She's a Brick House

Our house is in the process of getting brick. Yes, the siding is still yellow, but as there are now several houses around us under construction, I can now reports that the yellow is perfectly natural and will turn beige with time...and paint.

It seems that the mess has to get worse before it gets better.

Again with the mess.

Nothing has changed in back, but you can see the brick layers hard at work. They are almost completely done with that side of the house.

We weren't going to go inside, but seeing the drywall in the garage made us curious about the interior.

This is the dining room as seen from outside the window. The insulation and drywall are installed and you can see the arches to the entry and to the kitchen.

Here is a close-up of the brick for your viewing pleasure. You can see much more of the detail in the coloring.

The view to the living room is more obscured now that the bar is sheathed. I can't wait until there is cabinetry.

From the dining room looking out. I like the double windows. I also did not expect them.

Kevin surreptitiously snagged this shot of a man on stilts.

Entryway looking up. There will eventually be a chandelier hanging there. It will not be one of the light fixtures that I replace. I don't do well on step ladders; I'd hate to see what sort of wreck I'd be if I had to climb twenty feet up.

This is one of two windows in the master bedroom. The point of the shot, I think, was to show the ceilings. I enjoyed seeing how every edge of the ceilings were reinforced with little metal strips. You can see it in the dining room arches.

Our shower.

And bath. These were installed last time, but so full of dirty water that I decided against posting the pictures.

Our counters will go here. And I plan to change the mirror, lights and faucets, so this is the before-before picture. We didn't go upstairs during this trip, because we felt in the way.

House Update

This is our house as of today! Hopefully the siding and trim colors are not the permanent ones, or else we selected them under the influence of psychedelic drugs that made one believe that yellow and mud brown would look good on a house. But check out the bay window!

Here you can see the front, with the windows all in place.

There's our brick! It is quite lovely. There wasn't a single house in the very large development with this brick, so we drove up North quite a ways to see it on some walls. We both loved it. I hope it looks good with yellow siding.

We also have shingles on our roof now, not to mention a chimney. This picture, and those taken previously from this same angle, were taken from the back corner of our yard. This with the next picture should show you how big our back yard is.

There will be a patio outside the back door, but it looks like it will be a step down to the actual yard. The builders will put in the sprinkler system and sod. A couple trees, too, but maybe just in front.

This completes our 360* view of the house. This is the side where I plan to put the garden. Of course, I know nothing about gardening, so that may change.

Our garage. There is a lot of storage room in it.

For those of you not keeping up, this is the front door.

Just inside the door, this is the entryway looking up to the second floor. There's a shot coming later looking down from above.

This is me in the dining room. We won't be using it as a formal dining room for some time. Right now, we have just us and our table is small enough to fit in the breakfast nook. Plus, the nook will be tiled, whereas the dining room will be carpeted. No reason to have little food-throwers in there. My current plan is to close off the two doors with baby gates and use it as a play room, when that becomes necessary.

This is the view from the dining room back toward the back of the house. First is the cabinet-less kitchen, then the nook, and then the living room. You can even see the fireplace! Isn't it lovely?

Here is the living room again. I'm definitely glad that I went with the fireplace option. It doesn't take up too much space and I think it adds some romance to the room. We are currently planning to line that far wall with book shelves.

This is the view from the living room. The fireplace is directly behind. The master bedroom is the room to the left. The utility room is on the other side of the stairs, and the door off the hall leading back toward the front door is the door to the powder bath.

Up the stairs to the two-story entryway.

Here is a view of under the stairs from the utility room. I plan to knock out the drywall here, cover with a cupboard door and have some extra storage space. I understand that when my kids go missing I will have to look there for them.

Looking down from above the entryway.

Our view from the bay window. We are on the edge of a developed neighborhood. So while we are the first on our block, we will still have many neighbors into whose backyards we can look at will.

