The best Christmas present

For a while, I have been coveting telephone tables.

About a year ago, my mom and I were talking about telephone tables (she'd read the blog and knew I really really really wanted one, but a genuine antique). She has one in her house in Ohio that I like a lot; it's the perfect foyer piece, great as a conversation-starter. I believe that one is my grandmother's.

It turns out, she had another one in the basement that she'd planned on restoring someday and displaying in the house somewhere; it wasn't in the best shape, she said, but it was her grandmother's -- my great-grandmother's. She passed away about 10 years ago and left my mom a telephone table that my mom loved as a child. I, of course, was all giddy, thinking I'd get to inherit the piece someday.

I got home the other day to find a ginormous box outside the house. What the ...

Knowing it was my Christmas present but a) too curious to wait and b) figuring such a large box couldn't just sit in the house anywhere, I opened it.

I opened it to find a newly restored antique telephone table, from my mom.

After about half an hour of carefully cutting away the bubble wrap and shipping "stuff," I sat in the middle of my kitchen floor with tears in my eyes, looking at the most gorgeous piece of furniture I'd ever seen.

Rich whistled. "Damn, she did good," he said.

Maybe it's not beautiful to everyone, but my mom knew that Rich likes dark wood, so she had it restored in a dark stain. To match the house, she had it reupholstered in a neutral color that picks up the yellow of the walls. And it's a genuine antique, a family heirloom.

Until I finish the basement and can move the litter boxes out of the upstairs alcove and down two flights, the table is on the porch, where it really does belong but I don't want to put it there until we finish the porch and replace the windows. It'll be the welcoming centerpiece of our home someday, hopefully soon.

Thanks, Mom.

Conversations

Brooke (kissing Rich on the forehead as he sleeps on a friend's couch): I'm off to work. It's 10 minutes to 9.

Rich (smiling): I want to live in Hoboken.

Brooke (also smiling): A bit late for that, but yeah, me, too.

Rich: Let's move to Hoboken.

Brooke: Go to work.

Rich: Look how short your commute will be today.

Brooke: Look how broke we'd be if we lived here. (Thinks of previous night of drinking and debauchery with Jen at Bin 14.)

Rich: . . .

*****

Coming up on HoB:

• A video tour update of the house as we approach the one-year mark of our purchase. It's part of an assignment Brooke has for her HTML class (embedding video into her website, set to launch in a little more than a month).
• Small updates on yardwork. Once the weather finally breaks, we'll get to work raking and fertilizing, cutting down a few dead bushes and small trees, and planning which greenery will join the backyard. It already looks completely different from when we bought the house.
• Pictures of the basement as Brooke tackles the cleanup. Currently, it's a box jungle, which the cats love. Hopefully, by the fall, the basement will be nearly empty, cleaned, painted white and will finally be home to a new utility sink.

Merry Christmas/happy Hanukkah/happy birthday to Bich!

Oh, happy day for the wine collection of Bich!

So this morning, the doorbell rings, and it's a delivery guy ... with a big Crate & Barrel truck behind him, the door open to what would be holiday and birthday gifts for Bich.

Now, as a joke a couple of years ago, Santa asked Brooke what she wanted for Christmas, and she quipped, "Well, can she create a registry?" Santa enthusiastically said yes. So Brooke did, putting on some dream items like copper pots (which you've seen previously on this blog) and a few other items that she's bought herself when they go on sale. Santa still checks out the registry come gift time. 

A couple of weeks ago, Mom alerted Bich that Santa had once again hit the registry, and bought both holiday gifts and birthday gifts, which would arrive December 18. Because Bich has had their hands full the past few weeks -- and Mom and Santa prefer it when gifts are a surprise, and Brooke has learned how to delay gratification -- Brooke did not check the registry to see what those gifts would be, and instead waited for whatever was going to arrive today.

Our wine bottles have a fabulous new home! Isn't it so pretty?

(McAllister wine bases, base with door; red kissing balls, all Crate & Barrel)

So this is the dining room right now (suddenly our dining table looks terribly out of place, so we'll just focus on this area instead). Clearly, we dig our wine, and must buy more.

