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The First & Last Thing I Will Ever Say About This

At least some of you out there who keep up with this blog on a regular basis know that I’ve been searching for my “dream job” since I finished my MBA in December. Let me just say that it’s been 6 very long months of thinking that I was going to have to sell my house and move to Chigago or somewhere out west to find a job that would present the kind of challenges, atmosphere, and work in general that I could respect and wanted to be a part of.

I sent out possibly 70 resumes, interviewed with five companies in 3 different cities, turned down two job offers, and started to think that maybe I was setting my standards a little too high. So I know what you’re going to say when I tell you that I found a company that embraces both the business and creative sides of people, that creates very unique solutions to common business challenges, and who’s home office is located less than the length of a football field away from the building The Family Business is located in, (which incidently is also about 15 steps away from the place where I get my hair cut)… What??  Yeah. That’s what I said.

You can bet your ass that when they offered me a job I did the I-just-landed-my-dream-job happy dance throughout my entire house, scaring both cats and resulting in a very bewildered look from MysteryMan.

So, as of the 15th I’ll be starting a job which I fully expect to kick my butt, challenge my mind, and allow me to do two of the things I love best every day: Create things, and solve problems. But, having vicariously learned the lesson from many that blogging about work is a bad idea, and firmly beliving myself that it’s best to keep a little bit of distance between the powertool-weilding-badass side of myself and the professional “I-wear-shoes-with-heels” side of myself… this is both the first and the last thing you will likely ever hear about that job on this website.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming…

That Looks Familiar

I’ve been promising for at least a month (maybe two) that since I started using the open-source version of WP for this site that I would rebuild the side bar, and more importantly, blogroll, that you now see to the right. It’s totally back, but if you’re looking at it and are like, hey, where’s my site?? Just leave me a comment or shoot me an email and I’ll add it to the list.

The project tracker is still a little wonky, and I’m working on it. I know, I know.

I am still trying to work out a few kinks with the templates, so if things don’t look right to you I’m not going to be offended if you drop me a line and tell me to quit messing with the WP code because its screwing up your DIYdiva experience. I’m totally rusty when it comes to the CSS and PHP involved here. Also, if anyone knows anything about the WP Related Posts plugin and know where this code goes in the templates: <?php wp_related_posts(); ?>  Any advice is appreciated.

Seriously, it’s This Long

Picture me gesturing approximately a mile wide with my arms, and that’s how long the list of things I need to get done in the next two weeks is. Not that that’s unusual. Most of it is oranizational, some of it is preemtive, and about half of it has to do with that thing I keep saying I’m going to tell you about but haven’t yet…

And yeah, I’m still keeping you in suspense. I have a mean streak a mile wide, I know.

Things I Haven’t Been Talking About

Last week Aimeroo was talking about her Losing It Challenge and was all “How are you guys doing with your goals?” And I felt her eyeballs staring right into my forehead, because I know I haven’t done a Weight Loss Challenge post in several weeks.

My current weight is 121.5. That means I’ve raised $15 dollars for Nature’s Nursery and lost 7.5 lbs overall. It’s also the exact same thing I weighed the last time I posted about this a month ago. So you haven’t been missing out on anything, and for a minute there I just got sick of talking about it every other post.

What we can say is that I’ve become very good at maintaining, and have probably hit equilibrium, but MysteryMan and I are starting 30 Alcohol-Free days next week so we’ll see what happens when I’m not consuming all those beer-calories every week.  

That’s All Folks!

Which is a total lie. There was something else I wanted to tell you, but between the last paragraph and this one my cats brought a sparrow into the house and released it in to the living room and all four of us circled the couch about 18 times chasing after eachother (except for the bird who was flying for his life) before I could restore order. Now I forget what I was going to say.

Never a dull moment here on Garrison Road.

Because god knows you wouldn’t want to miss SpongeBob reruns in the 90 seconds it takes you to brush your teeth.

