worse, then better, repeat.

While renovating, you must tell yourself that things are going to get worse before they will get better. Repeat this mantra over and over at every stage - and eventually it will sink in.

Our house flip has been stalled on "worse before better" for a week or so... lots of progress, but no "better" parts... until this weekend.

You see?? Better already! The new staircase is in, the funny I-don't-know-what-the-hell-that-shape-is is closed in and things are beginning to look alot like normal. Finally.

And what is normal? Normal is Saucy taking pictures of other people working. Here, Veto looks worn out and tired as he puts the finishing touch of paint on the garage. He worked on the garage all last weekend and this weekend.

Remember: repeat, "worse, then better... worse, then better"

The humble beginnings of a kitchen pantry there on the right. The plumbing above the cabinets is proof that we went ahead and put a bathroom in the master suite, oh yes we did.

And this? The gem of the backyard. I have a new understanding of people after posting this beauty on kijiji for FREE. Lots of people like free, useless crap. I got emails from 27 different people wanting this!

Best line, from the guy who came to take it away (for FREE, may I add): Geez, this is going to need a lot of work. Some of those pieces near the bottom need to be replaced, and it needs paint. I'll take it off your hands, but it's going to need lots of work to make it respectable...

Best line not spoken by Saucy: Duh! It's FREE. I know 26 other half-blind people with questionable taste who will come and get it if you don't want it. You're ungrateful. I should push you down that well like that little kid from Texas.

But I said nothing, because The Fan didn't bring me up that way... oh wait... she did! What was I thinking? Did I ever tell you that she threatened to cut a knife salesman with his wares when he woke her early on a Sunday morning? Oh yes she did! She really did.

How about some positive vibe? My birthday gift from Miss Kelly! Ooooh she spoiled me so. Check out this sassy little beach coverup... in just my perfect colours.

Cupcake caddy.... freakin' nice! The Martha one! That Martha. That Kelly.

And just in case I have bakers block... a cookbook of 500 cupcake recipes. I'm on it. Starting this weekend.

Oh, and Loopy and I are going to have a fight over this, we decided. A dragonfly shirt. Sweet.

And yes, I can get things done under my own roof these days. I made it into the craft room to set up the snazzy ribbon rack that The Secret Weapon made for my birthday. This bad boy holds one tonne of ribbon, satisfying my obsessive-compulsive need to sort and organize.

Oh, and Veto hit me in the head with a hammer tonight. He feigned that it was an accident but secretly I think he was disgusted that I took photos of him at work and I was.... taking photos. I may have a massive concussion, I haven't decided yet. Just in case, I made him take me to Dairy Queen for preventative therapy.

things i adore

a stream of conciousness list
that doesn't include family members
just things

teddy bears. old movies. yorkshire terriers. making lists. crossing things off lists.

sorting things. art supply stores. planning parties. blog hopping. leaving comments.
getting comments. wrapping gifts. ladybugs. the number five.
platinum and diamonds. slippers. fresh flowers. book stores.
magazines. dragonflies. sunshine. sleeping. tea. raspberries.

yoo hoo. getting postcards. staying home. my iPod.

bedazzling things. taking photographs. baking. pears. costco ice cream.

the red sox. my glue gun. aprons. a manicure. cupcakes.

soaking my feet. Saturday Night Live. The Office.

carmex lip balm. nice hand cream. new socks.

my collection of Martha Stewart Living magazines.

my camera. the pearl earrings I've worn every day since 1983.

my craft room. the photo I took of Gramps. hot chocolate with marshmallows.

frozen yogurt. thunderstorms.

loopy turning into a lovely young lady. proactive skincare.

benefit cosmetics. getting my feet rubbed by buddy.

going for a long walk if I'm up to it. buying when it's on sale.

getting ready for Christmas. frying a whole chicken Martha's way.

blue boxes with white bows. peonies from the garden.

sprinkle doughnuts. Tim Horton's iced capps.

when the dogs both nap with me on the sofa.

people who read my blog.

indy!

All four of us ventured over to the cineplex to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It will be hard to review it for you without spoiling it so let me just say:

Harrison Ford: still very charming and believable

Shia Labeouf: winning me over

Cate Blanchette: beautiful, even when she is sinister

Chase scenes: thrilling

Lighting: so well done as to be noticeable

Snakes: he's still afraid of them

The costumes: worn by the actors and the audience, we saw four Indys

The plot: easy to follow, even if you missed two of the original trilogy

The end: satisfying!