Birthday Pancakes

The Night of the Ballet

Today

Two Weeks Ago

In-Law Friendly

There are very few of you who are invited to read my blog. Basically college friends and siblings. Mom keeps wanting to read it, and I'm fairly certain Jon does. The second one is fine with me. The first is not. Nor would I ever want my in-laws or random facebook friends to scroll through my archives. Since I plan on quitting facebook tomorrow (or once I get around to it) I want to have a blog up and running for the general masses. I have it built but not populated.

audreymichalchristensen.blogspot.com

I am going to post some entries from my archives. Any suggestions?

FYI, I will continue to post anything emotional on this site. Therefore, if you are invited to read that, continue reading here. If you are not, please move on to the other blog.

Hair of the Dog

I know caffeine affects me. I know that it makes my nightmares ten times worse. And I know that Dr. Pepper tastes freakin' fantastic. So when my friends were over, popping open cans, I reflected on what I knew, and then I took a can.

I was wired until midnight, and then my dreams were vivid and brutal reenactments of Game of Thrones, et al., which I haven't read since 2003. When I woke, my eyes were bright red and my entire body cried out for more sleep.

"The caffeine was a bad idea," I mumbled to Kevin, several times.

"To be fair, you knew that going into it," he said.

And if I hadn't, he had reminded me. So that was his way of saying, I told you so.

I just groaned. I knew it was my own fault, but I also knew that I had to get through the day ahead. So I grabbed another Dr. Pepper on my way out the door. No cure like the hair of the dog that bit you.

Who Is John Galt?

what he said

Spam

I got a spam comment today:

"Finally, an issue I'm passionate about. I have been searching the internet for hours looking for information of this caliber..."

They posted this on Post-Extraction Beauty.

I'm so glad my puffy face inspired passion in someone!

Before

Construction begins on our home on Monday. So today we drove out to the site to take Before pictures of our lot.

Post-Extraction Beauty

Saving Time in a Bottle

Until our vacation in July, I cannot take any time off work. As long as I hit 39 hours each week, I will accrue enough paid time off to take a week for California. And after that, another six months of saving time so I can take a week to Illinois for Christmas. With that end in sight, I have worked my time despite dentist appointments, an oil change, surgery, and now a cough. I am a miser, counting and recounting my hours in lieu of gold coins.

When Heather gets married in May, I will take a day off, but only after working 39 hours over a four-day period. By the time July 2 comes, I will have 45 hours of vacation at my disposal...unless something goes wrong and I am forced to use any of that extra 13 hours over the next 3 months. It is against those unforeseen emergencies that I am saving now. I am coughing at my desk against the day that I can't get to work for being too sick.

Besides, I will only have 4 hours with which to play this fall. If I lose 4 hours, I lose my Christmas vacation. Again. So that blessed 13-hour safety net will be a source of comfort during football season too. It's a stressful way to operate, but I do at least get a few paid holidays along the way. And let's not forget that I get every Saturday off this fall. Every single one. That's almost as good as a vacation.

Christianity Fail

The lesson this Sunday was on the Good Samaritan. Then I drove home past a very old man shuffling along with a large load of groceries. And I didn't stop. I will be ashamed of this for the rest of my life. And in the next, I will beg his pardon.

One Year

I have struggled to sum up a year of marriage, to write any ode to my first year with my husband. Dickens beat me to the words, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," so I am left empty handed.

Trials:
dealing with depression
being accountable to someone else for my use of time and money
moving twice
realizing after the wedding that I no longer had a plan or a specific goal
Kevin's month-long absence
feelings of inadequacy

Blessings:
our cruise
shared love for budgeting, macaroni and cheese, and Castle
attending the temple almost every month
establishing habits of daily scripture reading and prayer together
spending evenings with my best friend

The most difficult and rewarding part of the past year has been the ongoing undertaking of learning to communicate more sincerely and openly. Turns out, it's hard to do.

March

In March, I changed my Focus and Project goals from what I had originally planned in January. I had planned to focus on my sabbath observance, and my project was to schedule appointments I had been putting off, such as my oil change and dental exam. The appointments took care of themselves and, since I had begun working on sabbath observance in February, I decided to add a new focus and project: prayer and housekeeping, respectively.