MysteryMan and I stayed at Ricky’s condo in Trump Tower in Vegas, which is about three or four levels closer to snooty than our regular comfort zone, but we had fun playing it up for a weekend.

Some things I learned about excessivly weathy people? They eat things like yogurt and green onion flavored potato chips at $8 per serving. Which really makes my gag reflex kick in on a couple of different levels, the first of which is yogurt flavored potato chips? And the second of which is $8 for 17 chips and some air? Seriously.

The country boy demonstrates what us regular folk eat…

…Ass Kickin’ Corn Chips, of course.

The thing about the time change and MysteryMan & I both being on an early to bed early to rise sleep schedule is that we were in bed every night by 10:30 PM. In Vegas. I’m sure that’s unheard of, but hey… that’s how we roll.

My new favorite Vegas restaurant is Maggiano’s. Totally little Italy. Totally kick-ass pasta. That’s all you need to know.

My favorite couple in Vegas are seated right behind us in this picture… a crotchety old Italian couple who complained their way through the entire meal. Still, I totally loved observing them covertly.

The man insisted they make his pasta special with noodles, olive oil, parsley, and pine nuts. Kind of like a parsley pesto, which I might be tempted to try out myself (being a pesto connoisseur) if I liked parsely at all… which I don’t. (See that dissatisfied look on his face, classic!)

Of course, the best part about our trip (other than the pool, and I have a great design for some wooden lounge chairs to build now) was the wedding. This is MysteryMan during the ceremony. You can almost see him praying… “Dear God, please don’t make me go through this any time in the forseeable future… I promise not to flip off any more old ladies while driving… Amen.”

Kidding, MysteryMan.

Although you do see how he strategically places a six-year-old between himself and the garter.

Ha. Ha.

But overall (and excepting the 115 degree weather) it was a nice relaxing long weekend, which is about the perfect amount of time for that kind of thing, if you ask me. After all, I have projects to get back to you, and whoa boy, do we have a big one coming up that I’ll let you in on later this week. Let’s just say that there are going to be much more exciting things going on around here than anything that happened in Vegas… after all, we’ll be using power tools!

Which didn’t even faze me, because first, we are making some serious progress on that big-ass wall.

And more importantly…

I’m going to be spending the next 72 hours in Vegas, laying next to a pool and sipping Margaritas. (And attending a totally fabulous wedding.)

So, bring it on, gods of rain and muck and port-a-pots and broken equipment. You can’t bring me down today.

If you’re wondering what this is… it’s a picture of me, falling in love.

Yes, with rusted, cracked, apparently duct-taped, windows… which happen to belong to this:

Look. At. All. That. Space. For. Tools.

Is there anyone else in the world who looks at this picture and gets a little weak in the knees?

This dilapitated little building has a story. I know that, even if I don’t know the whole story itself. It used to be a little gas station and that the garage once housed a hydraulic lift. I like to imagine it as a quaint little country corner store, with vintage Coca~Cola signs and little boys with scraped knees sitting out front drinking ice-cold sodas. More likely it was patronized by middle-aged overweight men who were all oil stains and plumbers cracks, which isn’t nearly such a nice visual, but it’s a story none the less.

Currently it sits –largely neglected– on three acres of property, along with a little house and an overgrown yard. The property abuts the land that MysteryMan’s grandfather farms, just down the street from his parents, grandparents, and Aunt & Uncle.

I’ve been making doe-eyes at this little shack every time we’ve driven by it for the last year and a half, and now MysteryMan’s grandpa* has bought the property, and is either going to rent it out or turn around and sell it to MysteryMan, if he wants it.

Now, maybe you don’t know this about MysteryMan, but it turns out he’s a bit stuck on me. When he said “what do you think?” I gave him that look where I lower my head and raise my eyebrows and blink at him seven or eight hundred times, because duh. You could show me a cardboard box and a piece of used tinfoil and ask “what do you think?” and I’d already have plans for how to turn it into a french country cardboard cottage.

Something like…

…this?

Maybe. I was just playing around with ideas… and wouldn’t it be great if real life was as easy as photoshop?

