Turns Out, I’m Normal

I try not to live with regrets. Try.

A year ago, we bought a house.

I chose green for the living room color. Lou was scared. I insisted.

Because we are artsy, I thought we could pull off bold colors in our home.

After completing the accent wall, Lou stood in front of the Kermit-the-frog green backdrop and started gesturing actions like skiing down the slopes or surfing a huge wave or running from a dinosaur.

Hilarious.

Since all four walls of our living room could now be used as Hollywood green screens, I’ve learned my lesson.

Here’s the sketch for what our normal little house will look like soon…after we finally save enough dough for the project.

Please excuse the water marks...this thing has been hanging on our fridge for months.

Lou is still scared. Can’t say I blame the guy.

Hangin’

If Lou buys another one of these, I'm effed.

See that?

I did it.

I even used a power drill and everything.

Living with a musician means there’s a healthy population of guitars in your home. Usually, they’re leaning against a chair or couch. And, usually, it’s your fault if they suddenly tip over.

I took action.

Project specs:

$13 6-foot piece of 5″ x 1″ pine

$8 can of wood stain

$45 for three guitar hooks

$1,000 worth of your patience

Turns out, there are two things in this world that I absolutely hate.

Wood stain is definitely one of them. It stinks, it ruins a rag forever, and I’m constantly paranoid that it will spontaneously combust. Also, it takes way too long to stain wood…I’m talking two hours of application and eight to dry! Sheesh!

The other is dry wall screws. They make me crazy. First, I have to poke a big, ugly hole in my wall and then I have to hammer the damn thing in without bending the plastic. I almost cried when I got to this part of the project. So Lou did it for me.

To all the wives of musicians out there, if you want more detailed instructions, email me.

Or, try and figure it out on your own. If I can do it, anyone can. Seriously.

Plant Me the Serenity

Lou, choosing our next murder victims.

I guess we are gardeners now.

Yesterday, I consented to Lou’s sudden suggestion to buy some plants.

After sucking down two mimosas during a lovely brunch at Vincent’s, I gleefully skipped through Baker Nursery and filled our cart with herbs and vegetables.

(Had I been sober, I probably would have nixed the whole idea in the first place. I believe Lou knew this and took advantage of my midday drunkenness.)

I have a terrible track record when it comes to gardening. Not to mention, I just took a pay-cut by switching to this freelance business.

So, we basically just spent $50 on a bunch of plants that I will soon kill.

Poor little things don’t stand a chance.

Oh, Make Me Over

Attention all chicks and gay men: This is a makeover story!

Since I’m now a real freelancer, my husband and I thought the time was right to finally put together a proper office.

Plus, we can write this shit off at the end of the year, right? Right? Please tell me this is true.

Here’s our “office” before:

My husband is going to kill me for showing our shame to the public.

Don’t judge us. With a remodel on it’s way, Lou and I recklessly embraced the opportunity to chuck any and all junk in this room. It’s filled with all the mismatched furniture from our apartment days.

Terrible, isn’t it?

Two Saturdays, a can of hastily-chosen rust-colored paint, $500 worth of IKEA furniture, and some folk art was all it took to get this office in proper condition.

Here’s our office after:

Even the cat likes it.

Some highlights from our journey…

I was left alone to paint a wall.

Lou hates it when I paint messages because he says it ruins the integrity of the paint job. But how can I resist?

Mia is a camera whore.

I didn’t wear proper work clothing. After a day of taping, painting, and assembling IKEA furniture while crawling on carpet, I got some sweet rug burns.

Dear Pinterest…

I never knew I could hide light switches and thermostats...then I met you!

Dear Pinterest,

I first heard your name mentioned at a party. Gosh, that seems like such a long time ago, doesn’t it?

I’ll never forget the moment I Googled you. Innocent little me clicked the link to your home page. And on first glance, I knew one simple fact: we should be together.

Remember when I color-blocked my bookshelf? I did it for you.

The time spent waiting for your invitation was riddled with anticipation. When it finally came, I anxiously created my profile.

Now that we’ve been through so much together, I feel silly saying that!

These days, sewing, cooking, and hot glue-gunning fills my (shoot, can I call it “our”?) little household. And my outfits have never looked better, don’t you think?

I feel confident. Fresh. And safe…safe enough to tell you something.

I love you.

OMG, it feels so amazing to finally put it into words! I love you!

I love you more than I’ve ever loved a social networking site in my life. Friendster, Myspace, Facebook…heck, I even tried Foursquare for a while.

But it just never felt right.

Thank you, Pinterest. For everything.

Promise you’ll be with me forever?