Aerial Shots and Realtors

Vin's Film.
'The One Hundred Mile Diet' is the film Vince is working on for his Digital Media class.  It's a 10 minute short in his favorite genre, horror.  If there is a film community in Craftsbury, we haven't found it.  Vince posted audition announcements at the local college.  7 pm on Wednesday.  Simpson Hall.  We planned to get there a few minutes early to get set up.  Vin had printed out several scripts, synopsis' and outlines for the group.  We parked and Vin realized he's forgotten his yellow notebook.  I 'ran' to the Hall to organize the auditionees while Vin sped back to the house to get the notebook.  Breathless, he burst into the hall, notebook in hand, where I was the only person.  We waited 15 minutes, admitted defeat and left.  Skunked.  Later we found out there had been a water dowsing workshop on campus at the same time.  Standing room only.

Rewriting.  Swapping out the three kids for the Grandmother within the confines of the newly constructed set-wall.

Vince convinced himself (and tried to convince me) that he needed aerial shots.

  See the camera?  That thing flies.

Of course Vince would write a script that had to be shot at night.

So, Vince had this great script and no actors.  He needed two or three kids and three adults.  He somehow managed to round up the three adults.  I volunteered myself at the last minute to take the place of the three kids by playing a cranky, senile Grandmother.  (Not sure how that makes me feel even though it was my idea)  With peppermint/tea tree Uncle Roy Foot Powder in my hair, my cane, temporary limp and new knees, I was pretty convincing. 

I took the place of three children in Vince's film.

More School.
Did I tell you about the Film MFA Program in Ohio?  The one we got in to and had to accept or reject by April 24? 

Writing.
So far my NPR 'Three Minute Fiction' piece hasn't made it to the NPR website as one of the favorites.  When the judges are done reading the 6,000 submissions in a few weeks, they'll choose a winner so I still have a chance.  Vince thinks I'll win, isn't that sweet?

Eating.
Went to Russell and Janet's for supper tonight.  Janet is 89 and Russell is 86.  We talked about a lot of different things.  Like, Janet needing a new bike, one that's easier for her to lift to the bike rack on the back of the car than the one she has now.

House.
When I asked the realtor in Athens, Ohio how old the roof on a particular house was she said, "probably not real old".
When I asked her about the age of the furnace she said, "not real old and not real new".
When I asked her about what utilities bills ran a month she said, "probably not too much".
Now there is someone I could really trust.

Me And The Knee(s)

Vince put little piles of hay around the yard for Max and he'd go from one to the other all day

Diane at the post office said it was a lovely DAY and I said "only 11 more DAYs until I get my new knees".  I can't even have a conversation these days without relating it to my knees!*

My big day went from being March 12 to March 15 when I told my surgeon I'd decided I wanted to do both knees at the same time.  He caught himself midway through a sigh of exasperation and rolled with it.  It would be like someone who was getting 50 cycling jerseys, during our VOmax days, calling to say they wanted to double their order.  He should be psyched. 

The thought of having no legs for a while is a bit overwhelming, albeit all part of the 'big adventure', but when I went to my 'joint class' and the surgeon started telling the group of 30 or so (the hip people were in there with us) that we had to stop taking vitamins a week before surgery; anti-inflammatories, 10 days before; no dental work, even cleanings, for 6 months following.....then there were the catheters, infections, EKGs, blood tests, special soaps........I knew I wouldn't be able to keep track of all that stuff twice so even though I may have a tough first couple of weeks, I have no second thoughts about 'doing' both.

Whether it was my meloxicam (the anti-inflammatory that is like the one we give Max) or that my knee has been swollen so hard for so long that it's all stretched out, my pain has become pretty tolerable and I've been able to ski almost everyday (skiing is easier than walking) so I hope no one spent too much time feeling sorry for me thinking I was just sitting on the couch.**

I'm not sure I'd ever really stood and looked at myself in a full length mirror before (mostly because we didn't have a full length mirror until now) but I wanted to see what my knees looked like head on.  I noticed my right knee was a bit knocked and my right hip was a tad skewed.  Hmmmm.   I was pretty sure, even without a mirror to prove it back then, that I used to be straight up and down.  I dug out a photo of me a few years ago standing on a beach in a little bathing suit and you could see that, sure enough, I was straight.  So.  I put on the same little bathing suit, stood on the concrete floor instead of the beach and took a photo of my skewed hip and knee.  I ganged the before and after shots and sent them to the surgeon.  For my own peace of mind I need to send them.  I was going to email them but thought he might delete them as porn.  Before my great idea of wearing the same little bathing suit, for continuity and a straight forward comparison, I was thinking I could take an au natural shot, encompassing the hip and knee, then photoshop a four leaf clover or something over the crotch area.  Whatever...I don't think I'm going in for my fix a minute too soon.

