Last night we went with a friend to a paint studio. We painted The Scream.
I was a little disappointed the instructor didn’t know how to pronounce Edvard Munch’s name. The only factoid she knew was a recent auction price. Maybe that’s all classes require.
We ate small plates, drank some wine and painted:
We woke up this morning without electricity. We have no idea why not, but we assume it’s because the power company can’t handle the demand at 6am in 16 degree weather. Yeah, because they are a power company and demand doesn’t increase in the winter. I’m guessing we were without for three solid hours.
We found out our generator can’t run the heat strips of our HVAC system which is a real pain in the butt. We already knew it wouldn’t run the AC as witnessed by our several day camp-out last June. The better-half built a fire this morning and even though I don’t like waking up without power, I did like having a fire through the morning.
I will say when it is cold outside we find out how poorly insulated our house is. There are many things we like about our house and many things that we despise. One of those things is the CHEAP-ASS BASTARD who built the house. Seriously, from the septic system that had to flow up hill, to the broken seals on windows (yes, they broke those before the people before us moved in. And, yes, no one has fixed them.) to the lack of insulation (or at least inferior R-values) there’s just so much slipshod around here that it ticks us off sometimes. Today I was on the floor in front of the stove and cold air was pouring in from somewhere. No idea where it was coming from because we actually know that area is sealed. Perhaps there’s a big hole behind one of the cabinets. Seems likely.
I know the builder isn’t the only one to blame. Apparently, the county’s building inspectors during the late 90s were high on the same crack pipe as the builders. I can only hope now that every Tom, Dick and Harry can’t get a loan and houses aren’t popping up like mushrooms that someone will think back to when houses were built with pride. Maybe I’m smoking the crack pipe too, but a girl can dream.
I’m going to miss this scene when I start work next week.
I interviewed with a college on 7/13/12. I received an email last night telling me I hadn’t been selected for the job. No shit. After six months of hearing nothing else from them, I figured that out myself.
After a week of either clouds or pouring rain, we had some snow last night. You can’t tell from either picture, but we have blue skies and sunshine today. So even though the snow is going to be short-lived, it’s really pretty right now.
As you can tell, it’s not a lot of snow, but most area schools are cancelled today.
If you’ve been following along at home, you know I lost my job in September 2011. I finished school in May 2012 and finished a (paying) project in September 2012. Since then, I’ve read a lot of books and have pretty well finished all the home improvement projects we could think of except for a few that really need two people and we’ve just been unmotivated or out of time (re: the porch floor).
I’ve accepted a position with a non-profit in the area and I start after my fingerprints clear me with the government (it’s all digital now, how cool). I hope that will be at the end of the month. I will be a contractor for ninety days and then convert over to a full-time employee status. This is mostly so the consulting company that presented me to the non-profit can get paid their fee–the money they make off my back will pay the finder’s fee. I’m hoping when I “convert” the salary will bump up a little as it is less than my last full-time gig.
It may not be my dream job, but it seems no one really wants to talk to me about that so whateves. It will be a very good learning experience for me and the non-profit’s mission is OUTSTANDING. I told the better-half the other day that if they offered me, I’d accept because one of the men on the team has crazy-long hair. And, he made a Star Trek joke in the interview. My people are everywhere.
For Christmas someone in the better-half’s extended family gave me a plug-in fragrance defuser thing. You know, like one of those Glade things, only this was some other brand that I’ve never heard of and it really doesn’t matter. We use one of those things in the guest bathroom because that’s where the litter box is. I tend to buy the “fresh linen” scent because it is subtle but does the trick of masking cat deposits.
I plugged the gift into an electrical socket and after about five minutes unplugged it and threw it into the kitchen trash can. It was so overwhelmingly cloying that I thought we might both end up with aneurysms. After a little while in the trash can, the better-half swore at the stench and took the bag out to the super can. It sat in the super can for a couple of weeks. This past Saturday we took all the trash and recyclables to the dump. When the better-half put the super can on the truck, we could still smell that plug-in thing–it overpowered a month’s worth of trash. How in the hell did anyone from the manufacturer to the person who gave me the thing think I could possibly use that in my house?
In 2004 we bought all new appliances before we moved into this house (Jan ’05). Those appliances were the dishwasher, microwave, stove, refrigerator, washer and dryer.
We have had the following repaired: dishwasher, refrigerator and now the stove. The upper oven’s upper element has welded itself broken. That means no broiling and no toasting until sometime next week. It’s time to get the cheap toaster oven out of the attic.
REALLY!? That’s 1/2 of all the appliances have crapped out in some way in the last nine years. Even though that’s not 90%, the title of this post is the phrase we use around our house and it’s close enough when every repair starts off at $84 just to have the guy show up to tell us something is broken.
I’m ready to see what 2013 has in store.
The other day my sister brought over a box of old photos that our parents gave her and we scanned the contents of the box. My sister and I (wo)manned one scanner and the better-half and one of our nieces manned the other scanner. The project took a few hours just to get all the photos scanned and my sister helped with guessing dates when there were no dates listed on the photos. I think the record keeping gene must skip a generation. I have it, but my mother did not.
My mother was a total slacker when it came to marking photos. My paternal grandmother was a bit better but today when I got out old yearbooks to attempt to identify school pictures most of the dates my grandmother scribbled on the backs of photos just don’t line up with the yearbooks. How in the heck does that happen?
For instance, here’s a picture of me (in front) and a bunch of kids. We have no idea who any of these kids are. Not one face registered with us and yet they were in our backyard with me:
A note on the back would have been nice. I joked with my sister that the next time I see our mother I’m going to give her a piece of my mind about the lack of notes. Of course that conversation will have to be at a seance or on some sort of astral plane.
At some point when I muster the endurance, I’m going to scan the boxes of photos we have in our guest bedroom closet. It’s a boatload of photos and they are in no logical order. At least I’ll have an easier time with dates, places and people since nearly all of the photos we had printed back in the early years of our relationship were date stamped on the back–thank you photo processing place.
