That’s better

Just a brief powder room peek.

Our experiment with metallic (copper-colored) paint didn’t work. The space is so small with a lot of trim, and apparently the treatment works better when you can make long strokes with the special roller instead of trying to work with a brush in small nooks and crannies. We were afraid it wouldn’t cover, so we never did the second metallic coat. Plus the color was just too dark and felt oppressive. So that was 2 base coats and 1 top coat of metallic paint (at $18 a QUART!) down the drain.

We have a small paint store in our basement, so I went shopping and found a simple “Heavy Cream” (from the kitchen ceiling) that works fine on the walls and ceiling. Matches the floor tile pretty well. We still have a couple bells & whistles planned for the walls, but at least this is a better base to work with than the copper.

Yes, paint is relatively cheap (except at $18 a quart) — but the labor is a killer. By the time I’m done putting the final coat on, I will have painted those little walls 7 times. Won’t be the first time we’ve painted and repainted and repainted. The kitchen had 3 different wall colors — plus we started out by painting all the woodwork white before we changed it all to cream. (Did I mention I hate painting woodwork worst of all? My next house will have stained trim — just like every house I’ve owned prior to this one.) We also tried 3 colors in the bathroom before landing on the current one as the lesser evil — not something we ever really liked, and lately we’ve started talking about repainting it. It’s been, what, 3 whole years? You know you’re in trouble when you have to start doing things over before you’re even close to getting everything done once.

On an unrelated note, we bought a cute (inexpensive) bistro set for our new patio area out back a couple weeks ago (20% off at Big Lots) and assembled it today while waiting for the paint to dry. Of course, the patio is still covered in snow. But since we’ve been battling chronic fatigue syndrome (the powder room strain) for months now, a raging bout of spring fever is a welcome change of pace.

Color is my day-long obsession, joy, and torment.
~ Claude Monet

A lot of little things…

…that don’t add up to any more than a lot of little things.

We’re getting a refund. I can’t believe it, since I didn’t even pay the full estimated quarterly taxes our accountant recommended (because I just couldn’t afford to). I was afraid I’d be penalized for not paying enough. So, I guess there’s an upside to having your income cut in half from one year to the next. Although I hope it doesn’t happen again this year.

We’re trying not to spend it in 15 minutes. Nothing like a little unexpected cash coming in to set all kinds of spending gears in motion. So far the plan is to make a hefty contribution to my IRA (since I couldn’t contribute anything last year) and stick the rest of it in the bank. Although this morning Mike mentioned something about setting a little aside for a vacation this year, since we didn’t go anywhere last year. I grunted and frowned (though inside I was screaming “YES YES YES” as I watched the commercial for Disney World on The Weather Channel).

I’m feeling a teensy bit optimistic. So far, business this year is looking up (crossing fingers, legs, and eyes, throwing salt over shoulder, knocking on wood, spitting à la My Big Fat Greek Wedding). I have several projects in the pipeline and the hint of a few more on the horizon. Amazing, given the sorry state of things in ’09. If it holds, I have to be diligent about setting extra aside to pay this year’s taxes, since I won’t be paying enough each quarter to cover having a normal year.

People (like me) are tired of being frugal. You can just feel it. Everywhere I go, people are out and about, shopping, eating, driving through Starbucks. We stopped being a frugal nation a long time ago, and trying to pick it up again, even in a terrible economy, is tough. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Our economy depends on people spending money (responsibly, not stupidly). Mike and I are pretty good about not frittering money away on little things, but we have been picking up a few unnecessaries here and there — like a very nice garden flag and holder (an American flag — with stitched stars and everything, made in China of course) for $9.99 at Home Depot and the watering can I’ve coveted for a few years, in orange, for $10 less than this at Marshall’s (I passed on it when they had a couple last year and wanted to kick myself. This year, I bought one when I saw it — they only had two.) I’m sure the money experts would say we shouldn’t buy what we don’t need (especially given my statement above about not putting anything in my IRA last year). I have no good answer. Sometimes my soul needs it, even if my brain doesn’t. Life is short — except for that part about being old and infirm with no one to care for us and no money for health insurance. I’m betting that part will seem far too long, whether or not I spend $25 on stupid stuff now.

I’m having a little fun dieting. As hard as it is to stick to a diet and exercise regimen (right now I should be doing Callanetics — more on that in a bit), I’m enjoying trying out new recipes. Like this amazing vegetable broth from The Splendid Table — no salt, tons of flavor. I used up 3 quarts in no time and just made another batch over the weekend. I’m using it in soups like this peppery Butternut-Parsnip Soup from Southern Living (my copy is an older one that omits the crockpot step, as the first commenter notes — not sure why that was added) and this Lemony Lentil Soup with Greens from Better Homes & Gardens. Part of my diet involves avoiding wheat and most dairy (I still cheat and have cheese now and then, but not milk, yogurt, or sour cream), so I’m experimenting with not using those ingredients (I’ve used soy milk for years, but now I even have Mike drinking vanilla soy with his cereal!). Eating out is the hardest — bar food just doesn’t lend itself to this kind of eating. My biggest cheat — still having a beer at our local hangout once a week. I tried their red wine once — it came ice cold, straight out of the fridge. YUCK!