I used to have a thigh muscle

*I started another blog.  A journal.  Just knee talk.  Boring unless your knees hurt a lot and even then it's not all the interesting.
**how does all that food get UNDER the cushions?

Winter. Movies. Knitting

My view from the couch when it's snowing.  The ski trail is in the middle of the picture.

Snow.
Here in Craftsbury, when people (me usually included) 'pray for snow', it's to make the skiing better.  Today I needed it to cover up the ashes and big hole along the driveway before Vince came home.  It's not that I would never tell him I went off the road but I wanted a chance blame it on the car before he sees the hole and assumes it was my fault.  Even if I would have had my right hand on the steering wheel instead of in the potato chip bag, my rented Ford Focus would have ended up in that snowbank.  

When Vince takes the car to school, I'm carless.  So, one sunny, clear roaded  (I'm sure that's not a word) day I rented a car for a month without thinking to ask about snow tires.  Today as I crutched (I'm sure that's not a word either ) up our 200 yard driveway with a backpack full of groceries to swap for a bucket of ashes and a snow shovel (it worked pretty well as a crutch actually), I knew I wouldn't forget to ask about the tires next time.

 All dug out and parked at if nothing had happened, I called the rental car people to see if I could get a car with snow tires, he said that no rental cars in Vermont had snow tires, 'it's the law' (now that sounds a little odd) and that the car was 'fine' since it had all-season tires.  I asked him if he wanted to come and drive the car out of the ditch.

Rental car with miraculous go-anywhere all season tires.

Customer service.
Our 'Six Feet Under'  Netflix addiction got to the point where the nights we didn't have one to watch were almost unbearable.  Pathetic, huh?  We finally decided the suffering was just too much and it was worth four dollars a month to upgrade our membership from one dvd at a time to two.  I clicked on 'my account' and noticed I'd been paying 15.99/month (one dvd + streaming) and not the 7.99/month (one dvd) for which I had signed up.  Of course we had never used the streaming because we didn't know we had it and wouldn't have anyway because we both like the anticipation of that red envelope in our mailbox and it being as close as we'll ever be again to the thrill of our photos being in at the drug store.  Evidently during the Netflix fiasco last summer, if you didn't say "don't add streaming," they added it, and since they had your credit card, they charged it.  They just didn't tell you.  So.  For 4 months I'd been paying 15.99 instead of the 7.99 I'd agreed to be paying.  I figured it would be as easy to get my money back as it was to upgrade my plan but she told me she could 'only credit me for three months and I was lucky because until recently they could only credit one month'.  I think that's stealing.  Shouldn't I be making up the rules in this case?


aforA.
I haven't knit since I finished a sweater for my girlfriend's baby that I never saw her wear but I'm finally over the knitting self-confidence issues enough to pick up my needles again.
"afghans for Afghans is a humanitarian and educational people-to-people project that sends hand-knit and crocheted blankets and sweaters, vests, hats, mittens, and socks to the beleaguered people of Afghanistan".  

I'm unreasonably proud of the hat I knit to contribute.

January 2012, World Service delivers our wool gifts to girls and boys in Kabul!

Little bits.
The emergency room doctor had conjunctivitis (pink eye) and kept dabbing his weeping eye with a piece of toilet paper.  Should he be in there?

I have a new favorite movie this week....'Rocket Science'.  About a stuttering boy who joins his high school debate team.

My friend Fred bought a bail jar of pennies at an antique store the other day and there were 1157 pennies in it.

Did you notice?  Nothing about my knee.

Hear Goes Nothing

Max is ready for hunting season.

