Life is Sweet

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Can I Have a Do-Over?

Seriously, yesterday was THAT bad.

It really started back on Friday. Remember how thrilled I was at my new tile-cutting skill? Bill and I were eagerly anticipating the end result of our hours of labor. The floor was looking great, and all we had to do was grout. How hard could that be? ~~Date~~ Friday night was spent intently working away on our common goal to git 'er done. Our ever-so-helpful neighbor, Blair, came over to assist once again. I was in charge of the buckets and wringing out the sponges, Bill was grouting, and Blair was sponging up afterwards. It was such a great system. We followed the instructions on the back of the bag of grout mix precisely. (I know, I know... what were we thinking... tiling from the instructions on the back of the bag?) This is where we got a little hung up:

Lightly clean off grout with damp sponge. CAUTION: DO NOT OVER WATER.

Wait 2 hours.

Remove haze with cheesecloth or sponge.

Once we were finished up to the "wait 2 hours" step, it was late, and the swim meet of the following morning would be upon us before we knew it (more on that another day... soon). So we selected to postpone the "remove haze" step until after the meet. 2 hours -- 16 hours -- what's the difference.

Serious mistake. Our porous tile had soaked up the grout haze like a man dying of thirst in a desert oasis. The haze was NOT coming off. And the grout, a pleasing tan color when wet, had turned a brilliant shade of white. (Which is probably why it was called Bone. I had made my selection from a tiny color sample on the bag, which appeared tan, apparently oblivious to reasoning that Bone would quite obviously be a shade of white.)

I felt positively sick about it all.

(Ugly Bone grout. My bad.)

Bill and the girls spent the entirety of Saturday evening scrubbing the haze, only to realize that there were still hours of hard labor ahead. I hated the grout color. We discussed our options (one of which was to rip it all out and replace it with the wood we had initially wanted, before making the decision to tile to conserve financial resources) and researched information online.

So Bill spent yesterday removing grout. 12+ hours. What a mess.

(I spent a good 2 hours running around finding replacement blades for Bill's nifty tool.)

(That dust is a bugger to clean up.)

(Replacing a tile that got chipped in the process. Because we don't have anything better to do than a do-over.)

Needless to say, I was at the end of my rope by the end of the day.

And I'll admit it, I fell apart. Words came out of my mouth that I am ashamed of today, and apologies have now been extended to my family. They, kindly and lovingly, have forgiven me, and allowed me a do-over. I hope I can handle things with more grace today.

Bill has been a rock. The best husband ever. He has not said one negative word to me about my poor grout color choice, and the resulting work. He has labored into the wee hours of the morning on not a few occasions. He is making up for my measly 20% offering, which has been all I can muster the past few days.
I am such a lucky girl.

We STILL have the haze issue, for which we may be using these.

Then, let it be known, I am DONE. We are hiring out the bathroom tile, and Bill can wisely spend his time on a less back-breaking paying job.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Softly and Tenderly

An email I received this morning:

Dear Children,

Grandma Call passed away around 11 pm this evening, Sunday July 17th. Mom received a telephone call about 2 hours ago informing her of her mother's condition and she immediately left for Logan and was able to get there about 10 minutes before she passed away. Both of us were there this weekend, coming home just this morning... when we left we both commented that things looked pretty serious today. Interestingly, July 17th is the same day my mother, Grandma Goldsberry, passed away 19 years ago. It's been a reflective and sad day today!

We love you all!

Dad

Ninety four (almost 95) years of enduring to the end.

That is impressive.

Beloved wife...

(1968)

Mother...

Grandmother...

(Grandpa and Grandma with Jill and Rob, 1966)

(Grandma with Rob and Jill, 1970. I'm wondering where I was too... That red VW was our family car.)

(Both sets of Grandparents... BONUS! I'm in the hip retro striped dress, 1971)

Great-Grandmother...

(Grandma and my nephew Josh, 1989)

(Grandma with me, Bill, Lexee, Taylor and Britta, 1995)

(Grandma with Shilo, 1997)

(Grandma with Mauri, 2010)

And Great-Great Grandmother. (Just not for our family yet.)