A week from the end of the month, my grade came to 43%. I was failing in my time management despite having worked productively and conscientiously all month. So what had I done with my time? Well, I had been focusing on keeping the sabbath holy, and during my project time I had been learning to sew. So what did I do? I changed my goals retroactively. Kevin calls it cheating. I say I was merely reverting to my original January plan. At any rate, my grade jumped from a 43% to a 63%.

I was so motivated by my instant success that I went through my spread sheet and randomly changed numbers to see what of all I could do in the next week would raise my grade the most. I focused my time accordingly. For the first time in too long I completed my visiting teaching in entirety. I was looking at a good solid 79%, and I was pleased. Then, by some crazy twist of fate, I spent seven and a half hours writing, six of which came in one day. Those hours and other last minute meeting of goals brought me up five percentage points to a nice solid B.

One thing I learned was that Housekeeping is too vague of a goal for a project. I put my photos in an album in January. February and April, I scheduled for canning food storage. These are measurable, completable goals from which I could step back and say, I finished. I need to remember to be thus specific with future goals.

Freakout

A phone call with Joyce two weeks ago sent me spiraling into total freak out mode. Sharing a labor horror story, Joyce describe the sound of an episiotomy. I decided I would not, could not go through that.

I can't do it! I wept to Kevin. I can't go through that!

Well, we can adopt.

That just opened up a flood gate of insecurities. It wasn't pregnancy and labor alone that I couldn't handle. It was kids.

I'm not fun. Heather thought to do moose hands, but I would never have thought to do moose hands. And I'll go crazy when they repeat the same thing over and over. I'll have no time to myself. I'll never write again. What if our kids get bullied. Or do drugs? I can't be responsible for a person.

Kevin sat there comforting me, until I finally reached breaking point and went to bed.

I told Joyce the next day that she had broken me. She comforted me by saying that if she had it to do all over, she would. Then she addressed specific concerns of mine, alleviating them one by one.

But, she said, I can't help you with the body image one. You will feel fat and ugly the whole time you are pregnant. Sorry.

But since that is pretty much old hat for me, I figure it might not be so bad after all.

What I Can't Stand

I am bugged by people telling me I am not a Christian. Or that because I follow a living prophet, that I am not following the bible. And especially by those who claim to be Christians persecuting me because of my different beliefs. I often feel like Gandhi: "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." Not that I am a good Christian, myself, which fact bugs me just as much.

I am annoyed at claims that using "Me" as a subject has become acceptable in speech. "Me" is an object. It is always an object. I have proven that I will argue even with one of my best friends about this to the point of rudeness. Yes, I always use "I" as the subject of my sentences. No, I am not some expert at a trivial point of academia; I simply speak correctly. And I expect everyone to meet my standards. You don't have to use subjunctive or speculative conditional forms of verbs correctly (were I to require this, it would require that I go without friends) but for the love of Noam Chomsky, use pronouns correctly!

And my latest peeve. Unless you are a theologian discussing cosmic forces, never use this sentence: "Everything will work out the way it's supposed to." In the exception I mentioned, I find this sentence acceptable, because I believe that Good will triumph over Evil on the grand scheme. However, for anyone who believes in free will to assert this on anything but a cosmic level is asinine. There is either free will or a perfectly controlled fate with scripted endings. Not both. I am perfectly able to screw up royally, thank you. To say that everything works out the way it is meant to, means that all the pain and evil inflicted on others was supposed to happen. And it wasn't. It is part of God's plan only insofar that man's agency is part of his plan, but the actual painful consequences of man's evil use of agency is not predetermined by God. That sentence is an adage meant to comfort those who don't want to worry about potential consequences.

February in Review

I know. I am posting my February review at the end of March. That is a reflection on March, not February.

To start, I did immensely better in February than January when it came to watching T.V. I did this by instigating one little change. I blocked Netflix. I could still watch Hulu, I could watch DVDs and I could watch Netflix with Kevin on his computer. But, I could not watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer after work. I watched an average of 2 hours of T.V. a week. Including movies.