Had Vince and I been accepted to the Binger Film Lab in Amsterdam I would have had some exciting news but we didn't so I don't.  We knew we were under-qualified the whole time (three weeks) we were filling out the application but thought maybe we'd fulfill some obscure admissions requirement quota for them.  Guess not.  It would have been fun to spend 4 months in Amsterdam rubbing elbows with Spike Lee but what about Max?  We figured he wouldn't have liked flying so we'd have had to take a boat.  And then once in Amsterdam, while he may have enjoyed all the smells, but he wouldn't have enjoyed sitting in an apartment all day just waiting for us to come home.  I want to cry just thinking about it.

Our Christmas cactus has one blossom this year which is one more than it had last year.

Our default location is Vermont (we go north for the winter) where we are attempting to feel productive by doing at least one thing on the house everyday.  Vin's week long cinematography workshop at 'Maine Media'  didn't help our timetable any but whatever.*    We are about 2 task-weeks behind but stay closer to our schedule better than my online Spanish 'A Word A Day' people.  Yesterday's word was zanahoria which means carrot and when they used it in a sentence I'm pretty sure they used it incorrectly...like I would know.

Kitchen lights from Etsy.

Last week Vince installed the lights above the counter which should count for at least a week of projects but I'd never tell him that.  Me? I order things and then figure out where in the neighborhood UPS has dropped them off.   We're going to finish the fireplace as soon as the beam we picked out for the mantle is dry.  The guy at the mill left a message saying it's at 25 and he wants it to be at 10 which doesn't really tell us much since we don't know when it was at any other numbers.


Riding and Dogs:
1.  If I'm really quiet I can get past the two nasty dogs on Center Road without them chasing me.  They've never bitten me or hit my front wheel which surprises me every time.   Today my plan was to try holding my breath until I got even with the 'Save the Lowell Range' sign on their lawn and then sprint.  They'd never know.  Sprawled on the sidewalk with their backs toward me, I sneaked by.  My timing was perfect.  And then I sneezed.

2.  There was no way to tell from the map how many unleashed dogs would be on the new loop I was riding that day.  Near the end of the ride, having outrun a dozen poised and ready-to-pounce mutts, I started to let down my guard.  As I approached the last dirt road crossing, out of the corner of my eye I saw the biggest dog of the day coming up full speed on my left.  He cut right in front of me, just missing my front wheel, and that's when I noticed I'd been chased by a goat.  Swear to God.


Other News.

Aunt Marlene (holding prints from her film camera), Vince, and Uncle Roy at Good Life last Christmas day.

•Dad is already down at 'Good Life' the age qualified/55+ (Vince and I are 55) 'resort community' in Mesa Arizona for the winter.  He told me he got an ipad that's "really more than an ipad" because when the guy in the store talked to it, "it could write what he said in any language".  Sold.

•I'd always wanted to be able to whistle but never could.  A few weeks ago my jaw shifted a bit and now I whistle a little when I talk so be careful for what you wish.

•I don't know what made me think of this but the day we left Metaline Falls I was outside swallowing the last of my tea and with it the grasshopper that had sneaked into my mug...so when I say there are no bugs here, it's not entirely true.

Enough of trying to make 'nothing' interesting.


* I meant to grab my credit card from the wallet (we share one wallet) before he left but didn't so my week was spent seeing how long I could go in the Vermont countryside with no car and no money.

Humor Me

I wanted to do another post while I was still 54 and I am still 54 even though my Spanish classmates think I'm already 55.  On day one we had to announce our birthdays to the rest of the class in Spanish.  I was first and said Mayo cinco (May 5 with the words in the wrong order) when what I meant to say (or thought I was saying) was Mayo quince (May 15, again, the words are in the wrong order).  Everyone was so psyched that my birthday was Cinco de Mayo that I just let it go.

Looking out at the wooded hills from a sun warmed granite step outside our Vermont kitchen I say to myself "it's a good thing I like the color green".  It's hard to believe there can be so much green.  A million different shades, textures and layers.  Everyday it's greener.  This is where I decide to write just one more post where I pretend I'm in Costa Rica and be done with it.

Since I've been back I've been asked what a day in Costa Rica was like a bunch of times.....

,

Jose' lives at Rainsong , the local animal sanctuary, and has one arm after trying to swing across the road using a powerline.