Thanks so much to Mom, Dad and Santa for our gifts ... it's simply awesome. We're so thrilled to have these! (Yes, I did squee! like a little girl when I saw the big boxes.) The original intent was not for Santa or my parents to actually buy them, but boy, do we love them, and we're so very grateful. It has really warmed up our home.

Oh, and the candles? Those are left over from our wedding. Rich hates them, but I pointed out that I didn't have to spend our current money on them. He shut up.

Here's a random picture of Rich after we pulled the buffet out of their boxes and I vacuumed the joint -- we bought a round black rug on Leeza's suggestion, and she was totally right. Now I'm going to go out and find the right ottoman cocktail table ... because this coffee table has got to go.

Long-overdue update

Yeah, yeah, I know. Bich disappeared. I blame tailgating weekends, upheaval in the career zone (all good) and, well, a lack of getting anything done.


Thank goodness we have family and friends who save our asses.


An update on the last to-do list, plus a few extras:


1. Get a water heater before I have a panic attack. This is an ongoing disaster of epic proportions, but that's really all I can say about it, other than ... oooooh, glorious hot water, how I missed you!

2. Fix the boiler before I have another panic attack. See above explanation. On the bright side, the plumber AND the oil man said our boiler is in fine shape, and will just need some maintenance in the future.

3. Finish the second bedroom. Tonight or tomorrow, I'll get the second coat of poly on the floor, then let it dry for a few days before painting the trim and moving stuff back in there. You know, make it an actual bedroom. Mom and Aunt Connie saved my sick-as-a-dog self when they came to visit, and they painted the trim for me. Holy cow, did that help. It looks great.

4. Rent a truck and get my mattress out of the Quinns' garage. Um ... this weekend, perhaps?

5. Use said truck to get the mess out of the backyard and take all that sand to the dump. Um ... this weekend, perhaps?

6. Finish hanging up the few pieces -- mail/key organizer, signs and mirrors, etc. -- that really need a home already on the walls. This is sort of done. Still have a few things that haven't found their homes yet.

7. If I'm feeling really frisky, finish painting the upstairs hallway and get started on painting the risers. HA HA HA HA HA HA.

8. Call a landscaper. This one's currently up for "discussion." But that big circle of dirt in the backyard isn't going to seed itself. So I didn't call a landscaper, but Billy saved the day and seeded for us, along with mowing and edging and trimming. Our yard looks a million times better. And I'm no longer stressed about it. It also means I was happy to see rain in the forecast today so Rich won't have to water it tonight.

9. Call a housecleaner. Not up for discussion. Yep. Hired me a housecleaner. She's good and she's cheap, so if you're local and you need one, lemme know and I'll pass the info along.

10. Maybe, perhaps, get the baseboard heat installed in our bedroom. Otherwise, Rich will keep sleeping with a knit cap on his head and I'll have to continue surrounding myself with small furry animals. Done! Yay! We have heat everywhere!


11. Once the floor and trim were done in the bedroom, it meant we could clear out the porch -- which no longer looks like a book bomb went off in it. We've got grand plans for the space, which will probably wait until we decide to install new windows there, but as they say in real estate, it has tons of potential.

Honey-do list*

*I've got a few things I'd really, really like to get done before the cold sets in/Mom and Aunt Connie arrive.

1. Get a water heater before I have a panic attack.

2. Fix the boiler before I have another panic attack.

3. Finish the second bedroom. Tonight or tomorrow, I'll get the second coat of poly on the floor, then let it dry for a few days before painting the trim and moving stuff back in there. You know, make it an actual bedroom.

4. Rent a truck and get my mattress out of the Quinns' garage.

5. Use said truck to get the mess out of the backyard and take all that sand to the dump.

6. Finish hanging up the few pieces -- mail/key organizer, signs and mirrors, etc. -- that really need a home already on the walls.

7. If I'm feeling really frisky, finish painting the upstairs hallway and get started on painting the risers.

8. Call a landscaper. This one's currently up for "discussion." But that big circle of dirt in the backyard isn't going to seed itself.

9. Call a housecleaner. Not up for discussion.

10. Maybe, perhaps, get the baseboard heat installed in our bedroom. Otherwise, Rich will keep sleeping with a knit cap on his head and I'll have to continue surrounding myself with small furry animals.

Sunday morning

From this ...

