I'll Never Write a Novel

The Memoir of a Personal Essayist OR Confessions of a Theatre Widow

Monday, July 24, 2006

Came in through the Bathroom Pocket Door

Hey kids, gather 'round, it's time to talk about home remodeling.

So, my beloved hubby is a great remodeler. His work is exemplary and our house and I have benefited tremendously from his carpentry. He really is amazing, but our bathroom has sincerely been in remodel state for about a year now. While our shower was essentially unusable for quite some time, it is now all unusable-- but on it's way to being something marvelous very soon.

We have a pocket door. It's really quite a miracle. I love it. Now our master bathroom is really a master bathroom, as it connects with our master bedroom. Masterfully. I cannot even tell you how cool it is. The way a pocket door works is much more complicated then how a standard swinging one works. It involves taking down drywall, rewiring, re-framing, and, at last, putting in a door that slides elegantly from inside the frame, to it's opening. Cool right? What I really learned is that I love seeing things completed, but with these kinds of projects it has to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.

Now, I am about to make a generalization about women. Please forgive me in advance. In my very unscientific research (talking to women I know), I discovered that most women get very tense when things have entered the "disaster time" just before a project gets finished. I don't believe that I am without "vision" for the finished product, but I truly believe that the whole space becomes a walking nightmare. And it's not done until it is actually done, so who knows how long the absurdity will go on.

Now, my master carpenter husband does not see things this way. He looks at the unfinished pocket door, torn down drywall and backerboard flooring and says, "Wow! This is awesome." And, it does. It looks awesomeish. It will look awesome. But it looks like greatness that wants to be wrapped in drywall, paint and the beautiful tiles that are currently residing in boxes in our living room. It looks awesome in the way a clean, blank canvas looks awesome. Good for now, but not a masterpiece. Yet.

I will post a photo of the pocket door soon. And you will realize it's awesome mastery.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Mystical Tans

I just overheard a conversation between my husband and one of his friends that made me laugh. They wondered if Robert Smith, legendary lead singer of The Cure, would in this day and age bend to the accessibility of the tan, or still reject the notion of pigment. Note: for those of you who don't know 'The Cure' go look it up, but the cliff notes version features a very pale lead singer.

The decision reached is that Robert Smith would likely have penned the emo pop hit, "Mystically Tan." Perhaps, somewhere he is actually writing that song. I recently saw Robert Smith on some program and I was stunned that he's still sporting the eyeliner and lipstick. I would not advise a woman of his age to be as gussied-up. It's simply not flattering. Somehow he pulled it off 20 years ago, but he should maybe go with a lighter shade, a simpler glass, something less... chalky.

Quickly on Mystic Tans. For us with the creamy white skin, this whole tan in a bottle, "everyone can have a tan" mentality, really stinks for those of us who want to be proud of our paleness. People used to ask, "Do you tan at all?" Now, they ask, "Do you ever tan? Have you tried spray tanning? I bet that would work for you. What about one of those lotions that make you tan?" They think just because everybody can tan, that everyone should tan. God made some of us this way for a reason, and why can't I just embrace that?

Moreover, have you ever smelled this stuff? It's made of beet extract. Beets. No one really likes beets. And they grow deep in the ground. This is the definition of "earthy." All this fake tan smells like something organic on the verge of going bad. Ick.

As Robert Smith might tell you, this smell may not make you want to be, close to me.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Sisters are Doing it for Themselves

Here we are. It's a day at the beach for my sister and me. Aren't we adorable?

This was part of a series that we did for our oldest, wisest sister about 23 years ago. I love this picture. I think it captures me as a child perfectly (I am the one on the log).

As I prepare for my impending move to NYC, this stood out as something I need to frame and take with me. Oldest sister is guiding me, and I am sharing my experience with my bestest of friends. It's a clear illustration of the truth of my life. Now, only if we could digitally add other, fun-time sister to this mix. That would be ideal. Fun sister says she has a series of photos from about this age in which she has given us makeovers. That is the completion of this series. I'll post it when I get a copy.

Speaking of said impending move. Today is a freak-out day. Some days I am really excited to see what's in-store for me next. This morning, however, I woke up terrified. I don't want to leave home, and I am not really sure that I want to live in New York. I do want to sell my condo, and spend more time having "adventures" with my husband. For the moment I think that I could do that here, but I know we need to get this particular adventure underway.

It would be great if I could take my whole family with me when I go. That's really the only thing that I truly need and care about. I may need to get my whole family to the beach for a photo like the one above so that I can take that little piece with me, too. It's not the same, but it's a start.