And I know at least some of you caught on to the fact that there is a whole house on that property to contend with. And even if MysteryMan buys the property and the building with the big windows becomes tool heaven, they won’t be my tools per se, because I have my own house and my own tools which need to say within 50 yards of my person at all times. Because you never know when you’re going to need to palm route something, okay?

But it has potential. And I’m driven by the need to reach in and find that potential, to roll up my sleeves and turn ugly old things into something both beautiful and full of character.

And have you ever known me to be able to resist a project? Seriously.

* MysteryMan’s grandpa should also be known as Superman, and can I just want to say that I want to be him when I grow up? I do. Well, first I want to be like that long line of badass women I come from, but secondly I want to be like MysteryMan’s grandpa. He has a whole barn full of tools. And tractors. I don’t even know what I would do with a tractor (well, I know one thing), but it seems like something I need to have. Obviously.

For the next couple of weeks, this, my friends, is my canvas:

Take a good look, because when I’m done with this project there will be a wall approximately fifty foot tall surrounding that building. Actually, it’s not a building, it’s a set of aggregate hoppers, but I know you aren’t interested in all of that… what you’re really interested in is me in a hard hat.

MysteryMan loves it when he sees me on the jobsite and I’m all “Hooonnney?? Does this make my head look fat?”

I have to say, it’s been almost two and a half years since I’ve been on a proper construction site, and other than having realized that I’ve grown unacceptably soft (you will not belive the kind of agony I woke up in this morning), the first crunch of workboot on gravel reminded me of all the things I love about construction sites:

1.) The building of things. Really, really, big things.
2.) Learning new stuff… like how to properly use a grade laser.
3.) Being outside all day.
4.) Pushing myself to the limits of my physical ability.
5.) Men who work a lot harder than normal because they see a girl kicking butt.

The flip side to all of this is that while it’s a fun break from cubicles and computer screens, there are some very good reasons why this will never (or at least no longer) be what I do as a career. Firstly, you know me, I love everything about tools and equpment and building stuff… but in the grand scheme of things, once you know what you’re doing, it doesn’t give me the kind of brain challenges that I need every day. On this project, for example, the last two days were just logistical nightmares (my favorite kind) what with getting all of the right equipment to the right place, and getting all the lines and stakes where they should be. But we’ll have about one more really challenging day, and then the next week and a half will be pretty much like stacking a huge set of legos.

Kind of like this:

(For size reference… that’s a four-foot level sitting on top of that top block. Also, don’t mind my giant thumb in the pic.)

Only it will take a lot longer than legos, and there is always the possibility that I might lose a finger. Not that that’s anything new around here.

And of course, the other thing I hate about working on construction sites is trying to walk that fine line between staying well-hydrated and never ever having to use a port-a-pot. EVER.

Plus, while the blood of four generations of construction workers runs through my veins, deep down inside you know I’m a technology girl. And while yes, I did fall in love with the grade laser, I need my computer and spreadsheets and websites and programming. I don’t live for these things necessarily, but I can’t live without them either.

So, I am totally thrilled at the fact that during this part of my life, while I am actively searching out my dream job, I get the chance to go back to my roots and play in the sandbox with the big boys for a couple of weeks.

And despite how stunning I look in construction apparel…

…I’ll also be glad to get back to that much fresher smelling version of myself when this is finished.

**If you’re all “What is that fuzzy heavenly glow on all of your pictures?” don’t worry, this isn’t a dream. My camara phone just takes crappy pictures.

Step one in this process was to remove the crumbled-to-shit iron railing, which, obviously, had seen better days.

Step two? Taking care of this mess that the previous owners left me.