To this:

Saturday was a flurry of exhausting activity for Bich; when we look out the back window, we either despair at how much we have left or realize just how much we got done, depending on the moment. (We're not talking about the Penn State game, in case you're wondering.)

Before we finally get to aerating and seeding, we need to get rid of most of the sand from the old pool, then get some topsoil to fill it in. Thankfully, we don't need a lot ... but this sand is killing us. 

Yay, digging?

I kept telling Rich he was digging too deep, but he wasn't listening. It's like he has a vendetta against the sand. ("Die, sand, die!!!")

Underneath that tarp are bags upon bags of sand. I suppose this means we're prepared in case of a hurricane.

Lots of dead plants and small trees dug up -- still not done on that front. That poor hydrangea will probably be dug up soon, too.

Believe me, this looks a lot better than it did. A rose "bush" was one of the victims here, but it had been poorly placed and wasn't going to survive (certainly not with me as its caretaker, but it really didn't have a shot).

This back corner on the other side of the house was weeded, and we used some old bricks to flatten out the area and give us a better spot for the garden hose. This will be swept up today; it should look at least decent after today.

We find more detritus in this yard, I swear.

After we decided we'd done enough in the yard -- i.e. before we fell over -- we hit Lowe's for anchors and screws for my pot racks. Rich got these anchors and screws from Toggler, and after drilling a few holes, laughed and said, "I feel like I'm forsaking my heritage."

Funny-looking plastic things sticking out of walls.

Rich, being handy. (He really is.)

Thanks for loaning us your drill, Leeza!

Getting there.

Success! Rich got both pot racks up, with a couple of small hiccups in between, but he did it. Go, Rich. 

We then put on the new slipcovers. No, I did not have the energy to steam them or wash them first.

New pillows! Aren't they fun?

Not much of a change, but they're so clean and hole-free. 

So we finally hit the sack in a ball of exhaustion. I woke up early, like a kid on a second Christmas morning, and grabbed my beautiful toys, just waiting for a space worthy of them.

OMG, aren't they pretty???

The Babs Commemorative Wall (from Mom: kitchen cart, pots and pans, wax melter, clock).

Loooooooove.

Who's coming to dinner?

Oh, gosh, this is just fabulous. Other than an eventual kitchen renovation (new cabinets, major appliances and floor), we're pretty much done in here.

Saturday morning

A little update before a little work before a little football.

This kitchen cart comes from Mom -- thanks, Mom! -- and hopefully today

we'll put up the pot racks above it.

And here's the second bedroom. Today or tomorrow, I'll put the second coat of paint down on the floor (yes, it was meant to happen last night, but ... I didn't).

The floor. It's not perfect, but I decided I like it that way.

Walls: Behr Premium Plus Interior Paint in Flint Smoke
Floor: Behr Premium Plus Porch & Floor Paint in Cool Granite

HoFB

That's House of Football -- otherwise known as the House That Joe Built. Well, during football season, anyway.

It's the most wonderful time of the year again, kids, and I'm currently resisting the urge to paint our bedroom in Blue and White stripes. (Yes, the caps are correct.)

Football football football football football.

I love football. I love watching the team run out of the tunnel at Beaver Stadium after JoePa. I love watching them after the drum major has landed his Roman flip. I love the Blue Band. I love watching teams get destroyed by my Nittany Lions. (Not that it happened the last time we were in attendance, against Ohio State.) I love that I am now one of those alumni who begin tailgating at 7:30 a.m. I love State College, Zeno's and that we got married on campus.

I hate Pitt, Michigan and Iowa, in that order. I hate it when people talk crap about JoePa. I hate losing.

On Saturday, we play Youngstown State in the home/season opener, and the wonderful Amy Farkas

is putting us up (she was also our hookup for this year's season tickets, which we just could not resist despite the fact that we bought a house three months ago). We've got some really awesome friends in Happy Valley -- K-Fo, Ali and Amy among them.

It's too hard to focus. I am so excited!!!

To top it off, Bryan and Lisa are visiting this weekend. Woot! What a great end to summer.

Happy football season, everyone.

Update

All Ben, all the time.

Well, that's not actually true. But he is the one who is willing to be photographed.

Comfort is not really a priority for him. He was wedged so tight between my foot and the pillow, I don't know how he could breathe.

