A Tiny Update

This weekend is my last wedding of the year. This bride doesn't really like flowers and the few that she did approve of aren't on the market right now, so it's possible that I'll be going out with a real bang. 
Later today I give my first grad-school presentation on my experience in education. I've decided to go with brutal honesty infused with humor, so it's a possible disaster.

The girls ensure that the new office setup feels cramped.

As of this morning, Brett and his two bosses are the only structural engineers left at the office. The other guy quit so all his work will fall onto Brett and a fresh-from-college girl they just hired. We don't really know what this means for Brett's workload. As a proud supporter of the "don't bite off more than you can chew" theory, I feel calm that he'll just get to projects when he gets to them. If the bosses want more done, they'll have to hire someone. But Brett is very integritous and will always do his best for people so I worry that he's going work too hard and crap out. 

Ellen and Lee seem to be out of the newborn trenches with both tots going to bed around 7:00 and sleeping through the night. Ellen still goes to bed promptly at 8:00. 

While Mom continues to worry about Bobo and spot assorted snakes through the windows, Dad flys around town "checking on things" and taking phone calls. He always says he has nothing to do but he's also never home just sitting around. It makes me wonder what it's like to be a person with energy. If small tasks didn't take up so much of your gumption, you probably would feel like a day was full of potential. 

Pippa after a big day in the wilderness.

I'm very much looking forward to the next six months. I have no real plans besides my school work, and it makes me feel college-aged again but without the angst and bitterness. I'm thinking of taking on a trivial part-time job (partially for the income and partially to keep me hygienic) and mulling over those kinds of options that you really don't care about is a whole new way of seeing the world. This must be how Dad feels. "I don't need to do this, so really I'm doing you a favor." I've always toiled over picking out jobs, having the interview, learning the tasks quickly, etc. Turns out a little indifference is good for me. 

Passing The Torch

Every year around this time, Dad and I bring out the floating dock. It sits dormant all winter in the marsh grass up near the yard, lovingly hosting a variety of critters on it's plastic topside. Once the weather stays warm for a few consecutive weeks, we find a good high tide, and then it's time to wrangle that floating blob into its summer position. Dad ties a rope to one end and pulls the thing the length of the dock. I ride on the plastic cubes pushing it away from the dock as it inevitably drifts back underneath. The pulling is a tough job and sometimes Dad just ties it to the lawn mower and hauls it. This is a frightening and possibly foolish endeavor though, because the mower is exactly as wide as the dock. If the steering wheel turns even slightly, you're going over. 

At the end of the dock, I hug the pilings and push my feet to spin it into position, then we tie it off to be safe. The best part of installing the floating dock is that we lose tools every year. They jump right out of our hands into the dark salty brine, never to be seen again - unless we come back at low tide and fish things out of the mud. Pops and I usually have a giggly outlook about this task because something always goes awry. We've lost screws, wrenches, washers and lots of patience. One of the hardest parts should be the easiest; placing the connections over the top of the pilings. It's only hard because we can't reach. A few times Dad has climbed a ladder as it bounced and dropped along with the wake; the disaster and the laughter just waiting for its moment. 

Then we lay on our bellies and fight the metal and wood into submission. I look forward to this annual debacle with Dad. Once Brett came on the scene, we started using him to place the connections over the pilings, because he can just stand there and do it. Then he started holding ropes for us, and then he took over my job completely. Initially I objected to this. It's my special annual Dad drama! I like knowing how to do things and use tools and be handy. I didn't want to marry a fella and stop mowing the lawn or fixing broken widow latches, etc. I don't need no man! 

But the surprise ending to this tale is that I love watching Dad and Brett work together even more than being the reason Dad loses another wrench. I can't decide why it's so heartwarming. Maybe it's the acceptance of each other or Brett's readiness to help my beloved Papa or Dad's knowledge being passed to by beloved bubba. They grunted and laughed as they failed to push the screws into place. "So close! So close!" They complimented each others brilliant suggestions. "Oh yeah! That'll do it!" and occasionally barked at me. "Lue! Screwdriver! Hurry!" This year, right at the end, on the last turn of the wrench, Brett lost his first tool to the mighty depths. "Noooo!!!" he shouted while Dad paddled the water hoping to catch it. "But I was done! It just jumped out of my hand!" Dad laughed at him and smacked him on the back. 
"Oh I've dropped that one a few times. I'll find it."

They packed up all the ropes and tools and made their way back down the dock towards the yard. Another "successful" install. 

I realize this will be my job again one day when Pops is so ancient and decrepit that he can't make it out to the end of the dock anymore. Then it'll just be the Big Guy and me, fighting the tide the way Old Man Union taught us to. His lumbering legacy will live on. 

I got years of memories sprawled out on that dock laughing at my old man. I'm happy for Brett to collect as many of those as he can. 

African Tidbits

I won't spoil any of the wild tales you'll be hearing from EisenEars. I'll just leave a few photos from Cape Town, sand surfing, shark diving, camp at Kusewera, one child's fondness for Brett's tattoo, golfing in Lilongwe, a safari river cruise, and a brief but frightening visit to Cairo. 

