Big Finish!

Penny-A-Page is winding down for me but only in terms of days—not in terms of effort! Because I started my three months before the other participants, I am about to begin my “last-hurrah-big-push-for-the-finish.” However, I admit that I have reached a delusional state of desperation, knowing the wisest/safest way to proceed and choosing the opposite strategy. I can’t explain why I’m choosing the least likely route to my goal, but I’m happy to share the route and hopefully spread the giddy delusional excitement I feel! I took a good look at what I have accomplished and what my present effort might net me. I discovered that if I can finish all three books I’m currently reading, I will be 130 pages short of the $30 mark. Of course, I realize that 600 pages stand between me and being 130 pages short of $30, but it’s still so tantalizing. I’ve made a plan.
Step One: Finish all three books I’m reading.
Step Two is where I lose all reason. Of course, the smartest thing to do, should I actually get within 130 pages of $30, is to find an interesting 130-page book to read. In every sense, a “quick” read. If I finish the 130-page book, I should proceed by reading more short, interesting books, because, as we all know, you get NO credit for the number of pages you read from a book you did not finish. It’s like the “safe” amounts of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire—(I don’t know exactly what they are) once you reach $16,000, you are guaranteed $16,000, even if you don’t make it to the next guaranteed amount: $25,000; therefore, you die at $20,000, you only get $16,000, etc. So, my curious Step Two is to read a work of non-fiction. Bad choice, I know it! It also happens to be 916 pages long. Ha ha!
This has made me think of the time I rented that truck a couple months ago while my car was at the dealership. The rental guy attempted to get me to pay an additional $20 for extra insurance so that they would not “go after” my insurance company for little things—such as a mark left from a car door being opened too close to my vehicle in a parking lot. What a scam! I told him I did NOT want the special $20-worth of extra insurance, and he completely shocked me by replying, “Ah, you’re a risk taker.” Excuse me? I do NOT consider myself a risk taker generally—certainly not when it comes to driving. What did this mean? Was he already intent on “going after” my insurance because I was unwilling to pay the extra $20? Was the "risk" of having my insurance "gone after" bigger than I had judged it to be when I considered the likelihood of parking lot knicks? I was so confused, my eyes darting everywhere but at the salesperson as I recalculated. I was offended by his comment and felt so badgered and manipulated about what I thoroughly and increasingly felt was a scam that I stood my ground and would not consider paying. But now, judging from the way I hope to finish Penny-A-Page, I realize that, yes, I AM a risk taker. A BIG risk taker. Next time a rental guy takes me for one, I’ll remember Penny-A-Page, for one thing, and I will stare straight at the sales person unflinchingly [in the words of a civil war soldier] "with eyes that would stare the devil out of countenance."

It down't mattr if yoor blak or wite

I knew nothing of Chick-fil-A before moving to Atlanta. B, however, is a big fan. He would save his lunch money for weeks in order to buy a Chick-fil-A sandwich. He has us eat there every chance he gets. “I don’t know what I do for dinner tonight.” “Chick-fil-A!” Sadly, I remain a bit disappointed with the coveted sandwich. It’s nothing but a bun and some chicken. No sauce and no toppings other than two slices of pickles. The fries (which are normally my favorite food at any fast food restaurant) are waffle fries—also a disappointment. But we probably frequent Chick-fil-A more than any other fast food establishment and I find myself requesting it on occasion all because of the handspun milkshakes. Best milkshakes bar none. In November when T came to visit, B knew he had an opportunity to get a trip to Chick-fil-A out of the arrangement. After all, if I had never visited one growing up, she probably hadn’t either. His ardor for Chick-fil-A made an impression on T and prompted her to notify me Friday morning that it was “Cow Appreciashun Day”—dress up like a cow and get a free meal! “You guys should totally do it!” B was at home sleeping, but I knew I didn’t need to call and run it by him—he’d never turn down Chick-fil-A, free or otherwise. So, after studying pictures of cows on the Chick-fil-A website, I mentally made an inventory of our cow costume elements and costume-making materials, ceasing my research and reflection only after I was satisfied that I could produce something passable. We both have white pants, white shirts, and black shoes. We have some black fabric from my Phantom of the Opera costume which could be cut into all sorts of shapes and sizes to make “spots,” which, according to my observations, are not circles and often are not even round-ish. Black socks on hands for “hoofs” and bells (courtesy of nusery) would make a nice touch (though in the end we forgot to use both). B was predictably excited about this idea when I got home but balked at my traditional cow interpretation. He wanted to be a black cow with white spots. I said, “ARE cows black with white spots?” To which he replied, “The zebras have been arguing about this for years.” Whatever. He can be in charge of creating a costume he thinks will get him a free meal and feels [most] comfortable wearing. He put on black pants, shirt, shoes, and baseball cap (which I thought was a great touch). Then he proceeded to cut perfect circles of all sizes out of white paper. Clearly he had not ever noticed the shapes of cow spots. I thought he looked more like a clown than a cow, but maybe this is what cows look like in his mind. Once he was covered in dots (head to toe, literally), the effect was truly stunning. He looked great—not like a cow, but really very cool. He told me I looked “good”—and by good I’m sure I did not look “good” but rather “authentic.” We then walked two blocks down Atlanta’s main street to our nearest Chick-fil-A. They gave us our choice of meals without any hassle, though the assistant manager mentioned that he had never seen a cow (or cow appreciator) who looked like B. On seeing his pictures the next day, B remarked, a bit surprised, “I don’t look anything LIKE a cow!” The Chick-fil-A marketing department would have been proud though, not only because they got free advertising as we walked to and from the restaurant at Brett’s urging, but because he came up with his own parting slogan (which I figured he had read off one of their clever signs in the restaurant): "Past-u[re] later, you graze-y kids!" All in all it was a great occasion. We will celebrate again in 2009.