It's 5:30.  The rooster wakes up the monkey and the monkey wakes up me.  It's hot but not as hot as it will be by 7 so I ride out to Cabo Blanco, the first ever nature preserve in Costa Rica, and back...about an hour-ten.   The fat cold stream of water from my shower head feels good as I rinse the dust from my haphazardly tanned body.  A hardy bowl of oatmeal and almonds prepared in the communal kitchen should hold me over until I get another chance to eat.   Then 4 hours Spanish.  Because 'they' just keep moving you forward according to the amount of time you've been at the school and not according to how much you actually know, in my 4th week I ended up in Spanish Level 2.  The nightmare began when I got to class on that 4th Monday before my sole classmate, Simon, and Edgar, the professor, started talking to me in Spanish....just Spanish...just me and him.  Even after 3 weeks it still sounded like one long word and didn't take long for either of us to realize that I wasn't Spanish Level 2 material.   Instead of concentrating on the content of the questions he was asking all I could think was "Where is Simon?"  Finally Simon got there just in time to hear the last question directed at me.  I answered in broken, but only, Spanish, "Last night I studied my Spanish."  Edgar and Simon laughed which was OK because the focus then shifted to Simon.  Later I asked Simon what the question was....."Do you have children?"  I somehow made it through the week and Spanish 2 partly by making sure I never got to class before Simon again.

Then.  Back on my bike and out to Cabo Blanco again with a stop at the Cabuya Bakery on the way back where I'd sit and read a chapter in my book while sipping on a club soda with ice and no lemon.*
Getting back to the school/hotel on oatmeal fumes, I had just enough time for the fat stream of cold water rinse and an egg sandwich or guacamole and chips prepared, again, in the communal kitchen (the avocados were always perfect) before surfing.   Depending on where we were surfing that day, our surf time from strapping the boards to the top of the van or hiking to the beach was about 4 hours.  While most of the women surfed with bikinis and complained about bruises, abrasions and having to take days off or quit early, with my board shorts, rash guard, knee bands and wool socks attached to my ankles with electrical tape (it wasn't my age that set me apart from the rest of the group) without even thinking about it, I was the last one out of the water every day.** 

After another cold water rinse, different (though not clean) clothes, I was relaxed and ready for the highlight of my day....an hour Skype to Vince where we would talk about nothing really.  We would both get hungry about the same time and hang up.  He would heat some of the lasagna I'd made for him (out of love and guilt) before I left and I would go to El Sano Banano for the same thing every night, (lettuce, heart of palm, avocado, olive oil, chips, guacamole, sometimes grilled chicken, club soda with ice and no lemon*) and either eat it during the nightly movie***, while reading my book or studying my Spanish. 

And that was it...everyday except Wednesdays when we had only 2 hours of Spanish and I could go to the Montezuma Hotel for a club soda with ice and no lemon, sit, look out at the beach and write postcards that I would give to the bookstore owner that would bring them to a town with a post office.

*By the end of my stay I was really really good at ordering in Spanish at the Cabuya bakery and El Sano Banano.
**In atypical fashion I returned home after 4 weeks without a scratch.
***the nightly movies were current and shown in English with English sub-titles because of the street noise.

Lots of pictures with the free camera....


OK.  It's time to move on and while composing this post I did turn 55.

I knew if I kept looking I'd find some great roads for riding.

And more great roads.

I came down a hill on my bike, the cows were in the middle of the road drinking and didn't move.  I had to weave through them.

Remember the mangoes everywhere that I was telling you about?

The Montezuma Hotel cafe'.  High ceilings with fans.  Open air and on the beach.  I felt like I'd turn around and see Ernest Hemmingway sitting there.

A street scene.  No Starbucks.

Another street scene.

More of the street.

Last one and another place that sells mango smoothies.

The End for now.

OK I'm Ready For Winter

It's still really hot so I don't mind that the shower is only cold water but when the ceiling fan quit, I was bummed.  I pantomimed to the housekeeper that the fan wasn't spinning.  She got up on my bed, gave a blade a whack and voila.....moving air.  Easy enough. 

My humble room

Yesterday, sitting in the van in front of a new break/beach with a rock bottom, the four of us...I guess you could stretch the definition and call us 'advanced beginners'...were all pretty nervous.  Guiermo our Uraguanian surf instructor was sitting deep in thought, looking out at the water and we weren't going to move until he did.  Expecting to hear some deep wave assessment insight I asked,

"What are you thinking Guiermo ?"  

