Umm…updates?

Woah. Or woe. But in either case, nothing much has been happening here on my little blog for quite some time. But just in case you think that means nothing much has been happening here at my little house, let me assure you that’s not the case!

First of all, I finished the upstairs bathroom. While I love the whole concept of a houseblog, it does strike me that the more I’m actually doing on the house, the less time I have to write about it. Good to know.

So, yes, bathroom is done (well, okay, there’s still the oddly configured electrical plate that apparently requires a visit now to a special electrical store becasue neither Home Depot nor Lowe’s stocks it, but whatever. Oh, and there’s a wee bit of scraping to do around the shower curtain rod where I inadvertently got gobs of blue paint on the metal.  My father asked me why I didn’t simply take the shower rod down. I stared at him blankly. Who does he think I am?)

But yes, it fulfills my personal sense of completion and it’s a joy to walk into it every morning. After four coats of paint, I did finally get the right color and learned that it’s *always* worth it to change it. Otherwise you’ll regret it every single day, and c’mon, that’s just too much regret to handle when you’re in the loo.

Channeling Crocket?

It’s the end of June, which means it’s the beginning of my annual painting frenzy.  On the docket for the summer:finish upstairs bathroom and kitchen.  Pronto!

So, I thought I was being all smart and professional this time. I spent a lot of time with paint chips. I even practiced great restraint and bought only a small sample of the color I thought I wanted. I even tried painting a sample section of the wall. But now, well, now I just don’t know. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but is it worth spending another day to make it right? I’d wanted something a bit quieter, I think.  But this is kinda Key West.  Or maybe Miami.  Do I just live with it, roll up my sleeves and wear a lot of white linen?

Here’s the before and the now (with Fountain Blue):

I thought my house was small…

I’ve always been a fan of small. I prefer small fruit, small spaces, small plates.  Plus, I’ve always loved houses-to-go—like little trailers. But this takes the cake! Imagine hooking this baby up to my VW and heading out West to see the Grand Canyon? After a day of hiking,  I could come back to home-sweet-home. Plus, best of all, a sleeping loft!! Love, love, love.

Pretty

Wear & Tear=Repair

I spent this weekend working on random house projects. One thing led to another, which led to another and so on.

• Tracked down source of the bad smell (which ended up being rotten food stuck deep inside the Kong) and cleaned out the refrigerator. Tossed old jar of sundried tomatoes, kept expired (but still unopened) bottle of pepperoncini, finally scrubbed away the maple syrup that’s been on that top shelf for, like, ever.
• Opened windows, broke window; fixed stuck bedroom window (after consultation with neigbor who–though he lifts weights–also couldn’t open stuck window. Used two pieces of 2×4 as levers and..presto!)
• Re-attached garden hose and turned on the spigot. Which still seems to work, though there is some leakage.
• Figured out how to load staple gun. Loaded it.
• Re-stapled bowed and bent chicken wire around the garden. No more Daisy hangout.
• Set up old picnic bench. Need to paint a nice shade of celadon or apple green.
• Took out Weber grill. Decided backyard was beginning to look like a yardsale. Stored grill back in garage.
• Weeded front flower bed. Took chicken bone out of Daisy’s mouth.
• Made black bean soup and added vegetarian chipotle sausage to it.  Burned mouth.

Spring Lamb

We often don’t know how far we’re willing to go for someone we love. But then one day you find yourself with a dog who has food allergies and the next thing you know, you’re boiling a $27 lamb loin for her supper while you eat rice and beans for yours.

I’m a vegetarian cook for lots of reasons, but the top reason is that I can’t stand to touch raw flesh. So last night I had to grin and bear it as I cleaned the loin and put it in the pot.  After an hour, I pulled it from its vat of fat, let it cool, and sliced it into small chunks for my girl. Interesting how her grass-eating and vomiting seemed to cease while she waited attentively at my feet for her supper. I left the windows open to air out the smell of greasy butchering and looked fondly at her small green bag of California Natural kibble.  The vet has put her on three days of home-cooked lamb and potatoes, then we’ll slowly re-introduce her dry food.

Until then, it’s lamb, baby, lamb.

Legal Love

I love my little house here in upstate New York, but I’ll always be a Vermonter at heart.  And here’s just another reason to feel proud of my home state–it’s involved in a “watershed moment” in history! I love it.

Spring Musings

It turns out that I’m actually a morning person. I had my suspicions that the wee hours of the day might be for me, though I fought it for a long time. But there’s nothing like house-breaking a dog and a few writing deadlines to make you jump out of bed before the alarm goes off. So now that the deadlines are finished and I’ve trained Daisy to go outside and come back in for a morning nap from 5:30-7:00, I find I have a delicious window of free time. It’s enough time to make coffee, put away dishes, turn on the MacBook and do some writing. Granted, it’s a small window of time, but I’m finding that I’m actually more productive in short limited bursts than long infreqent blocks of time.  Duh. Why has it taken me so long to figure this out?

Speaking of short bursts, I went to stay with a friend in NYC for one night and two whirlwind days of eating, shopping, and getting lost. We discovered a mighty fine vegetarian kosher Indian restaurant in Murray Hill called Pongal where we ate crispy spinach fritters and dosas. Who knew? I’d spent time in mid-town before, but I didn’t realize that there were cute little neighborhood cafes tucked away. Like Penelope, for instance. Did I mention the Nutella french toast and the egg and cheese and pesto on a croissant? Delish. Plus, a great place to see the up-and-coming next generation of financiers in their Burberry coats and Tods.

So now I’m home and my crocuses are up and my tulips appear poised for action.  Fingers crossed that we don’t get any of that snow because I refuse to shovel anything that’s not dirt.

Twu Love

California Dreamin’

I’m back from six days in San Francisco and still adjusting to life on the east coast. Or rather, I should say I’m adjusting to my own house again after a glorious hotel, my own kitchen after restaurant delicacies, and teaching my students instead of hitting unknown streets in search of urban adventures.  What does all of this mean? It means I’m back to making my own coffee and my own bed.  I’m back to writing on the board and reading drafts and attending department meetings and answering emails.

Needless to say, my head is not back quite yet and I find myself dreaming about Vietnamese coffee (slow brewed over an inch of sweetened condensed milk), Chez Panisse (my own personal pilgrimage to the foodie mecca), steep hills bustling with people from all over the world, the sounds of sea lions in the early morning down at the pier past Fisherman’s Wharf, the chocolate cupcake from Miette bakery, the crispy shredded papaya salad at The Slanted Door, the mango crab wonder at The Naked Fish, the dry martinis at Tosca, I could go on, but it’s making me too hungry and nostalgic for a city that isn’t mine.

But the best part was re-connecting with old friends from both high school and college and the comforting fact that everyone–to the person–looked exactly the way I remembered them. It’s nice to know that even though we’re getting older (and wiser?), we’re still the same and we’re still friends and I can still handle my gin.

So it’s back to the grind for a bit now. And probably time to check in on my house trap and figure out the paint color I want for the bathroom and maybe even clean out the garage so I can find the garden rake.  But until then, I’m going to think about fresh spring rolls and the shumai place in Chinatown and the French cafe on Bush Street with the strong dark coffee and buttery croissants served warm in a basket lined with linen.