Captain Me Planet

Your paint drop cloths are the white, monogramed sheet set, with satin trim, you received as a wedding present.

Or drink wine.  Whichever.  The latter seems to be the most soothing to the most assured flaws in my paint job, over 50 years of window trim colors.

Whistling?  Kind of annoying.  Unless, you’re drinking wine.

The list for the next 3 days…

polyurethane front door step, 3 times, sanding inbetween
paint molding around kitchen sliding doors
touch up kitchen window at bottom
pack up mudroom mess
pack up bedroom mess
look for bedding for MBR that is not embarrassing
office area?  finish arranging
get rid of antique sofa?, move to garage
family room - finish arranging
get treadmill upstairs?
follow up with the floor guy

Got to eat, and keep painting.

*update

prime ceiling, paint ceiling  Ceiling done!

 

Here we come…it. will. not. be. the. first. time (to the tune of "California, Here I Come", which is sorta funny, as that is where I was born, but I mostly raised in the Atlanta area). 

Looks like the Colonel is giving notice tomorrow, and Georgia will be on our minds.  

Pray for a good, quick sell, and that we don’t lose our minds finishing up the renovations.

I think, that this is going to be a good thing. 

 

 

It is bright blue outside.  With projected temps of low 90s today.  And the pool just opened.  Summer is here.  Forget the silly June 21 official start date.  Here, away down south, the AC is now running nearly around the clock.  It’s summer.

The Colonel and I are busy busy busy.  Painting, flooring, repairing, replacing.  There can be a lot to do in a 47 year old house.  And why rush?  We are considering a move to Atlanta.

I hear most buyers don’t like exposed steel i beams, studs, and unpainted sheetrock.  Although, I’ve grown quite fond of it all.  There’s just something about it that’s all so, I don’t know, urban?  Utilitarian?  Industrial?  No wait, I’ve got it.  With everything such a mess, there really is no need to clean all that well.   That, I love.

Atlanta?  My old home.  A better market for the Colonel’s career.  More restaraunts.  And the grandparents to take the children nearly whenever I wish (Hi Mom. Hi Dad, I love you.) That’d be worth a move to Timbutu.  Not that there’s anything wrong with Timbuktu.  It’s just the place you say when you think of something remote.  And it sounds funny.  Timbuktu.  Timbuktu.  Where is Timbuktu?

So there’s a job.  They seem to want the Colonel (naturally).  But we’ve yet to hear what the actual offer.  You know the details of the money, the benefits, the whens and hows.  It may not all come off.  We’ve been nosing around in Atlanta for months.  But in light of this nosing, the house really ought to get done.  

So that’s how we’ve spent our Memorial Day weekend.  Children begging to go to the pool while we say things like don’t you wanna help paint?  Hey, go haul this stuff to the garage for me, who wouldn’t want to do that for fun?  More cause for future therapy, I’m sure.

And I’d like to send a shout out to a new cyber-friend.  Zackintosh, who is from Pakistan.  How he found me, and decided that I was at all interesting to read is beyond my capacity of reason, but I feel all internationally important now, so I wanted my other 7 visitors to know in just what kind of illustrious company they keep.  And how far and wide my witty scribblings reach.  Hi Zackintosh, in Karachi.  Hey, that’s cool to type.  Karachi.  Karachi.  Karachi and Timbuktu.  How many times do you get to type both those words in the same post?  

 

Remember the gaping hole (after the disco, the eggs, and the belt test) in our kitchen floor?  It is gone.  Kapuut (is that how you spell kapuut?).  Because my Super Remodler Husband rocks.

Here is proof:

And then, just because he is gorgeous, Private 3 the other night…on his Remodel God daddy.

 

 

Not all on the original list is being done, because the gaping hole in our floor is being repaired with the help of our dear friend.  When a friend calls, you say, YES!  I’m ready to work on that, even if you had another agenda.

The pics telling the ghastly story are here…after the disco, the eggs, and the Karate belt. It’s the picture of the GAPING hole, beside my fridge. 

Anyway, so that is being handled, and a couple of other lesser issues are not.  But that is all good.  We’re all about flexible.  Just let it be known that I am nearly through with my trim work paint list.  Just half a doorway, and a front door to go, baby.  I. am. on. it.  

That, and I found the sweetest shelves for Private Girly…