While He Was Out

Among the many unimportant things in this world that I just love, sits a longstanding love affair with interior design. Rooms excite me. Four walls of endless possibility. When I was little, I'd look through home decor magazines and rip out the pages displaying envy worthy kitchens and livings rooms, and I'd tuck them away in an an accordion file folder organized by style; Coastal, Mediterranean, Scandinavian, etc. When I was 16, I tried to use my savings to buy an antique french console table and Dad actually told me I couldn't. "I won't let you. You're supposed to be blowing your money on drugs, not furniture. Please let me get you a fake I.D." - Papa U

I longed for the day I had a house of my own to decorate. Would I go with a Tuscan kitchen or bathrooms inspired by Martha's Vineyard? Now, as a home-owning adult, I check the real estate listings first thing every morning. I do this mostly so I can look inside of people's houses. Most of them are uninspiring, but many have been decorated by artistic renegades or they are the million dollar properties with the architectural details that make me swoon, like walls of glass and steel, or archways leading into kitchens. A bit of exposed brick in the stairwell? My morning has been made. When I find a particularly dumpy home, I take a few minutes to determine how I would redesign it to take it from drab to fab! 

(I hate that I just said that.)

But then I decided I'm a decorating hypocrite because here I am judging everyone else's design decisions when I've never really designed a room in my own house. I just moved the furniture and bee bobs that I already owned into the house and there they have sat. I have not selected a theme for a room or a mood for a space or had a vision to bring to fruition. I've just tried to make things look nice with what I have. So I determined that it was time for me to choose one room and put my judgment where my mouth is.

I gave me two rules. 1.) Spend as little as possible. I have no income after June of this year, so it's not the time to be whimsical. 2.) Don't tell Brett. He always poo-poo's my ideas because he can't visualize them. He loves everything I've ever done to the house so I don't know why he doesn't trust me. If I told him I was going to paint our bedroom nearly black with orange accents, he'd have never left for Africa. 

So I waited for him to leave and then I high-tailed it to Sherwin Williams. Then I painted our bedroom nearly black with orange accents. 

For those still reading, I knew I wanted a moody, rich space that was sophisticated but still playful. I knew I wanted it to be very dark green. I love brass against dark green, and the warm wooden floors and golden accents meant rust and terracotta tones would really pop. Orange is one of my favorite colors. Brett says it's an obnoxious color, so obviously my plans fell into place quickly. I scoured the interwebs for the pieces and materials I needed. I had something very specific in mind for drapes and I could only find something similar at one internet store for a grand total higher than our mortgage payment. All in all, my room re-do would cost approximately $1,380.00 

Two of the benefits of being Chris and Nancy Union's daughter is a learned handiness from the former and a thriftiness from the latter. I took a good look at the elements I wanted to bring into the space and I worked out how to do it myself. I spray painted lamps and curtain rods, sewed my own velvet bottomed curtains, and DIYed some sisal lampshades. I regretted the lampshade efforts immediately (they took four and a half hours) but in the end, I spent a total $405 and that includes a big ole rug I stumbled upon that was too good to pass up. 

I snapped these grainy phone pictures just before Brett got home and threw all of his crap onto the perfectly styled dressers. But I'll have you know that he LOVES the room. He thought a real decorator had come in and done it - I promptly fixed that by showing him all of the jimmy-rigs I'd concocted to hold things in place. 

"Ahh, there's the touch of Lue," he said, wiggling the curtain rod holder that I couldn't quite drill into the stud. He admitted that if I had described my plans to him, he'd have never let me do it and he's very glad I did. He's made people come over to look at it.

Except for the sad-sack, grey duvet cover we use to protect our white comforter from the dogs, the room feels refreshed and somehow bigger than before. I was going to paint the ceiling dark green too but I got scared. I took a poll amongst friends and all but one thought it was a crazy decision but I'm still not totally dissuaded.

There's lots more I would like to do but I've decided to stop here. It's lovely - no need to go big.

When not working on the bedroom details, I was toiling away in the sunny room. That's the dirt-filled catch-all room where we run our little businesses, store our recyclables, and feed the pups. It's filty and chaotic and lacks storage. It's the one room in the house I don't bother to organize when friends come over. I simply ask for forgiveness instead. 

So I enlisted Popples Union to build two more bookshelves to sit on top of our existing bookshelf. I used the same green bedroom paint under the windows and on the bench seat that had no business ever being white in the first place. I pushed Brett's desk into the corner to create an actual "office area," and then filled the new bookshelves with all the crap that used to sit in piles on the floor. I ran out of time to paint the bookshelves before Brett got home but I promise I'll get to it. 

EisenEars really loves this room too. He doesn't even mind that I pushed him into the corner facing the wall. He's going to build some cabinet doors for the big new bookcase that Dad had to screw into the wall. "I hope you like it there because it's never moving." Hiding the crap behind cabinet doors will really make the room look clean. We can't wait - which is how we know we're aging. We're excited about cabinets.

The biggest change in this room is imperceptible to most eyes. The majority of the crap in the bottom bookshelf was stacked up under my desk; taxes from the last decade, Lux files, the printer, etc. I'm so happy to put my feet under my desk! This room also feels bigger now and oh so clean. 

Here's what the rooms looked like when Brett left.

Brett has only been home 5 days but both of us have been putting things back where they belong instead of piling them places. Turns out you want to keep nice looking spaces looking nice.