Fwoing!

That's the sound Spring makes in these parts. I swear, one day there was nothing. The next day:

"Laaaaaaa!"

The Captain is pleased.

And some lovely roses (as for caring for these.. help?):

Kitchen Countertop Phototacular

I've been promising this for awhile; here (finally) are some pictures of the kitchen, all put back together. First, a small (sorry) picture of the way it used to be. You can't see much, but the countertops were dark and had a thick shellac on them.

Now, after much sanding (thanks to the Mr. and his dad) and staining (thanks again to the Mr. and his sister):

(Picture 3 is pretty much a wall-o-wedding gifts. Y'all will probably recognize a few things, there. Thanks again, everybody!) We used Cabot Polystain (a water-based stain/sealer combo) in Pecan Satin and so far it's held up really, really well; it's really resistant to spills and made for a really hard surface. I'm not too worried about dinging it. I'm sure it will happen, at some point, but we're having to be much less careful with it than we expected we would.

Back in Business

We're lucky enough that this house came with an attic fan. It's truly fantastic, with a few windows open it's like having the A/C on full blast. However.. it either hadn't been used much in the last few years or this past winter was particularly rough on it, because the first time we ran it the belt broke. Considering that for all we know that belt was as old as the fan/house (it certainly looked it), this wasn't too much of a surprise. It gave us an excuse to visit the local hardware store, which we'd do with or without an excuse for the experience. (I have no idea how anybody ever finds anything there unless you've worked there for.. 40 years? More? Really. I'm not exaggerating. We've given up, we just ask for things we need; this time, the Mr. said, "Attic fan belt broke," and held it up for inspection. "Sure did," was the response; the proprietor disappeared into another room, and after some rustling and the sound of something small scattering across the floor, returned with an intact version of the exact same belt. We figure there's a good chance the 'new' one is as old as the 'old' one, but does it matter if it works?) The Mr. reattached the belt and the fan (big, loud and scary-looking as it is) is back in business. Ahh, moving air. It's great--except that we underestimated how much pollen was still floating around in the air and having it on all day yesterday meant that everything is now covered in a quarter-inch dusting of yellow fuzz. Live and learn.

NEW HOBBY.

Half in. Half out. Leaves my options open.

Flatpackin'

I've already mentioned our trip to our local IKEA (sidebar, those of you out there who actually do live in one of the, what, six? major US cities to have its own big blue store of Swedish modern wonder: to us, "local" means "closer than the others," and a trip to one still means hours--yes, hours--on the highway listening to our own tailpipe rattling, because no matter who you are those boxes don't fit in the back of a Jeep and aren't we lucky that IKEA knows that about us and provides nylon cord for us tie down our hatches if we're unprepared to do so? For some of us, IKEA shopping takes determination and a certain amount of faith in complimentary insurance mechanisms), and there's not much to say, other than we bought a couple of very large pieces of furniture. It's always easier to put them together than I expect it to be. Our MARKOR still flat-packed:

It might sound stupid, but I find the whole thing less intimidating if I separate all the bits-and-pieces first (it's faster, later on, but also make us familiar with the parts so we're less likely to use the wrong thing at the wrong time). A gajillion pegs, bolts, etc., during the sorting process:

45 minutes (or so?) later:

"Bam." Okay, I stink at photojournalism. I was too involved to take pictures. It's now filled with books--really sturdy. We actually got this because what we were there to get turned out to be, like, two inches too big for the wall it had to go on. This particular one wasn't something either of us had picked out online; for some reason it looked a lot better in the store, and we're really happy with how it went up. The other giant thing we got was a wardrobe--the LEKSVIK 3-door, to be exact. We already had a dresser with the same finish. It's ginormous, but it does what we needed it to--we basically needed a second closet in our bedroom, where there wasn't one. I'll try to remember to take a picture of it.

The Miracle Gallon, part.. what, eight?

Yeah, this won't need much explanation. I've already waxed romantic over the Miracle Gallon. Here is yet another of its converts (hitherto known as "the dumpster table," "three-legs," "when are we going to get rid of that"). We saved it from the dump--holy cow, like, nearly two years ago--with plans to do something to it, and didn't, until now. (Read: definitely a case for the MG.) The Mr. lovingly reattached its broken leg and removed the duct tape that had previously been holding it there. (Yes, folks, we're moving up in the world.) It used to have a very dinged-up reddish (I'll call it "corporate office cherry") finish. I forgot to take a before picture, but I think most of you will probably remember it from the corner of our old living room. I got fancy with it, this time, and used some other leftover paint for an inset on the top. In process:

And, the finished product:

It's currently enjoying a second life as a side table for the aforementioned fauxfa. Two-inch painters' tape made that inset really easy.

We Bought A House (and a Lizard)

Yep. Came right along with it. Freebie. To best illustrate how we came to know this, imagine the following scenario: THE MR.: "Where did that bill go?" THE MRS.: "Oh, it's in the office. I'll get it--"

LIZARD: "Hey." THE MRS.: (freeze) THE MR.: "Oh, look, a little [insert colloquial term for lizards that I've already forgotten]." LIZARD: "Got any cheetos?"* THE MRS.: (pointing) THE MR.: "... I'll get it." It was deposited on the patio, after which it most surely scampered back inside to wherever it came from in the first place. Before it got a chance:

("'Sup.")

The Captain never noticed. Which was probably a good thing. *As in, "I heard you fed a slug one once."