I managed to keep my scripture reading habit, missing only 4 days in the month of February. I did not remember to write in my journal even once, but I blogged the same amount as in January. I also fully dedicated two Wednesday evenings to writing, free of distractions. I even did half of my visiting teaching. I am terrible at visiting teaching.

Fitness was my focus for the month, and I met half of my monthly workout goals. I worked out three times with Audrei and 4 times after work by myself. I can now touch my toes (after lots of stretching) and I made it through half of one workout from the 30-Day Shred before I gave up and decided to read something instead.

What saved my grade, given my less than ideal dedication to fitness, was my project for the month. I bought 44 #10 cans and canned half of my food storage. It was a time-intensive project and resulted in much spilled powdered milk. But I got it done.

In the end, I broke even with last month, barely squeaking by with a B-.

House Update

Here's the update on the house. We have entered into contract with the builder, but we won't close until 30 days before completion. Construction starts on May 9th, and they anticipate being done by July. So we anticipate August.

Then, I will swoop in with my new skills learned from watching Home Depot do-it-yourself videos, and I will finish things off. Besides just custom painting our home, we will also replace the doors, put in crown moulding, replace some light fixtures and faucets, put in fans and a garage door opener, install faux wood blinds and arrange storage solutions.

The only downside is that I have to wait until August.

Diet

My diet, along with most of my resolutions of late, went crashing right out the window after a brief but brilliant flare.

The diet did not go quietly. It went out with a wail of emotional anguish. In fact, that's what killed it. See, I have been controlling my mood with carefully balanced meals. And then I thought I would take a few weeks off and crash diet to lose weight. Bad idea. I went through two weeks of weak sobbing, and then I reinstituted my whole egg each morning. I was either suffering from inadequate B-12 or from low-self esteem as a result of telling myself every meal "Don't eat that, you fatty."

At any rate, I am better now. I lost only five pounds, instead of fifteen, but it'll do.

Glee

My favorite thing about Glee of late has been the absolute disregard by the writers of previous episodes. Plot has never been the strong point for the show. It is merely a second-class element, the catalyst for the next musical number. I watch it for the stellar singing and dancing. But now, the overly dramatic plot has become somewhat ridiculous. The writers don't even try for any cohesion to previous episodes. Each new hour is a chance to recreate their universe. And they imbue their characters with the same memory bias.

Finn cheating on Quinn with Rachel is completely forgotten, as is the fact that he loved Rachel right up until Quinn kissed him again a year later, when he thinks, "Maybe that's why I never got things going with Rachel-I was still hung up on Quinn." What does he mean, he never got things going with her?

Rachel infiltrated the celibacy club to get close to Finn and then stormed out again after a rant about abstinence not working for teens. Now, she is in celibacy club, the lone voice of abstinence. At least she has been consistent in wanting Finn, even if she'll date others along the way.

Quinn's back and forth between Puck and Finn becomes a back and forth between Sam and Finn. But not before she swears off men altogether after getting pregnant. When did that cease to affect her? Quinn doesn't think she is brave enough to leave the Cheerios, despite having done so the year before.

Puck starts out as the bad boy who sleeps around. But with Quinn, it was different. "This isn't just another score." He admits to loving her after she gives birth. But none of that has been acknowledged this season. He's back to the man whore who's looking to grow.

Mr. Schue is in love with Emma, so much so that he makes out with another woman. Sue constantly finds pity for Glee, and then determines again to destroy them.

Somehow each new plot device comes at the expense of those previous. It's becoming a joke, no matter how well they sing about it.

Dislike

I want to quit Facebook. I have wanted this for quite a while. Yet, I always get talked out of it by friends or myself. How else will I stay connected? That is the biggest argument, and a rather valid one, but I feel that I am staying connected at the cost of my freedom. Freedom to choose. Freedom from addiction and wasted time. Freedom of privacy. Freedom not to “friend” (friend is NOT A VERB!) every passing acquaintance who wants to read what I am expressing to my real Friends.

