New Picture: Love or Hate?

I've received mixed responses to the new picture I posted on this blog (look right).  So, out of a lack of anything really interesting to watch on TV, I decided to ask my blog readers (Hi Mom!) your preference of photo.  First we have Photo #1:

This is the photo I use everywhere - on my website, on the Lessons In Stalking website, bio pics for articles, etc.

This is Photo #2:

I've had people tell me they love it, and others indicated that while it's a nice photo, having me sitting at a desk creates a barrier between me and readers so it's not as friendly like as Photo #1.

And, just for fun, we'll include dark horse Photo #3:

So, if like me you too can find nothing good on TV, please take a moment to vote for your photo preference.  There is also a write-in Option of "No one cares and quit posting d--- pictures of yourself on the web."  The goal here is to have every viewpoint heard. 

I'll be anxiously awaiting the results as I comb through channels for a good Seinfeld rerun.

Dena

Decorating Diaries: The Problem With Contractors

After years (and years, and years...) of up-close and personal observation, I've come to a conclusion about why I get nervous inviting contractors into my home.  It's not because they don't do good work...we've been delighted with the quality of work we've received over the years. It's not because they're not pleasant...most contractors I've met are extremely polite and well-mannered.  No, the glaring problem that stands out across the board with all contractors is this: They Always Find Something More That's Wrong.

To wit, my heated flooring people are here today.  As I passed the pleasant man in the hallway he gave me a look that I can only describe as a mixture of disbelief and humor, mixed with a strong dash of sympathy.  "That ductwork you got under your house," he said, shaking his head slowly.  He paused for dramatic effect.  "You got yourself a mess under there."

"What do you mean?" I asked fearfully.  (I knew what was coming.  Contractors are always finding things wrong with our home).

"Shoot.  That ductwork is laying all over the ground and is tore up in lots of spots."

"Well, that would explain the lack of heat," I said, trying to laugh.

He didn't smile back.  "Shoot.  That explains a lot."

I can't even claim that he's just trying to make a buck off me.  He doesn't do ductwork and had no one to recommend for it.  I'm just left home to ponder that what I have under there is a mess.

Remember a few weeks ago when the contractor was here to touch up paint on the outside of the house?  That's how we discovered yellow jackets in the walls, gutters in disrepair, and rotting boards out back.  Frankly, I think I'm happier not knowing.  Just let me live in ignorant bliss and peace until the day comes when the whole house just falls down around my head and I'll deal with it then.

And for the record, here's the other thing I don't like about contractors.  They're always asking me questions for which I have no answers, making me feel stupid.  Today alone I was unable to answer:

• Are you doing a ceramic or rubber liner for your shower? (Don't know...)
• What size trim are you putting back up? (Don't know...)
• Are you planning on evening out that ledge before the liner goes in? (Don't know...)
• When are they laying the tile? (Wish I knew, but don't know...)
• What do you think of putting a bullnose in over this? (What the hell's a bullnose and how dare you speak to me using language like that in my own home.  And, by the way, don't know...)

Coincidentally, it is for the same reason that I flat out refuse to ever call our Road Runner High Speed Carrier when we're having problems or our e-mail goes down.  Instead, I call Blair.

"Internet's not working," I say.

"Call RoadRunner, " he says, shuffling papers in the background.

"I want you to do it," I say.

"I'm swamped here.  Can't you do it?"

"No, obviously I cannot and that's why I'm calling you."

Here's why I refuse. When I call they start asking questions like, "What operating system do you use?" and "Would that be with the TG-500 model series upgrade or are you using a broadbank thing-a-widgeee 2000?"  I just want to scream at them "I don't know!  I don't care!  Just fix the stupid Internet and leave me alone!"

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to peruse some bullnose trim online.

Decorating Diaries: Floor & Tile

A few of you have e-mailed me asking for an update on the master bath progress, so here it is:

• Floor guys couldn't come on Friday because a part wasn't in, so they'll be here later today (Monday). 
• I received via fax a floor estimate yesterday from counter woman, who is henceforth to be known as "counter and tile woman."  I just left her a voicemail.  The pricing looks good, but I need to know if they are willing to do the tile work for the floor AND shower, or just the floor.  If it's just the floor, I'd just as soon have a tile guy come in who will do everything all at once.  But since she designed the floor and ordered the tile, I'm hoping she'll agree to just do it all.
• Counter and tile woman is looking into finding a liner for my shower for me.  (Then she will be "counter, tile, and liner woman.") Once I know the size of the liner, I can look at shower doors.  Once I order a shower door, I give the measurements to my contractor, who will build in the walls so that they fit a standard shower door and we don't have to spend the money to order a custom door.
• I've asked my contractor to come in and work on some drywall/taping repairs.
• Blair and I need to get our butts in gear and pick out lighting fixtures so we can get the lighting guy in. We want some...aw crap, I can't think of the word...you know, those little round lights installed flush in the ceiling?  Whatever those are called, we want those over the shower and over the countertop area.  But since they're installed in the ceiling, I would assume those would go in before the taping/drywall repair?
• At some point, having a toilet installed would also be a good thing.

Our front guest bedroom has become a parts place.  We've got the toilet, shower fixtures, old bathroom mirrors, heating vent, and God know what else piled around the floor in there, each waiting for their special moment when it's time to be installed in the bathroom.  Blair says the bathroom will be done before Christmas.  I'm not as optimistic. But I'm willing to leave out cookies and beer for Santa if it might help.

These Boots Aren't Made For Walkin'...

This little piggy went to market.  This little piggy stayed home.  This little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none.  And this little piggy went "wee-wee-wee'" all the way home!

My piggy who feasted on roast beef and the bereft piggy who had none are numb.  Numb as in, there's a deep tingling sensation inside somewhere near the bone, but I'm pretty sure you could drop a brick on either piggy and I wouldn't feel a thing.

Why?  I wore my kicking, super-high heel boots all day yesterday - 7:30 AM to 9 PM.  While I looked good, I think I may have done permanent damage to my feet.  How the Carrie Bradshaws of the world do this on a daily basis is beyond me. I've worn the boots before for a couple of hours and my feet have been sore, but I've never actually lost sensation in a body part before. I'm guessing that can't be a good thing.  Especially since it's been almost 12 hours  since I slipped the heinous things off my feet.  Today I will embrace my mother Earth/granola  side and wear only Birkenstocks with thick, comfy socks.

Meanwhile, piggies are dying...