Musings while painting a bathroom

About a month ago I was helping my aunt edge my cousin’s bathroom, and I thought to myself, “I could do this. What am I so afraid of?”

My thoughts are grammatically incorrect.  I apologize.

I guess I haven’t necessarily been afraid of painting… but I did feel like it was a project that I was reluctant to bite off alone.  When I painted my bathroom in my old apartment, it required taking down old wallpaper.  And that did sort of scare me.  So when I say “I painted my bathroom…” it actually went like this:

I picked out the paint.  I purchased the paint.
Mom and Dad drove down here.
We took a few trips to the hardware store.
Mom and I helped spray stuff on the wall.
Dad took down the old wallpaper.
Dad painted the bathroom.
Mom and I talked in the living room.
I baked Dad a cake.
The end.

But my apartment now is a clean slate.  Bright white walls.  No wallpaper in sight.

So what was there to be afraid of of which to be afraid?  Memorial Day weekend.  Me. My guest bathroom. Paint.

I figured picking out the paint color would be the hardest part.  I already had towels and a rug in the bathroom, both of which were purple, and I wanted to still be able to use those.   I thought I would go with a safe “gray” (or “grey,” if you prefer), but when I brought paint chips home, I realized for the first time that the tile was an interesting brownish that turned sort of pink when I brought the gray near it.  So no gray.

My mom suggested green, and I’m thinking she probably had a subtle, light green in mind.  But anyone who knows me knows that I don’t go for light and subtle.  So I finally fell in love with a sage color and wondered just how dark I could go.

I bought two sample cans of almost the same color and brought them home to test.  I ended up going with the darker of the two (the top one) because the lighter one dried more of a “mint” green than I wanted.  That picture doesn’t really do either of the colors justice.

I hesitated before buying the paint.  What if it was too dark?  What if no one liked it?  What if I was making a huge mistake? There’s no natural light in the bathroom — should I go with a lighter color?  Will the room look super small?

Then I realized… who cares?   I liked the color.  I didn’t need a quorum to make this decision.  I was painting the bathroom.  Me. All by myself.  And I could paint it whatever the heck color I wanted.  And if I didn’t like it?  Guess what?  I could buy another gallon of paint and paint it the next weekend.

Which leads me to my musing as I painted my one coat of primer (clearly the most unsatisfying thing anyone could do in a morning.  I probably won’t do that again) and my two coats of paint over the weekend.

Tom Petty’s greatest hits were blaring in the guest room, and “The Waiting” was on when I began my musing.  I’m sure the song is about sex or drugs, but the refrain got stuck in my head and I started thinking about “the waiting is the hardest part.”

I’m at a time in my life now where I’d like to think I’m waiting for the next thing.  Waiting for my knight in shining armor.  Waiting to become a famous Catholic speaker or writer.  Waiting for what’s next in life.  I love my life, but I’d like to think something is going to be different in the next five years.

But then I thought about the dangers of living that way — waiting for the next thing to happen.  It seems as if it would be impossible to be happy.  Sure, maybe life will be different in five years.  But maybe it won’t be.  Maybe I’ll be sitting in this chair in my sunny living room blogging.

I’ll at least have a pretty bathroom.

A bathroom I painted all by myself.

So forget waiting.  I’m going to start doing.

What if “he” never comes?  Will I have to be “that single girl” for the rest of my life?  Only if I choose to be identified by the lack of wedding ring on my finger.  And I’m not willing to do that.  Heck, according to married people, single life is carefree!  So why don’t I act like it?

Why don’t I do crazy things like paint my bathroom?

I’m ridiculously happy with the bathroom.  I love the color (although I’m not sure its true color comes out in pictures).  And I love how satisfying it was — to go from a completely white bathroom to a warm, “misted fern” one.  And it was so gratifying to know that I did it all myself.  I know it sounds pretty silly, since I’m a grown woman and should probably be able to paint a wall.  But just let me enjoy my success for a little while.

I didn’t even tape!  And, if I do say so myself, I did a pretty good job free-handing it.  I like a challenge.

Okay, maybe not always:

I also like reminders of my inadequacies.

I was very happy with how the paint matched both the tile and the purple.  I settled on a pretty white shower curtain from World Market- a rarity for me (“plain white” usually means “borrrring” in my book), but I glad I did.

Okay, ready for the final reveal?  Unfortunately, I can’t get a picture of the whole bathroom, but one wall will have to do.

Just turn your head a little.