She has been an amazing example of faith, love, patience, and endurance. We will miss her, and are so grateful for the time we've been privileged to spend with her. (Last summer's reunion here.)

A few years back our ward choir sang a number called Softly and Tenderly. A slow, beautiful arrangement by David R. Naylor of an old American folk hymn. I love the message.

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,

Calling for you and for me;

See on the portals He's waiting and watching,

Watching for you and for me.

Come home, come home;

Ye who are weary, come home!

Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,

Calling, "Dear children, come home."

Why should we tarry when Jesus is pleading?

Pleading for you and for me.

Why should we linger and heed not His mercies?

Mercies for you and for me.

Oh, for the wonderful love He has promised!

Promised for you and for me!

Though we have sinned, He has mercy and pardon,

Pardon for you and for me.

Come home, come home;

Ye who are weary, come home!

Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,

Calling, "Dear children, come home."

I am grateful for my knowledge of the true Gospel of Jesus Christ, and for the great heritage I have been blessed with. A heritage of sacrifice, diligence, determination, and faith.

Families are forever.

Friday, July 15, 2011

All in a Day's Work

Basement progress report:

Yesterday I completed the tile cutting for the "kitchen" area while Bill was "working." No, he doesn't really have a "job," but he has been working on a "proof of concept" proposal, for which he will be paid for his time. So it's "work," but not necessarily a "job," and may or may not be a permanent resolution to our current "employment situation." When he got home from "work," he went to work on mortaring the rest of the "kitchen" floor (made easier by his trusty and loyal tile cutter).

While Bill was finishing up in the "kitchen," I laboriously carried the six (6) boxes of purchased bathroom floor tile from the garage to the basement, one excruciatingly heavy box at a time. I carefully opened the first box of tile, and laid a few pieces out to see if I had chosen wisely. Yuck. It didn't work with Country Beige at all (which looks more like Sunny Lemon with the florescent lighting in the laundry area of the bathroom). Bill suggested re-painting the bathroom, to match the tile. No thank you. I will live with Country Beige and love it, even if it kills me. We decided to make our millionth run to the local home improvement store to return the six (6) boxes of tile (I only took one back UP the stairs -- Bill strong-armed the rest), and make another selection. We returned with tile samples, and not a few, one of which was not sold "by the piece," so we had to purchase the entire box. 20"x 20" porcelain. 7 pieces. SUPER HEAVY. Once Bill had lugged the samples down the stairs, I laid them out and quickly started eliminating (including the back-breaking style) until a final decision was made. Today, after "work," Bill will swing by the store to return the samples, and purchase the selected tile. Then the tile cutting, mortaring and setting will begin again in haste, in order to accommodate the Monday arrival of the cabinets.

After expending all of our energy on "work," work, and decision-making, last night we decided to watch Part 1 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, just in case we had a spare moment to catch the finale in the next couple of weeks (which seems highly unlikely with the schedule we've been keeping lately). Lexee wasn't home, since she had purchased her opening day midnight movie tickets weeks ago, and had to be at the theater early. Mar fell asleep in the first 10 minutes. Shi fell asleep after the first hour. I nodded on and off throughout, with an occasional twinge of back pain, an obvious result of the day's labor. It didn't really matter, since I have poor movie memory-retention ability, and can recall very little about ANY of the Harry Potter flicks. I would still go see the new movie, if only for welcomed relief from all the "work" going on around here.

It looks like date night will be spent with the wet saw. This is getting serious.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Date with a Wet Saw

I am now a tile cutter. I could do it professionally. Or not. I only measured wrong once, and missed the proper cut once (I should have "notched" rather than make a straight cut). Not bad for a first timer.

(Those little skinny tiles were the hardest to cut... but don't they look precise?)

That tile cutting is messy and time consuming, but I picked up a few tricks as I got to know THE WET SAW better.

Bill's goal for the kitchen area (not really a kitchen, but I'm not sure WHAT to call it) was to git 'er done last night, but we ran out of tile somewhere around midnight. He's taking care of priority #1 today (job stuff), so I'm heading off to the home improvement store to pick up more mortar and tile. Then THE WET SAW and I will meet again. Today we're going to move things a little faster, I hope.

