Attic Expeditions

We live in a house with two roofs. An artifact from the 1970’s, it was custom designed by an ambitious local businessman to emulate a southwestern pueblo.

Unfortunately, his design was flawed--resulting in a perpetually leaky roof. After the house changed hands several times, a rancher solved the problem by building an immense tri-hipped roof over the existing flat one. So, we have a spacious attic that could pass for a second floor with some loving care.

This weekend, Tennisfiend decided to tackle the attic project with gusto. He dumped out the accumulation of spare boxes, mysterious wood scraps and inexplicable objects left behind by the previous owners. Finding a naughty VHS tape of animated fairytales wrapped in a moldering apron and numerous ancient (but not collectable) radios highlighted the afternoon.

Tennisfiend spent the latter part of Christmas Day lugging buckets of lava gravel and roof tar down our rickety ladder. Last night he decided to replace the buckets with our monster shop-vac. Wrenching the shop-vac up the ladder produced the loudest ten minutes of metallic clanking and Russian cursing I have ever heard.

An hour later, another dreadful racket commenced, it sounded like God was using our roof as an Emory board. Mildly startled, I snuck up the ladder to witness Tennisfiend peeling up inconsequential strips of roof tar with the aid of a flat bladed shovel. What a thankless job. I silently retreated.

At 9:00 p.m., a burning smell permeated the house. Tennisfiend explained that some roof tar had caught fire but would not elaborate further. At 10:00 p.m. a dusty and preoccupied Tennisfiend wrapped up his work. As we turned in for bed, he asked me where we could find a soldering torch. I had no idea what a soldering torch was, but I finally understood that he meant “blow torch”. When I asked, “What for?” he hesitantly explained that he planned to use it to heat up the roof tar, facilitating its removal. Heh. So when they find my singed corpse with a smug “I told you so” smirk charred on my lips, you know exactly what happened.

Recovery!

I never made it to the store with Ewbliette on Friday. Neverthless, she arrived wearing her festive Cossack Santa cap, cheerful as ever. After twenty minutes of gossip, she snatched my shopping list and left me and my greasy hair to watch (heaven help me) Ben Stiller comedies on TV. Bless her for doing my shopping!

Egor came home early from work after a riotous afternoon office party. He cuddled with me on the couch as we watched more mindless comedy. Saturday I felt a bit sorry for myself. I missed out on a fair amount of holiday fun, including movie marathons, parties, Christmas light excursions and most importantly, caroling with , and company. I hadn’t even set up our New Year’s tree. Sigh. A perfect remedy for the blues always includes chocolate (stomach be damned) and sunshine.

So I took advantage of the 75 degree weather and prostrated myself in the backyard to watch Tennisfiend work on his tan. :) In the evening we finally put up our squat but ample tree. Being sick had one advantage, Tennisfiend indulged my tree-decorating preferences. Every year we squabble over the ratio of decorations to tree-space. I fancy a tree that strains under the weight of its ornaments, while he prefers a tree so austere that it looks forest-bound.

This year we used all six strings of lights and eight colossal boxes of bulbs. When we finished, our shiny sparkly tree could be confidently exhibited on the Las Vegas strip. I felt quite proud. Sunday, we had a Christmas miracle! I woke up before noon and I made waffles. I even fixed an abbreviated Holiday dinner of roasted rabbit. We fed Misty treats all day long unfortunately making her ill by evening. I totally sympathized and brought her up on the couch to finish watching the Christmas marathon of evolution related programming on the Science Channel. Yay cephalapsis and homo erectus!

Sick Week

• Saturday evening, I began to feel unwell.
• Monday my mommy took me to the doctor.
• Tuesday I graduated from feeling ill in bed to feeling ill on the couch. Mom brought over meals for tennisfiend. Ewbliette visited and polished our kitchen to a shine I could never aspire to.
• Wednesday I was still couch bound, but bored. I did some crossword puzzles in the late afternoon. Devoted and still in a mood to clean, Ewbliette visited again to spread good cheer and to help around the house (I love her, very, very much).
• Today I made feeble attempts to return to my usual routine. I checked my email, paid some bills. Under a warm sun, I wheezed around the backyard and drew a primitive but recognizable picture of Misty.
• Tomorrow Ewbliette will take me shopping, even if I have to ride in a go-cart. I plan on wearing my fuzzy brown sweater, reindeer antlers and bright red lipstick.