It’s hard for me to talk about what was done here without steam pouring out of my ears or using the f-word excessively… but I’ll try. It appears that there were at least three attempts to patch the mortar around these stones. The first resulted in that fun border of mortar you see decorating the bricks at least an inch away from the actual place that needed patching. Why? Who the heck knows? However I have to give the previous owners some credit for actually using mortar in this instance, because as you can see on the second attempt some sort of plastic runny mystery substance was dripped around the stone. At least, I assume this was an attempted patch job… one in which they expected this gray slop to defy the laws of gravity and just stay in the crack. Can’t imagine why that didn’t work.

The third attempt actually managed to seal off the cracks, because they used a clear silicone caulk. Um. Seriously? I know I am the queen for not using tools and/or building supplies for their intended purpose… but, bathroom caulk? (Then again, I’m talking about people who patched holes in the walls with scotch tape, so I cannot even imagine why I’m surprised.)

So, lets talk about mortar.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a mason. I know some things about concrete, mortar, grout, and cement by virtue of the fact that I worked in the concrete industry for a few good years, but I’m not an expert, and certainly not a tradesman. What I am (and you all know) is fearless about taking on projects around my house, mostly because no matter what I do, it will never be as screwed up as what the previous owners have done. So, the information and pictures that follow will likely make a seasoned mason cringe right down to the very depths of his soul. However, this cost me $7 in materials and it worked, so I’m still going to share. 

The first thing I did was cleaned out as much of the old mortar as I could, using my favorite tools of destruction: A hammer and screwdriver.

Near the bottom I found something that made my eyeballs roll all the way back into my head:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… but I have to say it just this once.

What. The. Fuck.

Obviously this chunk fell out at some point, but then another piece of stone was inexplicably glued to the back?? And shoved back in the hole??? Because… I mean… I can’t even think of a plausible explanation for this. Like the toothpicks in the screw holes upstairs were somewhat understandable, but… I don’t even know what to say. This is me. Speechless.

It’s not pretty, but this is as clean as I could get it. (And notice me still leaving room for mortar joints around the chunk.)

So, here we are, fairly cleaned out:

I think I chipped a little bit more of the side mortar out about half-way up, and then used a paint brush to clear out any dust/dirt/chunks-of-mystery-substance. Unfortunately there wasn’t much that could be done about the inch of mortar colored outside the lines there without damaging the brick, so I’ll live with it.

I found these little $7 bags of mortar for patching at Home Depot, and while leary about the add-water-and-squish method of mixing that they recommend, I gave it a shot.

(Yes, I’m barefoot and sitting indian style.)

Here’s my recommendation, pour the powder into a bucket first and then add the 7 oz. of water, and stir it up with that fun little yellow putty knife they give you. The squish method did not work so well. Also, resist temptation to add more water… mortar is about right when you can scoop out a 3/8″ thick chunk, then hold the trowel (or yellow plastic thing) vertical, and the mortar holds.

I don’t have picture of the next step because MysteryMan was nowhere to be found and I wasn’t touching my Nikon with fingers full of mortar. Suffice it to say I reached into the bag of mortar, pulled out a handfull and smushed it into place with my fingers. Cringe away masons!

I know that cement it corrosive. Believe me. And if you do this you should wear gloves and blah, blah, blah. And shoes, probably. But, hey, this is why I love being a DIYer and not a professional builder of things. I can do it my way.

Let me just say this about getting the mortar in the crack… It’s not sticky. Mortar is basically sand, water, and a really fine powder (thats the cement). What you’re aiming for is kind of like suction. You really need to get the mortar packed in there, and that’s what makes it stay.

Here’s another thing that will make a mason have an aneurism. They sell tools for striking the mortar (giving it that nice grove) and I even own one, but I wasn’t exactly sure where it was located within the 17 different spots in my house/garage where tools amass… so I just used the end of a paintbrush, which worked just as well for me.

After all of that was done (and here’s my mortaring trick) let the mortar dry for about 10 minutes or so, and then come back with a wire brush and clean of the excess which will have gotten all around the spot you actually wanted the mortar to go. I have one of those wire brushes (that looks something like a toothbrush) but it was off somewhere partying with the striker. So I dug this out of some closet.