The verdict: pretty close to four out of five cupcakes. It was awfully loud.

jobs at the woman's colony

I'm a realist. If Mrs. G gets the Woman's Colony up and running for the enjoyment of her readers, there will still be some responsibility to be had there. She will need help, make no doubt of it, in order to keep things running smoothly. We cannot leave this to men, we have established that much.

And so, consider this my application for a position at The Woman's Colony. I would make a fine group leader. But perhaps my talents lay elsewhere and would be more beneficial: fundraising.

Oh sure, Mrs. G promises long, lazy days of reading, spa treatments and bonding conversation. But we need to pay for it. Mrs. G has lots of ideas for funding The Colony, including turning tricks and celebrity endorsement.

But I must hearken (again with the British spelling) back to my freshman year at university. Or hearken further, to the summer before freshman year. I was employed full time at a well-paying job. Every penny I made went towards the cost of tuition and books for the upcoming academic year a new truck, a new dog, private pilot's lessons, going out with friends.

Thus, the day of reckoning arrived. My mother, The Fan knew that I'd not set aside one single penny towards the school year. She anticipated the whining, the pleading, the eye-fluttering that I would present to my father, The Secret Weapon. It was true. That was my financial plan.

The night before registration day, my friends invited me to go - to of all places - the race track. Having never been before and always up for new things wanting to get away from my mother, I split for the track immediately, where I placed the last few dollars to show for my summer of work on some special kind of race that I don't really understand but it had to do with three horses placing in three races or something like that... and of course you know where this is going...

The Fan woke me early the next morning to chastise me for my flagrant disregard of my financial responsibility and was met with a fistful of cash that paid for my tuition, my books, and then some - including a fistful of memberships in the social clubs on campus. Ha! I showed her!

Job skill number two: I should have a job at The Colony because I can look into the future and project the needs that we women might have. Why, I have already left a contingency plan for my bedridden years to deal with that recurring little hair that grows on my chin:

Yes, I am an over-planner, unlike my pre-college summer. I always have the essentials tucked away on my person, so I'm good in a pinch:

And you may remember that I 'fessed up to the fact that when I laugh too hard, a little pee comes out. I've taken care of that for the future too, and I will gladly share:

But the more obvious reason that I am a perfect candidate for - dare I say it - some sort of administrative position at The Woman's Colony - is that like our fearless leader Mrs. G, I too have had issues with my hair over the years.

It began at the hands of The Fan:

And later, a lesser-maintenance hairdo to see me through grade school:

But high school approached, and I heard that hair was IMPORTANT there...

Truth be told, this one was a bit of a costume of sorts but I wore it for the entire day, well past the point where I needed to wear it and I think that also says something about my dedication.

And so, fellow Woman's Colony members, let me work for you. I don't want this to be a long and ugly campaign. I'd like to have it sewn up before the convention.

tomorrow i am derfwad

Tomorrow I join the ranks of the most esteemed writers of my generation a handful of select bloggers as a guest blogger at Derfwad Manor. If you haven't met Mrs. G, the lady of the manor, let me introduce you.

Mrs. G is a mother, blogger, teacher, homeschooler, writer... and an inspiration. Her self-effacing and insightful wit keep her readers on the edge of their computer chair for more. Derfwad Manor was the original site of the Secret Celebrity Crush, where Mrs. G publicly declared her love for one Johnny Depp, and then got labeled a Sinny Sinnerson in her comments by an anonymous Judgy Judgerson. Nevertheless, Mrs. G dragged other bloggers out of the sinning closet and we subsequently declared our own celebrity crushes.

Mrs. G copped to the lies she told her children. Many of us fessed up to a few more of our own. We all regret raising such computer-literate children, because now the cat is out of the bag and we can't put the generic cereal into the Lucky Charms box anymore. But we're not blaming Mrs. G. Honesty is cleansing.


By far, the most interest that Mrs. G has sparked on her blog is for her own retirement plan, The Woman's Colony. Graciously, Mrs. G has shared her plan with her readers and invited us all to join her there. Once Mrs. G gets Oprah on board - and she will - her plan will come to fruition and we will all retire to a place where no toilet seat is left up, where Matt Damon-alikes are butlers, and three squares are prepared daily by not us.

Truly a class act, Mrs. G publicly apologized to a woman she wronged in the past, none other than the quasi-famous actress Sally Kellerman.

Come visit Mrs. G at Derfwad Manor and sign up to live at The Colony with us one day. The peace we will find there knows no bounds. Plus, James Bond will be the gardener, Mrs. G says so.