Take our relationship to the next level, if you know what I mean. The bathroom.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

At the Meet - Tears and Confusion

Funny swim meet tidbits I neglected to mention yesterday:

-- TEARS --

During warm-ups, Bill and I relaxed in our quiet(er) location, and read up on some pioneer stories in preparation for the Trek.

I like to think I'm in control of my emotions. Most people know Bill is a bit of a softy, especially when it comes to spiritual matters. So there we were, smack dab in the middle of the all the pre-meet commotion, crying like babies. At least Bill had his sunglasses on (even if it was super dark and overcast). I just did my best not to sob audibly.

-- CONFUSION --

Since I am not accustomed to swim meets in the middle of the week, I kept thinking it was Saturday yesterday. Confusing a TUESDAY for a SATURDAY can really mess up a week. I would have moments of panic as I thought,
"What am I going to do for Singing Time tomorrow?!"
Then the realization would gradually settle, and I would remember that I still have TIME. And it didn't just happen once, but at least three or four times throughout the meet. So guess what I'll be working on today? Alleviating the panic.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

At the Meet

Swim prelims were today. The day started out COLD and gray. And we were unprepared.

I had watched the morning news before we left home. They said temps would be in the eighties until late afternoon, and then the storm would move in. I figured that meant a speedy warming, and since we had to leave the house by 6:30 am, it was hard to anticipate exactly what the weather would be early on.

The kids all froze the first few hours. Teeth-chattering and goose-bumping, they would mount the blocks, ready to plunge head-first into the chilly pool.

The sun finally came out from behind the clouds, and almost instantaneously it became quite hot.

I warmed myself in the sun (do I look interested in the meet, or what?), until it became time to move my chair into shade.

The sun made it's appearance just in time for Bill to start his timing shift.

No, Bill is NOT trying to look "cool" (or as Shilo would say, "an old guy trying to look hip... not that Dad's old..."), he's just shading his unprotected non-suncreened neck from the burning blaze of the sun. (Check out the guy in the pink abstract speedos standing next to him... now HE'S cool. And he knows it.)

The person of interest at the meet today for me was this nice gentleman. The one helping Bill jump-start a lady's car. The one in the black long-sleeved athletic shirt, high-riding khaki shorts, crew socks, and hiking shoes. I had seen this fellow before, at a meet a few weeks back. He was wearing a similarly interesting outfit of above-the-waist Wrangler jeans, a white long-sleeved athletic shirt (like an Under Armor type shirt... tight fitting, you know?), and most likely the same crew socks (I couldn't tell for sure, since he was wearing long pants) and hiking shoes. I am not making a fashion judgment. Goodness knows, I am not the snappiest dresser around. He was just interesting, since it was a sweltering hot day, and he was so darn overdressed for the weather (and those Wranglers were belted up so high on his waist... it looked quite uncomfortable). I wouldn't have had a second thought about him, until I heard the splash, followed by the gasps of on-lookers, smack dab in the middle of a race. He had been taking a picture of his son, looking through the tiny little lens of the camera (remember when we had to do that for every picture?), moving closer, leaning forward, to get the perfect shot, when apparently he took one step too many and ended up in the middle of lane 6. Wranglers, camera, and all. While kids were racing. Luckily, he did not interfere with the swimmer in lane 6, which I surmised was his own son. He quickly jumped out of the pool, and stood, dripping, clinging to his water-logged camera. It was one of those moments that you feel great empathy for another person's embarrassment. And for his son. Those in near proximity found him a towel, and gave advice on how to possibly save the camera and it's precious data. HE handled things with dignity, dried himself off, and stayed for the rest of the meet. (I'm sure I would have been sulking and crying in my car, hiding behind heavily tinted windows and large sunglasses, had that happened to me.)

So of course I noticed him today as he parked his family down right next to the starting blocks. And then I noticed him again and again, because his toddler (who I thought might very likely fall into the pool himself, since he was running around unsupervised on several occasions), a very young boy of maybe 18 months, screamed bloody murder on and off throughout the entire meet. Initially Bill had put our chairs in their vicinity, but once I heard that baby scream, I knew a move was in order.