I’m ready to paint the whole apartment now.  If that little room gave me so much satisfaction, why wait?

is this crazy hereditary?

This post in the same genre as yesterday’s.  I leave you to name that genre.

This weekend Megan commented on my random wall and said she liked it.  At least I think she said she liked it.  I was happy, because I’m still not sure about it — I’m almost too pleased with it, because it really is a rather random conglomeration of things put up on my wall because they kind of look nice together.

I started with Joan of Arc:

She definitely can stand alone.  She’s beautiful, she makes a statement, she can dominate a wall.  I would hang her above my fireplace alone.  But on this wall she looked a little lonely.

But what could possibly look good next to her?

I have a beautiful little gold bas-relief of St Joan that my pastor gave me when he went over to Germany.  It’s one of my favorite pieces, and I knew it would go well with the large picture.  I then began assembling other little things that seemed to match, and I eventually came up with my random wall:

When Megan said she liked it, I commented on the random nature of things.

Like the random picture of John XXIII.  I don’t have a particular devotion to Bl John XXIII, but I had his picture and it fit up there.  It’s a picture from my great aunts’ house.

“There has to be a story about it.  Right?” I commented to Meg.  I don’t know who is in the picture with John XXIII.  ”But maybe my aunts knew him. I like to think that. Maybe it was a friend of theirs.”

“I mean, who would have a framed picture of the Pope with some random guy that they don’t actually know?” I pointed out to Megan.

She was silent for a short while.

And then she pointed out that I did.

Oh. Right.

So maybe that bishop with John XXIII was the Georg Ganswein of one of my great aunts.

Hm.

Things to do & Things I am doing

Things I should be doing

1. Laundry

2. Mopping my concrete floors

3. Working on the class I start teaching in 12 days

4. Looking over the Bible study training I’m helping present in 10 days

5. Grading papers

6. Exercising

7. Writing the meaningful blog post that’s in my head

8. Reading the book that was chosen for book club that meets in 8 days

9. Sleeping

 

Things I’m doing

1. Driving all the way over to World Market to take advantage of their Nutella sale (no joke. Nutella was 40% off there today) only to find out that they are sold out of Nutella.

2. Reading tweets

3. Checking Ramin Karimloo’s tour dates every other day to make sure he hasn’t snuck Nashville in there when I wasn’t looking

4. Eating ice cream

5. Listening to my lovely neighbor play the piano (this happens every other night and I love it.)

6. Watching this video on YouTube and laughing hysterically.  Why am I just now seeing this?

(You’re welcome.)

Spoons

Everyone should buy themselves birthday presents. (unless you know whatever it is might be coming from someone else- then it’s just mean. Or dumb.)

I received a $10 gift certificate from World Market for my birthday, because they’re brilliant and know if they give you $10, you’ll spend $20. Surprisingly, I was good and didn’t buy the scarf I was first drawn to- because it was certainly not $10.

Instead, I wandered over to the houseware section, figuring there was definitely something I needed for the kitchen.

Luckily, I remembered the dishwasher had eaten my tablespoon measuring spoon awhile ago, something I usually only remember when I’m baking and annoyed I have to measure everything in teaspoons.

So I treated myself to these. Aren’t they great?

Happy birthday to me!

gift giving

I love to give gifts.  I love finding just the right present for someone and then seeing their reaction when they open it.  The problem occurs when you don’t think of the right present at the right time.  Sometimes you just stumble upon something and realize it’s perfect.  But most often, I’m racking my brain trying to think of something wonderful, and I just end up mad at myself that I have to get them something average.  I set the bar pretty high, and then am disappointed that I’m getting them something “just to get them something.”  Not that they usually care… or notice.  I’ve never had someone turn up their nose at a gift I’ve given, haha.  It’s my own problem.

One of my dearest friends got married last weekend, and I struggled with the present.  She told all the bridesmaids that we didn’t need to worry about getting them a present because of the cost and sacrifice that goes into being a bridesmaid.  But that’s just ridiculous.

The biggest dilemma for me when it comes to friends’ wedding presents is that I want to get them the greatest, most touching thing ever.  My close friends are the best — we have so many incredible memories, have had so many amazing conversations, and we’ve truly been there for each other at life-changing times.  What do you get someone like my friend — after we’ve shared the trials of freshman year, deep conversations about the present and the future, the agonies of crushes-gone-wrong, the uncertainty of senior year and graduate studies, the joys of a shared spirituality– not to mention a life-transforming spring semester in Rome?

