpa told one of my uncles that we should have a family meeting and decide if g’pa would want to be dependant on the respirator.  This was the first time anyone had even suggested that the respirator was in place for anything other than to let him heal.  We were stunned, but I think we were mostly angry and felt as though we had been misled.  As has been standard the call to his regular doc was not returned – he was off for the weekend.

Oddly, I was pretty peppy Friday night.  I had a new stereo installed in my truck (nothing fancy but it has a direct connection for my iPod) I had a quick dinner out and picked up D at the airport.  I was happy to see him and had aspirations of carving a little ‘us time’ out of the weekend.  By Saturday morning though a funk had descended over me and I took myself to town where I scoured several fabric shops for things to coordinate with the Japanese fabrics* I received last week.  I had lunch at a favorite spot, and took pleasure in a tiny bird that knew exactly what my bread basket was and perched there expectantly.  I went to the tile store, in preparation for the great bath remodel we plan in a few weeks, but was more frustrated than encouraged.  Somewhere on the way home it occurred to me what was going on.  I was hiding.

Had I been home someone could find me with bad news I just didn’t want to hear, and I might have to examine my feelings; much easier to smother them with new toys and good food.  Realizing what I was up to lifted the funk a little, but the overall feeling persisted throughout the weekend.  Even multiple e-mails with Jae, and an online chat with Rox and some quiet time sewing couldn’t lift it entirely. 

Being emotionally bereft isn’t a new thing around here.  My mom would say it is genetic for this side of the family, and she wouldn’t be entirely wrong.  I disagree with her though that it makes us ‘less human’.  I think everyone handles things to the best of their ability.  Doing so differently does not mean someone is doing it wrong.  Still, for me at least, something needs to change.  A distraction is only a distraction, it is not the balm I so badly want.  Admittedly, I haven’t the first clue where to begin or even what should be done.  I’m floundering, and that is perhaps what I find the most unsettling.

*I learned a valuable lesson, the colors of the imported items are stellar, but in no way match those available through local venues ... rendering a rather expensive purchase more frustrating than pleasant. 

D didn’t call last night and I admit that though I had a few visions of tragedies that might have befallen him I mostly just went on with what I was doing, which in this case was having dinner out with friends.  He did call today at lunch.  I know that they are feeding the guys attending the training seminar well (homemade cherry cobbler and such) so my first question was if lunch was wonderful again.  He supposed it was, but said he’d only had some things off of the veggie plate.  I figured they must have served something he didn’t like - he’s as picky as a four year old when it comes to food, but that wasn’t the case.  D went drinking last night; or as he put it: one minute he was at the pizza place and the next he was at the bar.

D is not a drinker, not in any fashion.  Two, maybe three times a year he’ll indulge at a party or special occasion but that’s it.  There are no beers after work, wine with dinner or cocktails at the bar while waiting for a table.  Last night he made a classic, non-drinker mistake.  He mixed his alcohol.  He remembers a ‘peppermint patty’ (a cream based drink), a beer and a shot of tequila.  His companion on the trip remembers an additional two beers and two tequilas ... my stomach is rolling just thinking about it. 

After more discussion he admitted that he was in a titty bar.  That is funny for so many reasons including that we discussed it prior to his trip.  I suggested he get some singles so he could tip the sky-cap and hotel driver (D rarely carries cash) and I ribbed him because he took about fifteen – too many for the sky cap and too few for a titty bar.  We also (ok it was just me) entertained ourselves by making up names for adult establishments in Peoria – most were too bawdy to share here.  For the record his visiting such a place does not bother me, but there is no way I could pass up an opportunity to roast him just a little.  However I was unable to do that because he does not remember most of the visit, except of course the part where the security guy tapped him to say ‘No sleeping in the bar’.  Hahahahahahahah.