"I thinking where I going to park" he answered.

The Weekend.

There is no getting around the riding being hot and hilly (I'm saving the flat 15 miler to the bakery and national park for weekdays) although the morning rain made it cooler and less dusty for about a half hour.  I was on my bike today for a long time and not because I went a long way but because I walked some of the hills.  At the beginning of the ride, if I'd hear someone coming, I would act like I had just gotten off to let them by, stand there while they passed and then act like I was getting back on my bike until they were out of site.  After a while I decided even that was too much extra effort and would just keep walking.  As much as I was suffering, I still really really enjoyed being out.  I stopped for club soda and decided to enjoy it in the ambiance of the little store.  As the uncomfortable silence became louder I said to the clerk "Las olas grande" ("the waves big") which is what you say when you don't know the language well enough to say "How about this weather?".  She gave me a confused look and answered with something about the moon.

Later while passing a group of 4 or 5 12-ish year old kids on their bikes the front girl stood up and said "Vamos" which I happened to know meant "Let's go."  

On the same ride 2 dogs came out and chased me.  I yelled "go home" a couple of times and they didn't.  Of course not, they only speak Spanish.

Sharing the road

More sharing the road

Other News.

While my surf today was spent working on turning...on purpose, Carly from Vancouver was at the other end of the beach letting the board get between the wave and her.  Wop.  Off to Cobano to the Emergency Room with a sign above the door that says "Lifeguard Station", then across the street for an x-ray at the vet clinic.  Nothing was broken.

I was reading my book.  I don't have a bookmark but I've been having pretty good luck opening the book to where I left off each time.  Today I opened it to where I thought I left off and read the first line "The bullet that killed Laurie..."  Shit.  Wrong place.  Last I knew Laurie was on a raft trip.

To be here you have to not mind being dirty.

I've never enjoyed icing my knee as much as I've enjoyed icing it here.

There has to be an easy way to get out of this hammock.

Sorry about the photo quality but it's what you get with a digital camera you get free with a hundred dollar HP printer.

 Presentation is everything

Breakfast and more sharing

Hola

Back in November I thought I'd be ready to leave winter by April 10.  I'd done at least one race (make that 'JUST one race')*, skied everyday and was sure the snow would be long gone.  Instead of the snow being long gone, the skiing was the best of the season (not to mention we'd just gotten running water in the kitchen and season 4 of Mad Men).  Suddenly I couldn't remember why I had decided to go to a Spanish and surfing school in Costa Rica for 5 weeks.  I've always wanted to learn another language so I remember that being a big reason for my decision...and  just to see what it was like, I wanted to go somewhere that I could surf everyday.  Realizing the snow was going to be around for awhile, I looked into shortening my trip or not going all together but it was too complicated so my reason for going became not the I wanted to learn Spanish and surf everyday but that it was too difficult not to go. 

A breakfast of my favorite food at the DC airport

Security at the Tambor airport

The trip started with a 4 AM hotel wake-up call that never came.  Luckily my bladder was unbearably full at 4:15 AM.  A breakfast of my favorite food in the DC airport at 7:15 AM set me up for the rest of the day.  The big flight to San Jose was good and I managed to hyperventilate my way though the white-out in the 12 seater to Tambor before the 45 minute taxi ride to my destination in Montezuma.

hotel/school lobby

At the desk of the funky open air hotel lobby (which is also the school) I learned that there wasn't a room for me.  At least I thought that was what I was being told.  All I could pick out of what sounded like one long Spanish word from the person behind the desk was Chica and manana over and over.  I don't know what I was thinking when I registered for a double room and a roommate.....I stood for a moment contemplating the scenarios a roommate could add to my trip and requested a single room.  The desk person seemed satisfied and put me in a room all to myself.

 

This is a whole bike.  2' x 2' x 8"  Fooled you airline people.

After struggling 3 and a half hours in bad light, 100 degrees, 4:15 AM brain and trying to make no noise in a room where the wall didn't go all the way to the ceiling, I decided that I would dismantle what I had managed to put together on my bike, (I had never seen so many cables) put it back in it's case, and forget about it while I rented a 50 pounder at $15 a day for the time I was there.  Then, along came Jose' with his blond waist length dreadlocks and 30 seconds later I had a working machine.   The universal language of bike fanatics and derailleur cables....