Wedding presents are hard, though, because they should be for the couple.  And so I decided I needed to lower the bar and not look for a present that encompassed everything I possibly felt towards my friend.  I didn’t need to thank her for the last ten years, as much as it seemed I should.

So I decided to get them this.

I went to a craft festival and fell in love with the spoons at one of the booths.  They were gorgeous, hand-carved spoons — each one a little different, all surprisingly light-weight.  I really fell in love with a ladle, that had an awesome handle and a perfectly-shaped deep bowl.  It was extremely out of my price range, however, so I picked my second-favorite spoon for them.  This weird-looking stirring spoon is designed to help you reach the corners and base of your pot!  Isn’t it great?!

To go with my spoon, I visited a booth nearby that was selling these beautiful cutting boards.  Since I decided the couple probably already had a cutting board (you don’t live on your own for 5+ years without a cutting board), I chose this small one because I thought it was something you probably wouldn’t buy for yourself.  And it could double as a nice serving block for cheese. : )

So I was happy with my present, even though it didn’t radiate meaningfulness.

I went down a few days early to help my friend and her family get ready for the wedding.  It was such a treat to be there with the family before the final craziness (although it never really was crazy, because they were so well-prepared).  A few nights before the wedding, the groom’s family came over to meet the bride’s family for the first time.  I was  there as comedic relief.  Haha, just kidding.  It actually was a really enjoyable evening, and again, it was a treat to get to know the groom’s family before the craziness began.

We spent the afternoon making dinner.  I had two main jobs– cutting and stirring.  At one point in the evening, while the families were meeting, I was content to stay in the kitchen, out of the way, stirring the vegetables to death.

When I went to give the present to the bride and groom the next day, I was struck by how perfect it had become.  Instead of just some nice things for their kitchen, it had become a reminder of that day — the treat of our time together, the feelings and emotions as we cooked dinner and prepared for the future in-laws, and the friendship we shared as we spent that last day together before the wedding crowds came.   What I had done with my friend– whether it was comedic relief or just chopping vegetables — the couple would now do together.

Some presents get better with age.

success

First St. Patrick’s Day party I’ve ever hosted: success.

I think, anyway.  No one got in a fight.  No one threw anything across the room.  No one cried.  People laughed.  People ate my food.  People talked to each other.  We even played a game.

You know what the secret was?

…..

…..

My new apron.  Isn’t it the cutest thing you ever saw?

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my first party hosted in my new apron was a success.  And you think that side is cute?  It’s reversible– you should see the other side.  (you really should.  Click that link.)

Oh, and yes, I did wear those socks to work.  Why do you ask?

The Bishop called me on pretty official business today.  It’s probably good that he didn’t drop by the office unexpectedly, huh?

new kitchen treats

I splurged yesterday and bought myself more things for the kitchen. Well, it wasn’t as much of a splurge as it could have been because I bought them at TJ Maxx.  And they were things I needed. Okay, well sort of.

Meet the two newest members of my kitchen:

The cutest saucepan ever.  I’ve been a one-saucepan-kitchen for many years now, and it was getting old.  So when I saw this on sale, I couldn’t resist.  And it’s perfect for a single person.  I made mashed potatoes tonight and cooked two potatoes in this.  It was perfect.

And the cutest little casserole dish.  Well, the second-cutest, because the cutest is still at TJ Maxx.  It was smaller than this one (you can’t tell how small and cute this is, but it is) and I decided it wasn’t the most practical thing.  But this one is perfect– once again, great for a single person.  Some day I’ll own Le Crueset, but until then, this knock-off will have to suffice.  7 dollars is more my price range than $140.  (Mine isn’t cast iron.)

Dinner is served!

in the kitchen

I hope everyone is having a wonderful Christmas.  I think I can honestly say that the days of Christmas this year were some of the best I can remember — all the nieces and nephews were hilarious and played together so well, we had lots of time to visit and just be together, Midnight Mass was gorgeous, and it was just darn good to be home.  I was pleased with all the presents I had gotten for people, too, which always makes me happy.

And I got a bunch of great stuff.  As much as we’d all like to admit we only find pleasure in giving — and I do find great pleasure in it (I love trying to find the perfect present) — we all have to admit we find pleasure in getting, too!

This Christmas seemed to have a theme.  Besides getting books and other great things, I got a lot of things for the kitchen.