I love my immersion blender. I had a banner year this past Christmas and scored 3 items on my wish list — 2 from the person who had my name in our family exchange (microplane graters and a pizza peel), and another — the blender — in the random grabbag. It’s great for making soups because it eliminates that annoying step where you have to process it in batches in a blender or food processor. Just stick the immersion blender in the pot and have at it. I love it. It also has a whip attachment that I’ve yet to try (I imagine you can’t make whipped cream from soy milk).

Callanetics works for me like nothing else does. Do you remember Callanetics? It was a hot exercise program in the ’80s and early ’90s. My sister had the book and I had (and still have) the video that promised “10 years younger in 10 hours.” It’s similar to Pilates and is the hardest exercise program I’ve ever done. My legs shake for a while after. But it’s also the only thing I’ve ever done (including NordicTrack, aerobics, step aerobics, walking, Pilates, yoga) that I can actually see results from in the mirror. I’ve done it off and on for years (the original program and the advanced version, Super Callanetics, when I work up to it). The ’80s workout clothes are a hoot (and I’m embarrassed to say I still have my own leotards, etc., from that era), but the results are anything but laughable. I love this program as much as I hate doing it. I should be doing it right now.

I just want to powder my nose already. We are still being kicked in the butt by our roughly 3′ x 4′ powder room project. It’s so close, I’m reaching for my compact, but not Mike. He has no impatience whatsoever. I just had to put 3 coats of stain (waiting a day in between) on the last bits of wood trim (I would have stopped at 1), and then he will spend 3 days putting on 3 coats of shellac. We started painting (of course, a special paint treatment instead of something normal), but it has all the makings of a disaster — more on that in a future post. Don’t be surprise if the room ends up being wallpapered instead of painted. I’m so tired of it. I’m sure it being finished will coincide with spring and the need to move outside again without accomplishing anything more indoors until next winter.

I bought a book. I’m embarrassed by my business Web site. I did it myself years ago in FrontPage — a program Microsoft doesn’t even sell anymore — and it desperately needs updating (or “updated” as I and everyone else in Pittsburgh would normally say). I can’t afford to pay someone to do it, so I’m going to attempt to learn CSS (how Web sites are properly constructed these days) by reading this book and doing it myself. I’m not very good at learning this way, so we’ll see how it goes. I’m only mentioning it because maybe committing the idea to virtual paper will force me to do it. I’ve always been more of a stick person than a carrot person.

That’s entirely enough little things for one day. Four hundred crunches and 400 leg lifts (for starters) aren’t going to happen while I’m sitting here typing.

My formula for living is quite simple.
I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night.
In between, I occupy myself as best I can.
~ Cary Grant

She Writes? Yeah, but not really.

I heard about She Writes through another blog I read (The Sister Project Thanks, Marion) and really wanted to join. So I did.

But I feel like an impostor. Because I keep Writing by Ear outwardly anonymous (only her hairdresser, family, and friends know for sure) (And I’m lying about my hairdresser), and She Writes asks that you use your full name, I joined using my professional creds as a longtime marketing writer. I listed my professional Twitter account and Web site on my profile. I would have rather listed this blog, but I’m more comfortable keeping business and personal separate — thinking about clients reading about my day-to-day life gives me the heebie jeebies, and I never want to have to censor what I write here because it might not be “professional.”

Oh, it’s legit enough. I’m a writer. I get paid to do it. But I’m not She Writes’ target audience. She Writes is for “real” writers. Writers who write books. Writers who get published. Writers who write stuff other people pay money to read.

The kind of writer I’d be, if only I had the ideas, the talent, the drive, the persistence, the passion…

It’s always weird to me that I don’t have all of that (any of that?) in me. I go to a bookstore and marvel at the output of all the people who DO — enough to fill every bookstore and every library in the whole wide world. People who had something to say and said it well enough that somebody else thought it was worth publishing. More than a few of them who just decided to write a book and sat down at their keyboards and did it. (Yes, I’m oversimplifying, but basically, that’s what “real writers” do. They have it in them, and they get it out!)

Why isn’t that me? You’d think it would be. I’ve been a reader all my life. I love to write. I’m good enough at it to make it a career. I love writing this blog even more. But a book? A story? A poem? A memoir? It’s just not in me. At least not now. (Not yet? It makes me feel better to never say never.)

I think part of it is I know just how hard it would be. The writing I do for work is hard enough, but I know how to do it, so I muddle through. That kind of writing — with plots and characters and dialogue and themes and subtexts — the kind of book I’d want to read — good lord, I get scared just thinking about it. Too scared to even try to learn because I’d hate myself if I just plain couldn’t do it well. That, I think, would be worse than not even trying, though I’m sure many out there would disagree. (Yeah, I know, “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” Me, I’d write the best damn book I’ve ever read.)

But for now, for now I’ll just marvel, through She Writes, at all the other women out there who aren’t scared, or even if they are, do it anyway. Beautifully. With persistence, passion, and tons of talent.

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have
the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise.
The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
~ Sylvia Plath

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