It worked okay, but not great. And my knuckles got scraped to shit. If you’re ever going to attempt this, definitely get a wire brush.

Then I like to spray the joints (and stuff that just got scraped away) with a water bottle… it helps reduce shrinkage cracks… and come back in another 30 minutes or so and give it another go with the brush.

Which is how we go from absolute crap, to nowhere-near-perfect-but-way-better-than-before mortar joints. (And there are no longer gaping holes leading to the interior of my house, which is a bonus.)

Everything is a little fuzzed out from the mortar, but with a couple of good rains (or blasts with the garden hose) I expect the gray residue to fade off of the brick and stone.

With that, step two, complete.  

(Also, if you did this with your fingers and no gloves… go slather about a cup of lotion on your hands because in 30 minutes there will be no moisture left in them, and your fingers will start to bear a strong resemblance the terrain of Death Valley.)

The one good thing about being booted mercilessly out of Spring and into the hot, muggy oppressiveness of Summer? Cookout days are back again! (Not that we weren’t grilling out in the dead of winter dressed in all-out north-pole-expedition type gear… okay, okay, in the spirit of honesty I’ll amend that and say “not that MysteryMan wasn’t grilling in the dead of winter, while I huddled inside under three blankets, with the heat on full, praying for spring.” )

And you know if you’re cooking out, going to a cookout, or just thinking you may want to cook out sometime in the near future… you gotta have some potato salad. I know, I know… there are as many different versions of potato salad as there are fish in the sea, and everyone likes it differently. So I’m not saying my recipe is the best, I’m just throwing it out there in case you’re looking for something a little different in your potato salad this year.

Step 1: Boil Stuff

What you’re looking at here is 2 large russet potatoes, cubed and boiled in salted water for 10 minutes or until easily skewered with a fork.

What you are not looking at here is an egg getting itself hard-boiled in a pot, mainly because I didn’t take a picture of it. Basically egg meets pot of water. Pot of water meets burner. Wait until water boils for a couple of minutes and then I just shut the burner off and let it cool on its own. I have no idea if this is proper egg-boiling etiquette, but it’s what I do and it works.

Step 2: The “Garden Fresh” Part

Basically this entire recipe could be summed up by saying: Make your regular potato salad recipe, except omit the celery and add some chopped up fresh green beans and dill. But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to play with the Nikon, so you’re getting the whole blow-by-blow account here.

So, I finely mince what amounts to a tablespoon of onion, half a cup of fresh green beans (do me a favor and don’t try this with that shit that comes out of a can… I can’t even imagine how that would taste, but the thought of it is making my gag reflex kick in), and the hard boiled egg.

All of these get added to the potatoes along with some salt and pepper.

You may be leary about the green beans, but don’t be… they are all crunch and freshness and way better than celery.

Step 3: Dressing

I don’t like that overwhelming mustard taste that a lot of potato salads have, so my dressing goes something like: 1/2 - 3/4 c. full-fat mayo, 1 Tbsp. mustard, tiny splash of apple cider vinegar, tiny pinch of sugar, and at least a tablespoon of fresh or dried dill. I use a lot of dill.

What you probably don’t want to do is add organic creamy peanut butter, even though you may notice a jar in the picture above. I just always like to have the peanut butter handy in case I need to grab a spoonfull and roll it in chocolate chips.

What?? It improves my disposition.

Step 4: Mix & Mix

I expect this part is fairly self-explanatory.

Maybe you want to add more dill. I did.

Step 5: Enjofsydifbnsd…

sry. can’t type. too busy eating.

Variation: If you want the MysteryMan version of this dish: omit egg, add bacon. Because that man will slice off his own thumb before eating something that looks like an egg, tastes like an egg, has the word “egg” in its name, or could possibly have, at one point in its short existance, come into contact with an egg.

* If you’re looking for more cookout worthy recipes: Grilled Corn & French Onions

Seems that I have been starting more computer/printing projects in my free time recently, as opposed to wood/power tool projects. (Made some progress on the recycling cabinet last week though, so don’t count that one out yet.) This should be depressing, but really it’s fun to brush up on design skills, and even more fun when they directly relate to my brooms.