I found this very exciting.  For some reason, I have a hard time spending money on things for the kitchen.  I’ve had horrible knives for years (I could barely cut through the skin on a tomato) and yet couldn’t rationalize spending money on a single nice knife.  I’m not really sure why.  But my mom took the huge hint at Thanksgiving and I found Wusthof knives under the tree!  Yay!  They complement the amazing orange knife that my sister got me for my birthday!  woo woo!

Something else that joins good knives on the list kitchen must-haves is a microplane zester. Thanks to my sister, I can cross that off my list too!  Woo hoo!  And my brother and sister-in-law surprised me with an ice cream maker… a bright orange one, of course!  So the blog will soon be dotted with entries chronicling my efforts to make amazing ice cream while simultaneously trying to not gain fifty pounds before fitting into a bridesmaid dress in May.

Right now, my kitchen smells deliciously of baked bread.  My friend Mary told me about this: Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day while I was home for Christmas.  While I knew I could trust her — and she had both pictures and a happy husband to back up her claims — it still seemed too good to be true.  Well, Mom and I tried it that evening, and it was true — great bread without kneading or doing really much of anything.  While we’ve just made the master recipe’s basic loaf, I’m thinking about getting the book and trying the other variations.  Of course, there’s that bridesmaid dress and I probably don’t need more bread…

Keep enjoying Christmas, everyone!

post office update or “how to get things done”

Whenever I need to title things (which in the blogging world is often), I think about the old Rocky and Bullwinkle shows when they would title everything twice.  I was too young to get the humor and always wondered why they titled everything twice.

This is an update on my mail.  I know you’re all enraged and waiting on the edge of your seats to find out what has happened and if this injustice is going to be remedied.

A wise woman told me to contact my state representative and senator.  Her husband (my father) told me to contact my federal representative and senator.  So I contacted all of them.

My state senator, Douglas Henry, emailed me and told me to contact US Representative Jim Cooper and he would do the same. I don’t know if he did, although the email actually looked like he typed it and looked pretty legit.

The first time I contacted Jim Cooper and Lamar Alexander (my US Senator), I didn’t hear anything.  Then I emailed them again.

I’ll spare you all the long story, because I’ve already dragged it on enough.

Suffice to say, I got a call from Jim Cooper’s office telling me that my mail would be delivered to my apartment complex office.  Jim Cooper’s office called my apartment complex and the post office to get to the bottom of why poor me was not receiving my mail!

The post office made my apartment complex look bad, when it was really mostly their fault, but at this point, all I care is that it made things move and now the box is fixed.

I’m not receiving mail there yet (I’m going to the clubhouse every day and announcing, “The troublemaker is here to get her mail,” which they seem to get a kick out of – for now) but it looks hopeful that tomorrow, on the three-week anniversary of the beginning of the mail mess, I might actually have mail delivered to my box.  (It does leave me wondering about my neighbors, though.  Has anyone else noticed that we haven’t received mail for three weeks?  Are my neighbors that apathetic?  I mean, I know I get stirred up easily (I am Judy’s daughter, after all), but seriously?  Three weeks?  Why do I have to be the irate one all the time?)

The irony?  I voted against the two representatives who helped me, Senator Henry and Representative Cooper.  In fact, Representative Cooper makes my blood pressure rise and has received plenty of emails from me about the fact that he does not represent the true wishes of his TN constituents.

But he helps them out when they’re in a pinch.

Thanks, Representative Cooper!  (I still disagree with you about fundamental things.  But maybe we can be friends anyway.)

helpless

Sorry I’ve been MIA lately.  Just like my mail and the post office’s customer service.

If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been since November 22nd, join the club — I’ve been wondering where my mail has been.

Not really, I guess.  I know it’s been at the post office.  But I’ve been wondering why it’s not in my box.

I thought that’s what the post office did, you see. Silly me.  I thought they received mail from across the country addressed to me, put it in a truck, drove it to my home, and put it in a box.

How naive of me.

The mail box at my apartment complex has been broken for weeks.  I wish I would have made note of when I first walked to the box to find the door open and no mail.  I believe it was November 18 or 19.  Since the big door is broken, 50 or so of us have mailboxes that aren’t secure, so the post office isn’t delivering mail to us.

The apartment complex claims they call the post office every day and the post office says they’ll come fix it.  The post office tells us we can come pick up our mail at the post office.

I wish I could get paid for not doing my job.

I wish this post could go viral and everyone could be up and arms about how dumb my post office is and how they are getting away with complete incompetence.  I can only write so many letters to the postmaster and to my senator and representative.  After awhile, one begins to feel helpless.

Over two weeks of no mail is getting kind of old.