And because I'm no class act, it's time to reveal my final mark for Art History:

Yes, I flaked on the final. You do the math. I went into the final exam with a 99% average and it was only worth something like 20% of the final grade. I'm no math major, but I guess leaving and just not doing the essay portion probably hurt me.

I took the class for fun. About two hours into the final, it occurred to me.

"Hey, this was fun until a few minutes ago. Not having fun. I wonder if American Idol is on?"

And there you have it. 92 percent.

loopy

Today I needed a little break from the reno project. Veto spent the day working on the yard and garage there and Loopy and I stayed home to take some photos of her. We're going to have a few photo shoots over the summer, just for a fun little project together. Today was our warmup.

The entire photo shoot can be seen here. We are inspired lately by elsie flanigan and the cool photos on her blog.

no cupcakes for the phantom

For my birthday, Veto took me to see the touring production of Phantom of the Opera last Saturday night. Instead of jumping on the task of writing one of my usually generous cupcake reviews, I never even blogged it.

Why? It was creepy. A guy, in a half-mask, following a chorus girl around and then kidnapping her and taking her below the theatre to teach her how to sing.... really.

You may not take me seriously if you read my cupcake reviews with any regularity at all and you realize that I actually liked Baby Mama. Truth be told, I like most movies or productions that I see because, well, I appreciate the work that went into them to some extent and then to a lesser extent, maybe I just have low expectations.

Then I am reminded that once, in utter frustration, I shrieked: "I am not high maintenance! I am just low tolerance!".

Regarding Phantom: I didn't want to cop to the fact that I found it long and creepy and boring and did I mention creepy because it was in fact a very generous birthday treat from my Dear Veto, and if you are indeed a regular reader of this blog you will know that he is so very good to me, I could not even complain if he made me watch American Gladiators (which he doesn't, so there).

The most shocking revelation of the evening was that Veto loved it. This was his fourth time to see it. Now let the shock settle in when you realize that perhaps you married a closet musical fan. And all the while, I was wondering what the score of the Tigers game was.

Hey... aren't I supposed to be the "art nerd" of this relationship? Veto scoffs when I watch documentaries about the great cathedrals or read biographies of great composers (and some of them were crazy) so just what is going on when I am secretly praying for the end of the show (and maybe the end of that horrible, wretched music) and he is... shall I say it... entranced?

Can the tables turn in a relationship, if only for one evening? Was I the only woman there looking at her watch, wondering who was hosting Saturday Night Live... and was Veto the only husband there that the entire two hours, forty three minutes and seven seconds sailed by for? These are the oddities of marriage. But not as odd as that stupid mask and cape. Man, that guy gave me the creeps.

Oh, and let's keep this just between us. I don't want Veto to think me ungrateful, even though I guess I am. It was a sweet birthday night out, even though I had nightmares all week about a guy in a mask living in our pool house.

This is the print that Kelly has in her new bathroom. Don't you love that little nest? The artist's name is Angela Staehling and you can see more of her work here.

This is the little package I'm sending her way for her birthday next week. Just lucky I guess, I found the matching note cards and some post-its. The eggs are soap, and I threw in some extras in the carton so she will feel like she can actually use them. Loopy and I made the little nest last night, in our almost-tidied up craft room. I'm hoping to get it all pretty and clean over the long weekend.

Remember a while back when I got all braggy about seeing James Taylor in July and how I will be seated in the front row? Well, Loopy and I got tickets to see The Jonas Brothers on July 4th in Toronto and guess where we are sitting?

Them's the breaks. And because all of the tickets are "from a secondary source" (scalped) we paid more for the two of us to see these three guys with two hits in the back row than for the four of us to see one guy with dozens of hits in the front row. You do the math.

look what the bug made for my birthday

Look at the detail... the craftsmanship! Yes, this is the same brother that made for me a miniature dollhouse television for Christmas... that really works... but this:

... this is even more of a feat of fine craftsmanship, the pinnacle of his work as a replica artist. Note the fine fingers of the little wooden boy. His delicate features revealed themselves from a mere block of wood. Because every superhero needs a sidekick! Hobby night rules!




** watch this clip at 2:30 if you want to see the true origin of little wooden boy

it's my birthday

It's true - I've had that Oprah-rific cathartic epiphany that comes when you are old enough to know who you are and you're happy with it and you don't care what other people think. If forty is the new thirty, that's good. Because my early thirties were horrible. This is like a do-over.

Here's to being forty-one. And lovin' it.