It occurred to me when I was working on these business cards, well, first, how bland and boring regular business cards are. Why do we let a 2×3.5″ piece of paper define us in such a generic way? Obviously because its safe and expected, and would the general public really take a medical doctor who handed us one of these seriously?

I would… but I appreciate a little humor and like to believe that people are actual people, whether or not they are CEO’s or surgeons. (And because I stole their picture to use as an example, check out the website for Show Off Cards. They really are fun.)

Anyway, my thought really wasn’t about business cards so much as it was about the broom business, which really is more like a broom hobby that has business-like attributes. It’s fun to have a reason to a.) work with wood, b.) buy more power tools, and c.) play around with funky ideas for business cards and websites without having to worry about the acceptance of the general population.

My challenge to everyone with access to scissors, paper, and glue (man, these tools never get old, do they?) is to see if you can define yourself in a 2×3.5″ card. Can you make something that says something genuine about you?

*If you loved the show off cards, check out IDEO’s “Identity Card” project, which is one of those things that just makes you think.

Along with the potential for endless days of frizzy hair (seriously, find me the buzzer) the heat, humidity and sunshine has brought one good thing to Garrison Road… my garden is showing a little bit of color!

I’ve been on a kick with only buying edible plants this year, which so far include a blackberry bush, grape vine, tomato plant, bell pepper plant, and the strawberries you see above. All planted in containers, and, come to think of it, all purchased by MysteryMan. And I’m trying a little something new and attempting to grow some beans, carrots, and peppers from seeds. (Which, speaking of, have you ever seen a carrot seed? I’m going to be absolutly shocked if actual carrots grow from those things, I don’t care what it says on the package.) The beans are making some progress though…

We’ll see if I inherited enough of a green thumb from the generations of farmers and gardeners that I come from to actually see some beans from these, or even like a stalk and some leaves would be pretty exciting at this point.

The good news is that I weighed in on Monday at 121.5 pounds. So at least the scale is moving in the right direction again. And that was a feat considering how much birthday cake I ate between Friday and Monday. Like for every other meal.

The other good news is that I did get my beloved palm router… and in fact almost got two of them since both MysteryMan and Ricky clued in since I was incessently talking about how the big router scared the bajeezus out of me and how much I wanted to route me some dovetails.

And the extremely good news is that even though I’m o-ffically a year older, I have not found any new gray hairs on my head. Yet.

The Bad

The bad news is I haven’t gotten a chance to use my new router yet because my life has been full of all kind of life things and not so much fun things.

The other bad news is that we are booked freaking solid this weekend and I probably won’t get to use my router until sometime next week, which is like torture… although the fact that MysteryMan will be joining me a year older and we will be cooking out with all kinds of family Friday, Saturday, and Sunday definitely makes up for it.

The Ugly

I think I’m allergic to Birthday Cake. Normally, I would say that and it would be a joke… like, ha ha, my butt is allergic to birthday cake and swells up every time I eat it.

But this is not a joke. For the last three days I thought that a killer mosquito was eating me alive while I was sleeping because I would wake up with like 10 new mosquito bites every day. Then yesterday I woke up with seven bumps just on my knee and while I was tearing into my skin until it bled like some sort of wild animal and planning mosquito hunts throughout the house, MysteryMan suggested that maybe this wasn’t normal.

Especially because he sleeps right next to me with no covers on and was untouched.

So finally I googled it, and do believe, in fact, that I have hives. Hives. Can I just say,  W. T. F?? And the only thing that I could find on the list of shit that causes hives that I had been ingesting regularly for the last four days was berries. As in the fresh raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries that topped my birthday cake.

Awesome. 

There is probably some lesson in this as to why you aren’t supposed to eat birthday cake for every other meal for four days in a row.

And I have a job interview tomorrow. Nothing says “please hire me” like scabbed up arms. Sa-weet.