I was a little uncomfortable about keeping my computer in a room that has a just-for-show lock but found a fool-proof hiding place so I could relax.  I asked the stranger that was url-surfing (not to be confused with ocean-surfing) in the hammock next to me where he kept his computer.  I must look trustworthy because he told me he hid it in his room under his backpack.......which is the same fool-proof place I was hiding mine.  I don't know, but if I was going to steal a computer from a hotel room, I know where I'd look first.

Mile 5 of my twice daily ride.  Notice my fully assembled working bike.  If you want, you can look closely and see the couplings holding the frame together.  They're the reason it fits into that little case.

The inside of mile 5.

The riding here is mostly HILLY!!! and it's just too hot to enjoy HILLY!!!.  But.  There's a spectacular 7 mile flat road along the ocean with a local bakery at mile 5 and a National Park at mile 6 and a half that I can put up with.

Our Spanish classroom.

The school is a safe environment for a solo female traveler.  Learners of all ages (I'm still the oldest but not my that much) from all over the world make a pretty good group.  I thought that I looked the same age as everyone else here until one German college co-ed said that she hoped to be doing things like this when she was my age.  I did have to ask a few classmates (that I see several times a day) to respect the 'no smoking sign' (wow, did that news travel fast).  I assumed they would snub me and smoke anyway so I'd have to drop out or something but it seems to be OK enough and the smoking stopped.  It's not that I don't think anyone should smoke here if they want to (however if I was king there would be no smoking :) ) and it's good for me to put myself in a situation where I have to lighten-up to survive...it's just that it was 3 folks right outside my no-option open window.

I can deal with monkeys waking me at 5 am since I get to drift asleep to slapping Pacific waves.   I'm still not sure I'll ever speak Spanish.  The other night I was secretly congratulating myself about my Spanish progress until the waiter asked me how my meal was and I proudly said 'bonita' which means pretty.  That being said, the radio was playing in the supermarket and I understood a few words which was a few words more than I'd ever understood before.  So now I know that, even though I'm not sure what, there is something going on in Montezuma at 8:30 tonight.

You don't have to bump your lip very hard with a surfboard to split it (the lip) which is my only injury.

 See lip.

Yesterday Jim, Greg, Brandon and I went to a new-for-us local beach in a noisy, dusty, rattletrap of a van.  Afterwards, tired with salty board shorts and hair, a few new abrasions, listening to salsa music sneaking through the static on the radio and bouncing along on a dusty dirt road...ever seen the movie 'Endless Summer?'  I'm still no Laird Hamilton on the surfboard but after a week of surfing, I'm still sitting here still basically uninjured (maybe I shouldn't have said that?).  I wonder if Laird has salt water running out of his nose when he bends over for hours after being in the ocean ?

The air is thick with the smell of mangos.

Now,  if I can just lift myself out of this hammock.

*Race note:  When the pre-race wax-of-the-day chatter consisted of wax numbers instead of the wax colors I was used to, I knew I was probably in trouble.  The gun went off and soon I found myself surrounded by shoulder height 10 year old boys that I'm sure they were really fast.

I'm writing like I don't miss Vin and Max BUT I DO.

Coloring My World

Even though I don't really mind sleeping on the floor and doing dishes in the bathroom, the other day we got to thinking that it might be fun to finish something in the house other than the home theater and multi-room stereo system.  Since the mudroom is small and it's use clearly defined, we decided it was a good place to start.  Have you ever played that game where everyone takes off their shoes and makes a big pile out of them in the middle of the room?  Someone says 'GO', everyone runs to the pile and the first person to find their shoes and put them on is the winner?  Our mudroom reminded me of that game.  Anyway.   We'd virtuously saved some of the 100-something year old lumber* from the house's original kitchen and turned it into a really heavy shelving unit using ski boots to determine the space between the shelves.   We got a ceiling light with a metal cage around the bulb so we shouldn't break anymore light bulbs with our skis and I painted the walls the same happy happy blue that my friend Tina used to paint her kitchen.  I was positive that the blue was the perfect color for that space until I saw our neighbor Nancy's yellow mudroom but then after a few days I decided again that the blue was perfect.  I don't know why I obsess so about paint colors when it's not that hard paint over a color that looks way different on a whole wall than it did on a little chip.