Luigi's Legacy

When we moved to Atlanta, we had little furniture. In the months before my arrival, B had acquired a bed (from a garage sale), a desk (from Craigslist), and a bookshelf (which was really supposed to be a bar and had been abandoned in B’s backyard; he dragged the rotting thing inside and dried it out). During my unemployed months, I scoured the Craigslist ads for Atlanta. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of posts daily in the furniture section alone. There are also thousands, perhaps millions, of people looking, so you have to be very quick. After a month of searching, I had the good fortune of being the second person to look at a table and set of chairs. They weren’t great, but they were cheap. I bought them. The next day I was quick enough to get to someone’s house in time to buy his VCR and DVD player ($15). Unlike the table seller, this person was a man, so I took B with me. Although the seller posted pictures of several “for sale items,” nothing besides the VCR and DVD player caught my eye in the ad. However, when we walked in and saw the couch, B loved it. I liked it better in real life than in the photo online. It was small (I am not a fan of the oversized furniture look), and although it was primarily a dark solid color, it had many tiny different colors throughout. B was clearly taken with the couch, so I played the part of the hard sale. “How much for the couch?” “$20?” Whoa! Evidently the seller had limited knowledge of the current going-rate for couches on Atlanta’s Craigslist. “We’ll take it!” The man then offered us his table and chairs, which B really liked. (“Um…Honey, we HAVE a table and chairs…since yesterday…”) How much? $80. We got it (and resold the table I bought within hours of posting it right back on Craigslist). Would you like a coffee table? Well, again, B would. How much? $15. Now the seller, who’s name happened to be Luigi, was getting excited. It looked like we would buy anything. He started offering things he had not posted online and clearly had not been planning to sell that day. He brought us in his room. Would you like this desk? We already had a desk—not that that fact prevented the purchase of a second table and set of chairs—but this desk happened to be the exact same desk model that B already bought off Craigslist (for a better price than Luigi purchased his [also on Craigslist]; they compared prices), so he was content to keep the one we had at home rather than acquire a second [identical] desk. And then, Luigi offered a piece of furniture I was not willing to refuse. Hidden in his closet, covered with clothes was a dresser! Low, wide, 7-drawers, painted unevenly in yellow, with color-crayon scribbled on the side of it! “How much?” I asked calmly, wishing "Please let it be only $50, I don’t want to pay more…but I will." “$20?” came the uncertain reply. “I’LL TAKE IT!” Luigi emptied his clothes from the drawers—half of which needed replacement runners. And thus “the dresser” came into our lives, along with our couch and table and chairs and VCR and DVD player and coffee table and tickets to the Braves game that afternoon, all delivered to us by Luigi himself for a grand total of $185, including delivery! Upon hearing our good fortune, T scolded, “You took advantage of Luigi!”
The purchase of the dresser was entirely my doing. B never liked it. He blamed it on the color. The color hadn’t bothered me at all because from the start I could see what the dresser could become! I had vision! Six months later it was time to start the reconstruction. I purchased an orbital sander for Thanksgiving and began months of sanding. Finding the correct runners took longer than anticipated as well. No chain stores carried the kind I needed, so I used my time at work to search the internet. B reviewed trigonometry with me so that I could figure out how to do some structural repairs. He was an excellent consultant and hard laborer, never forgetting that this was my project. I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) have finished this without him. So, Thanksgiving marked the beginning of the project. Sanding concluded in April, structural repairs were completed in May. Staining happened in June…and July. I stained the drawers one night. Lots of stain. So thick it took days to dry and was red and shiny. I didn’t like it. So, when B came home on the weekends, he sanded it all off! I told him what I had witnessed while staining. I had realized after the first five drawers, that I did not like the look, so I tried a different technique with the last two. All of the drawers needed to be re-sanded and re-stained, but this time I had a better idea of what I wanted and maybe how to get it. B attempted the re-stain on the dresser base and it turned out fabulously! We did the drawers, and I think it’s the most beautiful dresser ever! It’s NOT at all what I had in mind when I started, but I like what we ended up doing (getting?) even more! I describe it as “rustic.” It is not shiny, and I love how each drawer and each knob is unique! In my eyes it looks old and unique. The thing is, we don’t know what it really looks like, that is, to people who are not invested in it. It is very possible that the same thing we call “rustic” would prompt a visitor to remark, “Have you ever thought of re-staining this?”
If you are interested in this project, I am attaching photos of some of the stages. We have no good “before” picture. All I could do was throw in a photo of me opening Christmas presents back on December 16 (our American Christmas morning). The dresser is behind me. The top row of drawers can be seen in their uneven yellow brilliance; the middle drawers are missing (they were being sanded at the time); the bottom drawers have been sanded. It’s hard to know whether with flash or without is more true to life. I don’t think either one is an accurate representation. The picture at the top of this post is "with flash." The color around the outside of the dresser is probably the best representation I could get with my camera at night. But the center of the dresser is so washed out by the flash... You get the idea though. I estimate that the entire project cost $110 ($20 to Luigi, and then the rest at HD, Rockler’s, and ACE [truly, the helpful place]). The real money sucker was the new drawer runners; they were about half the total cost. (The cost of the sander is not included in the total project cost, because it was an “investment.”) Also, had I stained the drawers to my liking the first time around, we would have saved about $10. The total time commitment was seven months. I worked on the dresser every month, but not every week. It seemed like I was always working on it because various drawers were lined up in the living room and their contents has been on our floor for months. I recommend doing a project like this with a little more space and, more importantly, with a little outdoor space (like a garage or driveway or yard…or, in our case, an…alley?). I will certainly try this project again (I’d like to do our bed!), but the longer the project drew on, the better the bed began to look. No more sanding this year. I already have a new project that I can't wait to start! B laughs and rolls his eyes. He has already declared I'm on my own with this one. It will likely take years! The good news is that it will not take over the house! Look for an update in the far, far future!