Facebook is a waste of my time. I open it constantly to see if I have updates. It is the only on-line connection Kevin and I have during the day, as he cannot access hotmail or gmail. This is no excuse for us. We both have phones. And work emails. And what happens when I stay home: am I going to be tied to my computer all day long in case he emails? No. This cannot be a reason to stay on Facebook.

I already know that my children will not be allowed to be on Facebook, or whatever equivalent is around then. I don’t care what they say, not everyone is using it. They are not using it. Maybe Kevin doesn’t share my antipathy toward digital, but if he thinks annual Zoo Days away from school will hurt our kids’ educations, then he will side with me against the evils of Facebook distractions. I cannot monitor whom my kids will “friend” or who else will be watching them. The Internet is a tool. It can be used for good and for bad, and my kids will not get that, because kids don’t. They also will think they are missing out, the same as they will when I don’t let them watch whatever the cool shows are. When they are older, they will realize they don’t care about missing that year’s equivalent of Grey’s Anatomy, and they will perhaps be grateful that I spared them high school girls high on Internet disinhibition.

Not only do evils result as externalities to Facebook use, but the network itself does some pretty shady things, more and more openly so, just showing their contempt for the threat to unplug from their users. I feel like my privacy is threatened in a distinctly dystopian-like manner. For the love of Mark Zuckerber, other websites I go to know who I am because of my account. If I “like” (okay, real verb this time) anything on that site, Facebook posts it to my wall for my contacts to see and discuss. Facebook sells personal information. They make it intentionally hard to quit. That last one alone drives my desire to leave. It’s a freaking cult telling me I can leave any time that I want to, while their thugs block the door and refuse to let me call my parents. It’s dodgy. They’re pushers.

But.

My husband is on Facebook. This next part is going to sound paranoid and desperate, but I assure you that I am coming at this with no feelings of fear. One in five couples divorced in America in the last year cited Facebook in some way as the cause of the divorce. The combination of anonymity and rosy retrospection, not to mention photoshop, leads to indiscreet reconnections with exes, while disinhibition allows flirting that would never go on in person. I do not think that if I am not on Facebook Kevin will hook up with his exes or flirt with women who "like" his comments. I'm just saying, in real non-digital life, there are things that you don't do, not because they are wrong, but because they are stupid: they remove internal and external barriers, lower defenses and invite mistakes. Like drinking alone with a buddy of the opposite sex.

Other friends of mine are on Facebook, as well as my siblings. And like my husband, they are funny and interesting, and I don't want to miss out on what they are saying. I want to hear the updates and see the pictures they are posting. I want to know what happened to my high school friends and the teachers who inspired me. And Facebook is the tool to doing all of that.

But the problem is that Facebook doesn't feel like a tool. It feels like a trap.

Bribes

It all began with Andrea plopping down in her chair behind me and asking, "How would you
feel about not working a game day this fall."

"Sure! Which one?"

"No, I mean, how would you feel about not working any game days this fall?"

How would I feel? Is now a bad time to mention that I have plotted waiting until two weeks before football season begins to give my notice, willing to reconsider only on this very stipulation? Granted, it would have been a gamble. I am not looking to quit for real just yet, but I have honestly doubted my abilities to make it through another football season, despite my life plan and budget.

"What's the catch?"

"That you commit to work through football season."

...

"We are bribing you not to quit."

...

"We can't do without you."

And there it was. More than an acknowledgement of good work, more than gratitude. Begging. Negotiations. Bribes.

Kevin and I made a plan that included me working through this coming December. As I get paid better and have better benefits where I am than anywhere else I could find, I will be staying with my current company. I have it in the budget. The fuzzier end of that plan is when I will be quitting. Sometime around a year from now, I think. Unless I can't get Christmas off again, because then I will be giving my notice two weeks before Christmas. I am going to Illinois this year. I have given my word.

Anywho, I have made many plans in my head for negotiating a better situation, all of which negotiations involve my threatening to quit. I know they need me, and I had day dreamed about telling them so.