More on painting.

So you have the unfinished baseboard nailed to the wall.  It needs priming and two coats of paint.   But the wall is already painted and the floor is finished which means you can't let the paint can't get anywhere but on the baseboard because if you get it on the painted wall you have to paint that part of the wall again and when you do that you you'll likely get wall paint on the baseboard that will then have to be painted over again.  Then, if you get paint on the floor, you can't paint over it because the floor isn't painted.  The paint just soaks in and looks ugly.  Ceiling painting problems are similar to baseboard painting problems except everything is overhead with a ladder which adds to the normal discomfort that goes along with just plain painting. 

We got a price to paint the ceilings and baseboards in the Vermont house.  The price was 3 times what we thought it would be and 5 times what we wanted it to be. 

Stalemate. 

It took a couple days and several attempts to get rogue paint glops off of the concrete floor for us to decide that having someone paint the baseboards and ceilings was worth almost any amount of money.

Ceiling and baseboard painters

Holiday News:

• Vin an I did our Christmas the other night.  A pile of priority mail envelopes holding surprises were arranged around the bottom of a bulbed coat tree that served as our balsam fir.  I made a pizza and wore a skirt that kind of hid the watermelon that used to be my knee when it wasn't riding up the front of my tights with static electricity.   Halfway through the ceremony, Vince surprised me with 'LOST, season 3' and then I surprised him 'LOST, season 3.

Our Christmas coat rack.  For at least 20 years, my high school (long-time!!) friend Linda has given me one of these hand-blown glass ornaments from Sun Valley at Christmas.  Actually, she forgot this year.  "Linda! Where's my ornament?"

• Since we hadn't seen our O'Connell niece and nephew for the holidays, Vin and I recently drove to Boston to treat them to a special post holiday-time dinner.  I found a Zagat's 5-star vegetarian eatery that sounded incredible.   It ended up not only being vegetarian....but vegan.  And not only vegan...but raw.   Vin ordered pizza and was surprised when it came with a...somehow dried because it couldn't be baked and still be considered raw...cracker crust.  My sister-in-law asked to have her portobello soup heated up a bit and they couldn't/wouldn't because raw-law states that nothing can be over 102 degrees.  Luckily a banana-chocolate shake (make that 2) fit all the 'raw' rules and supplemented our 15 year old meat-eating snowboarder nephew's raw-vegan sushi.  If we'd been raw diners I'm sure we would have given the place 5 stars but we're not raw diners.

The whole house looked like this.  I kind of liked it.

White can look OK too.  (Vince's tilework)

Messy house.  Pretty colors.

I'm not a blue person so I don't know how this happened.

More.

A record 10 'Avatar' enthusiasts* and lasagna lovers watched 'Blue Crush' last night at our weekly dinner and a movie night and pretty much maxed out our theater (living room).  Even our overflow area (hallway) was full but thanks to Kim who always brings her own chair and the new 150 pound tree stump-end table, everyone had a place to sit


If our house was a meal we would be about half way through dessert. 
1. The main level concrete floor has 2 coats of clear finish on it and is a masterpiece that no one in the lasagna group noticed so maybe is doesn't look as incredible as I think it does.
2. Vin hung chains from the gutters.  His intent was to divert rainwater while looking chic (we saw it in a magazine).  So far they only work part of the time which is when it is not raining and they are just looking chic.

3. I love our sliding barn door-y bathroom door mounted on inline skate bearings and am hoping that someday I won't even hear Vince mumbling that he'd rather have an in-swing door every time he slides it shut.  The bedroom doors are in-swing and chic because of the strip magnet (like a shower door) that sucks and holds them shut.   The closet doors are still pretend.

My Kitchen.
9 feet 2 inches is a perfect sized kitchen for someone who doesn't want a microwave or coffee maker.

Visitors:
Tim (of MikWright fame) and Boyd (of having a 40th birthday party that lasted a whole week fame) showed up one day after school.  Flying first class from Charlotte, they found martinis and acupuncture in Nelson.  Hiking trails and Gilbert Grape in Metaline Falls. 

Our friend Eric came to visit. He's in the truck...the one with the cap.  We started following each other in Massachusetts.  Now he's in Bozeman, except for last week when he was in Metaline Falls.


* at the last minute we decided  that Avatar was too long.