http://picasaweb.google.com/lyndseyandbrett/Dresser

Viva

I've just learned how to put photo collections on my blog without forcing everyone to look at the pictures! Click on the link if you want to see photos of our Navidad in Mexico last year. I grabbed an assortment of photos--not all the photos we have and not necessarily the best ones! The captions simply state the name of the place, so that if a reader sees a place he or she MUST visit before death, the planning process will be easier!

http://picasaweb.google.com/lyndseyandbrett/Navidad2007

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

A couple weeks ago, I pulled into the parking lot at work and saw that although I was not early, there were almost NO cars in the lot yet. I gleefully parked in the best parking spot I’ve scored in the nine months I’ve been working here. Then, the very next day, I found an even BETTER spot—the BEST spot of the lot, in fact—first row, dead center with the building’s front doors. The only people who could park closer would be parking in the “visitor” spaces. How exciting! It only took nine months for me to get a turn in the best spot in the lot! But in the days since I’ve wondered why it is that for nine months the best spot I could get was fairly constant and now I can occasionally get one row closer—the front row. I attributed the vacancy to people being on vacation or being lazy or having to deal with children on summer break slowing down the morning routine. Then, one day I went to lunch with a coworker. When we came back to the office she drove in a different way and proceeded to park UNDER the parking deck. Apparently there are two floors of parking underneath the deck that I park on. You’d think this would be noticeable, but it’s really not. Georgia has no hills to speak of, but the ground is constantly changing elevation by 1-40 feet. Add that to the all the trees and vines that cover everything and are 60 feet high—seriously, they are so thick they provide excellent screens everywhere you go and you can never see very far (or recognize where you are). When I walk out of my building I could swear I was in Costa Rica. It’s understandable that I didn’t know we had a deck that went two floors below the first floor of the building (but not underneath the building; we’re on a “hill”). People are parking downstairs because it’s so hot. I guess that makes more sense than that hundreds of people had just stopped reporting to work all at once. I’m parking up top though.