Woody and Bernie sleep with me at night so they can have some time alone with us. They're much happier at night in our room, with the interloper locked out.

And before anyone wonders why there are no recent photos of Woodstein: Black cats simply do not take great pictures. And Woodstein keeps hiding, or turning away from the camera, or being mad that Bennie (Benny? Not sure what I've decided yet) is here in the first place.

Meredith, Mike, Truman and Carter came over to hang out and see the place on Sunday, and we had a great time -- this is one of my favorite pictures ever:

We've got the yard cleaned up enough that Rich was able to put up the new patio set, and this weekend, I'm heading to Home Depot to get a trimmer. (I'm putting my foot down!) Painting will recommence ... eventually.

Deep thoughts by Bich Samqua

So I went ahead and did something that resulted in a little ... hissing match between the B and the Ich.

With Rich off to a bachelor party in AC yesterday, I awaited a 1-800-Got Junk truck to pick up the carpet remnants and other random pieces of junk in and around the house.

Here's where the fight comes in: I didn't ask Rich, and he didn't really appreciate that little fact.

So why would I share that sort of domestic detail? Because in the end, after we thoughtfully stated our positions (i.e. did a little yelling, calmed down, ignored each other, etc.), together, we did just enough to make ourselves look around and say, "This works."

After I finally shoved Rich out the door yesterday, the truck came and took away a bunch of crap I needed out of the house for my state of mind. Then, Leeza and Olivia came over yesterday for much-needed girl time and artistic guidance (Leeza has some absolutely amazing things in store for the house, eeeee!). I love these two.

After I let our fabulous dinner of jhinga masala and veg pakora settle, I did some trim-fixing in the wee hours of the morning (I vaguely remember Rich walking in around 6 a.m.). And when Rich and I awoke this morning, had our little tiff and moved on, we got to work.

Sometimes we forget how much we respect each other, how funny I find Rich, how much Rich loves it when I stand my ground. As we hammered nails (struggling, admittedly) to hang mementos and pieces of our life together on the walls, with every piece reminding us of all the wonderful things we've experienced ... well, it's tough to stay mad. And it made the time fly.

Bich has always believed that what we've really got going for us is that we know we're not perfect, marriage isn't easy and kittehs solve everyth-- sorry.

Wait. No, I'm not. Kittehs solve all. We're all curled up on the couch with one of our favorite wines, cheese in our bellies, truly content. Our house isn't perfect, but it's perfect for us.

Home alone

With Rich indisposed on Sunday, I hit the house on my own to expend some energy and get a little more work done.

I also learned that when I go to Home Depot wearing an old painting shirt and my Pirates ballcap, I can't get anyone's attention even while waving my credit card around. But when I have to go back a few hours later to grab some primer and return a wallpaper steamer but I'm wearing a tank top instead after spending three sweaty hours ripping maroon flowers off my hallway walls, I can't get anyone to leave me alone. (It is Home Depot, after all, I suppose.)

Anyhoo. I also learned that I've been there often enough that I've heard "Hey, you're back" more than once this week.

No pictures, as I was Rich-less and it's a little tough to take photos while you've got a steamer in one hand and a scraper in the other, and you're covered in old glue and strips of ugly, ugly wallpaper. But it's gone! Yay!

After that, more spackling. Is it a little sick that I enjoy spackling? Spackling, sanding, cleaning, covering the floor in paper and painter's tape ... this is our life.

Also, I'm probably just being weirdly paranoid, but I had the sneaking suspicion someone's been in the house. I know, I know -- the first thing I should have done after the ink dried on the closing papers was change the locks. So I went out and bought new locks. And installed them myself. Granted, it took a call to Dad to finish:

Brooke: Hi, Mom -- where's Dad?

Mom: Anything wrong?

B: No, I just need Dad's help. I'm trying to change the locks and I'm stuck.

M: By yourself?

B (mentally): Oh, shit, I really shouldn't be doing this on my own, should I.

B (for real): Well, yeah.

M (proudly): Good for you.

It took me two hours, but I did it. Lots of swearing and such, but it looks much better. And I feel less crazy.

We're just about ready to do some actual painting, if my world continues spinning on the correct axis and Rich's digestive tract begins to cooperate.