 

I hope Santa will be generous to all of you celebrating Christmas this weekend. Our big celebration and gift exchange is on New Years Eve (Russian tradition). For recovery and holiday madness, I will take a brief hiatus from journaling. Happy Holidays!

Christmas Card Happiness!

Thank you goregalx for your super-sweet card! Between the hot buttered fun and the rum balls, I'm bound to have a very happy holiday season! Yay! Hope my modest greetings arrive soon! *hugs* Lori

Not Much Happening Here

So, aside from neglecting my lj, what have I been up to?

• Meeting work deadlines
• Shoving html into my brain as quickly as I can to facilitate the creation of my humble website
• Staring with stomach sinking dread at our empty and cracking pool, which needs repainting this weekend
• Pulling out my hair over the BIG leak in the koi pond
• Scanning multiple Hienrich Kley images just crooked enough to make straightening them infuriatingly impossible
• Running every fan in the house to eliminate the infernal smell of burned rice from the kitchen
• Rejoicing over being pregnant
• Panicking over every twinge, ache and secretion

Construction Worker Surprise

A few days ago I was torn away from work by the sound of Misty’s “Intruder!!!” bark. Stomping around importantly behind our property, two workmen measured and marked with stakes and flags. The attractive tall blond one noticed me and shouted incomprehensibly, waving. This drove Misty into a saliva-spaying apoplectic fit. While I held her back, the blond fellow continued to talk. Distracted by Misty’s writhing and snarling, I had to ask him to repeat himself, twice.

I finally realized that the poor fellow had a dreadful stammer. I did not want to embarrass him further, so I only half understood what was said. Someone was going to do something to our telephone pole this Saturday.

Saturday morning after Tennis Fiend left to conquer the scoundrels from Silver City in a charity tennis match, I put my hair up in hot rollers and made tea. At 9:20 the doorbell rang. Expecting a generic construction worker I nonchalantly answered the door. Apparently, El Paso Electric hires workmen based entirely on physical beauty. “Manny,” as his name tag read, was a dead ringer for Christian Bale.

He smiled warmly and said, “Miss, we need access to your back yard to…..” I don’t even remember what he said, except he called me “Miss.” It was my turn to stammer, “Uhnhh, sure. I-I-I’ll go unlock the, uhhhh, back gate.” Immediately I went to the bathroom and wiped off the three white dots of Oxy-10 speckling my face and tossed a towel over my rollers. Sheesh.

Our back yard was then invaded by the handsomest work crew I have ever seen. Tall, athletic, and graced with perfect teeth, Manny’s three co-workers smiled and smiled. They smiled at me, they smiled at my astonished neighbor Sioux and they even smiled at Misty, barking at the window. Aware of their effect on womankind, the quartet enjoyed their moment with panache. As they strutted about their business, I almost expected them to take off their shirts and do a little dance for us.

Twenty minutes later as I washed dishes, I heard Sioux laughing girlishly--she had made coffee for everyone and was chatting up Michael Vartan. The downside of the Electric Company visit was a day without power. I should lament our culture’s dependence on electricity and fossil fuel, or even my own unhealthy addiction to the internet and Comcast cable, but I haven’t the heart. Instead I reflect on how delightful and silly it is to be human.

Have Some Lemonade

The past five days have been difficult. I didn’t want to write, I didn’t want to think, I didn’t even want to sing. Yet as always, good things happen amidst the bad. Last week I acquired a scanner and I've been rabidly scanning images since it makes me feel like a great artist. I’m sharing a few scans selected from one of ’s favorite but dilapidated childhood books. The illustrator seems to be Russia’s answer to Sergio Aragones . They made me smile, perhaps you'll smile too.

Spotting

I went to the doctor today because I had some brown spotting. This was just like the spotting that I had when I miscarried last year. I am so scared.  It's too soon for an ultrasound, so the doctor put me on micronized progesterone to stop the spotting. Very, very scared.

Meme, Compliments of Goreygalx

Meme from goreygalx: Name 5 simple pleasures that you like most, then pick 5 people to do the same. Try to be creative and not to use things that someone else has already used.


1. Watching an orange and pink sunset from the roof of our pool house.

2. ewbliette’s Nachos.

3. Balancing one-legged on the tall wall in the backyard.

4. Driving on a cold night with the windows rolled down.

5. Reading in bed while sharing a bowl of pretzels with Misty and .