Turns out, they already knew it. Kris has heard that Kevin and I are looking at houses further North. She has heard the interns ask me when I plan to have a baby. And then she was denied her request to hire a new buyer. That leaves her doing two people's work for over an entire year. The one concession she was given was that she could hire "another Audrey," to supply the defunct department with some stable employee, as opposed to the intern it had last fall. Kris responded that an assistant doesn't do her any good if he/she is not as well-trained as Audrey. That's where the bribes come in. They need me. Desperately. If I quit, there are two people to run the entire show, with no time to train anyone. Kris can't help our department if she is running another. So, they need me to stay. They want a commitment. They want me to stay through football season to train and oversee the "other Audrey." Even better, if I would give them enough notice of when I choose to leave so that I can also train my replacement.

There’s a raise in it for me, as well as the game days off. I even made the offer of staying an entire year if I can be guaranteed the week off between Christmas and New Years. I think I should have made higher demands, because Andrea actually rubbed her hands together gleefully in imitation of Kris’s reception to the news.

Oh well. I’m content with my lot: weekends and holidays off, a hefty raise, and eternal gratitude from Kris. I’m okay with that.

Limit

I have officially hit my weight limit. No more vague promises of eating "better" and working out "more". Full diet and exercise regime goes into place right now. I will lose 15 pounds in 30 days. I have planned my new menu--which includes changing my whole egg each morning to egg white only, and eliminates all sugary foods--and my return to The 30-day Shred.

I will not be uncomfortable in my own body.

Sickbed Manners

My doctor wants me to be sick and depressed.

This morning during our 3-month follow-up (to the six-week follow up to the appointment where I wanted to switch birth control and she wanted to put me on antidepressants) she seemed to think I was lying when I gave her answers more positive than I did last time, which were more positive than the time before. Her probing follow-up questions had tones of skepticism. By the time I left, my legs were crossed away from her and my arms were folded across my chest as tightly as they would go. I was done.

All she did was make me feel bad about myself, the way I'd expect a dentist to if I didn't have perfect teeth. During the first meeting, she criticized me for not exercising regularly. So, the next time I reported, and truthfully, that I was walking once a week with a friend. This time, I said I was up to 20 minutes of cardio twice a week, stretching every day and weights once a week. She actually gave me a "hmmm" and frowned, suggesting that I work on bettering my routine and making exercise more of a habit, so I don't slip again.

Is nothing good enough?! I'm improving, damn it, and I am doing better than most Americans. I made diet changes, I set aside time to relax, I cut major stressors, I am in control of myself and my environment.

"Too much control?" she asked. "Do you have any little habits that you fall back on when you don't have control, things that seem a little obsessive compulsive?" I said no. So she enumerated for my benefit things I might be doing: cleaning compulsively, growing angry when others don't clean to my specifications, biting nails, etc. I again said no. I've never been that way. When I get most anxious, I pick up a book and sit down. And despite my budgeting of time, I do not freak out when something throws off my plan. My nails are too long (but they grow like weeds, so don't assume I am ignoring hygiene). And if you saw my kitchen most days, you know the cleaning thing doesn't apply to me. I am fine.

"What percentage of time are you in control of your thoughts? What do you do when you have negative thoughts?" Well, I try to think about or do something else. Or I reason against those thoughts, pointing out to myself why they are irrational or damaging. "So...you...distract yourself or argue?" She smirked.

Hells Bells, woman! Of course I do. What else is there, besides dwelling on them and crawling under the covers hoping the sleeping pills you gave me will kick in soon? I have not taken those pills, by the way, in over three months. I am not withdrawing from friends and family. I no longer display any of the symptoms of depression, except perhaps headaches. But those, I attribute to my 3-year-old glasses prescription.

Yes, sometimes I still feel afraid. Sometimes I still feel sad. I am convinced that any emotionally-tolling event will leave scars characterised by recurring intrusive recollections, emotional numbing, and a decreased sense of security. This is typically called "baggage." And, sure, I've got some.

But, really, I am doing just fine.

