Guess I need to find another handyman...
We're doing a remodeling project at Blogger HQ to take in some attic space and create a new home office. We've hired our favorite contractors Doug and Christine to tackle this job and basically turn our lives upside down for the next two months. Join us as we explore whether remodelers and home owners can peacefully coexist and/or find out if it's OK to dump a body in a construction dumpster.
"Framers start early," Contractor Doug said.
"They'd like to get goin at 7:30 Monday morning if that's OK."
What he DIDN'T say was that a guy in an 18-wheeler would pull up in front of the house with a load of lumber forty minutes BEFORE the framer's "early start". One small detail that was lost in translation.
That's why I was shaving when I heard the rumbala-bumbala-bumbala of an 18-wheeler idling in front of our house. No, we don't get many big rigs in our gated Colleywood cul-de-sac. So it took a while for my Monday-morning brain to realize that this 18-wheeler might have SOMETHING to do with our remodeling project.
After rinsing the shaving cream off my face, I threw on a pair of shorts and grabbed a golf shirt out of the dirty clothes hamper. I know this wardrobe choice isn't in keeping with the Colleywood dress code, dahling...but protocol be damned. I was in a hurry.
God bless you, lumber-haulin car nut.
Bob and I had one of our first fights over cookies. We were in our early 20s and newly married.
This vintage ad from a "men's magazine" is probably the reason it isn't around any more. Thanks to our friends at Copyranter for finding this gem.
My long-time friend Linda Storer and I are soul sisters. Besides being fellow breast cancer survivors, we write together. And we share everything from Brio's Insalata Roma (seasoned grilled white chicken and Roma tomatoes on a bed of field greens sprinkled with grapes and caramelized pecans -ahhh!) to a weakness for Nordstrom's shoes (they're easily returned ... no questions asked).
Although that why-don't-we-get-started-already remodeling project has us sidelined for now, Bob and I are fascinated with Mediterranean travel. I'm voting we go to Italy, Bob's love of baklava has him looking at Greece and, as you'd expect of classic movie buffs like us, we're both curious about Grace Kelly's Monaco (who wouldn't wonder about a country smaller than Central Park that attracts the super-rich?).
Thanks to my cousin John Henry for passing this one along!
I have a confession to make. I HATE reunions.
It's not that I'm antisocial, but I just don't see the point in getting together once every decade with people who only want to see me once every decade.
What am I Haley's Comet?
If you really like me (that includes you and maybe you) you'll see me more often than every time the year ends in zero - because, well, I'm just so damned charming.
So of course, this is just a setup to tell you that I broke my rule a few days ago and actually attended a reunion (start wagging your fingers now) against my better judgment.
What reunion was it? The WHAT isn't really important. It's the WHY that matters to me. Let's just call it the, People-Who-Get-Together-Every-Ten-Years-For-The-Hell-Of-It (PWGTETYFTHOI) reunion. See, right now you know it's stupid because the name is so effing long it doesn't even make a good acronym.
Remember that time we (ate/drank/escaped from that Mexican prison)?
H-e-l-l-o spring! Our favorite farmers' market has opened for the season, promising fresh tomatoes, strawberries, blackberries and more.
We're giving away three Garden-Fresh Cookbooks, a collection of One-Pot Dishes for Every Season and five All-Seasons Garden Guides ... FREE.
Read on for details on how to enter. Contest ends April 21!
For years, my girlfriends have teased me about my wacky eating habits. They'll tell you I live on dill pickles and toothpicks (I actually prefer graham crackers), Altoids and cereal (Special K without milk, of course).
This probably explains why I felt dizzy throughout the entire third grade...