This was not a snobbish "I don't want to sit by you" move, this was merely for headache avoidance and sanity preservation. EVERY time I stood by the blocks to observe the meet, that baby was hollering. Sometimes he was strapped into his stroller, sometimes he was on the hip of his mother, sometimes he was being dominated by his older (maybe three-year-old) brother, and sometimes he was being held by his long-sleeved, high-waisted-shorts-clad father, all of whom did NOT seem to notice that he was very obviously unhappy. Once again, I felt empathy. They wanted to watch and support their son, just like everyone else. I sent sympathetic thoughts in their general direction.

After the meet, Bill noticed a lady in need of assistance. He offered his help, and a moment or two later, "the guy" came by to add his support. Waiting and watching in our air-conditioned car, Shilo and I talked about what a nice, albeit interesting, fellow he was. Once the needed aid was given, and Bill joined us in the car, he said, "Sorry that took so long. That guy helping me didn't have a clue what he was doing, so I felt like I needed to stay until the car was running."

It's the thought that counts, right?

The meet was successful. Mauri qualified for Championships in TWO events: the 50 Back and the 100 IM. She took 18 seconds off her best IM time... a huge accomplishment.

Shilo qualified in all three of her events: 50 Free, 100 Fly, and 100 Back.

Way to go, girls!

Monday, July 11, 2011

Rainy Days and Mondays

It's a rainy day AND a Monday. Score.

I love a good rainy day. And I love Mondays -- the beginning of a new week. Kind of like New Year's Day, but on a smaller scale. A time for renewed energy, resolutions, and goals.
If I fail, I only fail for the week. There's another one right around the corner.

Yes, I think that's why Mondays are a favorite.

Between Friday and today, I have managed to sew four (4) pioneer skirts, three (3) aprons, and five (5) bonnets.

Did I mention that I am NOT a seamstress?

I meticulously picked apart the bonnet Britta used 4 years ago, made for her by an ambitious Laurel classmate completing a value project, to use as a pattern. It worked reasonably well, although when I tried them on, one by one as each was finished, I noticed that my head looked flat on top, and poofy on the sides. Nice.

I'm a girl that likes a big top, you know. A product of the 80's. I might just be wearing my bonnet hanging around my neck, draped down my back, just to create the pioneer aesthetic, without appearing flat-headed.

Unless it's raining. Then I'll wear it. Because wet hair is the flattest hair.

Tomorrow I will be sewing two more skirts (for a total of 6) for our soul-sister Cheyenne, then I am DONE. I will NOT be sewing pioneer clothing again. Maybe for forever, since I will have a quite a stash when it's all said and done.

Saturday we had a swim meet.

Mar's feet...

Shi's foot. A different perspective, since I post swim pictures aplenty.

It was our last regular season meet of the summer. Tomorrow will be Prelims, then Championships are on Saturday. The All-Star meet will be the following Saturday. So even though "the season is over," it's really not over.

And a quick ice cream recipe update: Yesterday we tried peppermint stick and coconut ice cream. (We made two batches because there were conflicting opinions on what constitutes a "good" ice cream flavor.) They turned out yummy, as usual, even if I only had 1 cup of cream per batch (vs. 1-1/2 in the original recipe). I made up for the difference with milk. This is good news, as less cream very likely means fewer calories, which can only mean more can be consumed.

For the peppermint stick ice cream, we crushed up 4 leftover-from-Christmas candy canes (saved for such a time as this), and added them to the mixture at the get-go. THEN we crushed up 2-3 more to add the last couple minutes, so as to have crunchy peppermint bits in the finished product. DE-lightful.

The coconut ice cream was made by adding 1-1/2 tsp. imitation coconut extract, (in addition to the vanilla), and a small handful of sweetened coconut flakes. Britt had made coconut ice cream earlier in the week, and we both determined that you really don't need to add a lot of the coconut flakes, unless you enjoy chewing your ice cream. Just a few are perfectly and deliciously adequate.

I think we're painting closets for FHE. Good times.