Shopping is

shopping is shopping is shopping.

It does not matter whether it is for jeans, swimming suits, wedding dress fabric, cars, houses, or granite counter tops. It is the always the same: physically and emotionally draining.

So, the design center was totally over rated. Most builders have a design studio with samples of everything for you to choose from. Lennar, our builder, had one room in their model home. One. It had carpet, tile, granite, and cabinet door samples. We had to go look at houses being built to see doors, plumbing fixtures, lighting fixtures, crown moulding, brick, etc. Vinyl flooring comes standard in all wet areas, but they didn't even have pictures of it. Other things they had to email to us. So instead of walking in and piecing together a home and making an offer on it, we ran around for hours and then returned home to look at emails of other options. Seriously, how hard would it be to print out colored pictures of all this stuff and put it in a three-ring binder for prospective buyers to flip through? I am half-tempted to make one myself!

Plus, the seller tried to use scare tactics on us, talking about upcoming price increases. Kevin and I were both ready to wash our hands of the entire thing. We have since calmed down, but we will wait until next weekend to revisit the options.

Snow Day

Friday felt like a day out of the past. Not my childhood, however. College.

The snow and ice guaranteed me a day off work, but Kevin was working from home, so my exuberance caused too many distractions. By nine in the morning, I couldn't be contained anymore, so I put on my puffy down coat, a bright red scarf, and ran across the lawn to Audrei's apartment. I tippy-tapped at the door, in case she had slept in, so she wouldn't hear me from her room. However, she and Christa had spent the night in the living room, and I woke them up. Bleary-eyed, they let me come in, and we spent a pleasant ten minutes before another knock came at the door. Tamara, who moved into the apartment complex in January, had come, too, freed from work and looking to play.

Together, the four of us trooped out into the snow, stomping all the while in order to savor the delicious crunch beneath our boots. I had the idea to fetch Tiffany, and Tamara ran to another apartment for Jodi. By the time we stood at the door of Brittney's apartment, I began to realize something. I have neighbors whom I know. Lots of them, in fact. And I can run across the lawn at any time to drop in and say hi. The homeyness of it made me as nostalgic as did the snow.

I have friends again.

Playing with Options

On Saturday, Kevin and I are going to the design studio for our builder to play with options on our potential future house. I am giddy with excitement. Just looking at the floor plan, I have been decorating in my head. Now I can play hands-on!

Things I already know: I will paint the master bedroom blue damask; Kevin and I will put in our own crown moulding (or make Joyce do it, since I can't do anything in a straight line), ceiling fans, water softener and garage door opener; and we want the gas range.

We will be looking at cabinet colors, granite counter tops, tile flooring, carpet samples, hardware, blinds and doors. I am going to try to toe the line between economy and extravagance. I simply must remember that I will live in this house for the next 30 years, God willing. Some upgrades will be worth it, while others will not be.

Carpet, for example. Kids will ruin carpet, no matter what kind. So, we do not need to upgrade it. The standard stain-resistant stuff is good enough to be replaced in ten to fifteen years. Carpet in the dining room is another issue entirely. Food falls (or gets thrown) and I have had it recommended to me to tile the dining room for this reason. However, I don't really like the look of that in my head. Maybe one of those big plastic mats for the carpet during the food-throwing years?

Another dilemma I have revolves around a fireplace. To build or not to build? Practical me thinks of the cost, initial and over the years. Heat escapes through a flue, pests enter through the chimney, etc. Then the other side of me argues that fireplaces are pretty and romantic. What about Christmas? Won't somebody think of the children?!

After Saturday I will have a much better idea of what this house will look like and what I can do with it. If options really are running half-price this month, then I might have some real fun with this.

Can-do

I have taken an inventory of all our food storage, and my project for February is to get it canned. Alas, monthly budget only allows for 22 #10 cans, so in February, I can can half of it (using January's and February's allotment). I'll finish it in April. And I have learned my lesson: for the rest of the year, while I complete our supply, I will can on site before bringing it home. Or better yet, buy the pre-canned stuff.