One Brain Cell Short of a Full Can

Wow, I didn't realize it had been so long since my last post. Time flies when you're getting your girl back to school. I also returned to my part-time job at the school. So it's basically been a scholastic BTS celebration at the LevelHead house.

But we didn't let reno endeavors get pushed completely aside over the weekend. We were all about the paint. Mr. Hubby painted the living and dining rooms, which I'll post tomorrow, while I pushed the latex envelope a bit more.

When we bought the house in the spring, one of the first ideas I had was to change the color of the shower pan that was in LevelHead Jr.'s  bathroom. It was kind of a dingy tan color, which I of course wanted to make, you guessed it .... white. But how? So I did some research online, and as we all know, the internet never lies. So when numerous people said I could spray paint the shower bed, I jumped all over it, given my recent ''if it doesn't move, spray paint it'' attitude.

The brand on the shower pan is Swanstone; and the insignia says it's ''solid surface'', but what does that mean? So I asked Ms. Google yet another question, and she informed me it's basically pressed plastic.

Off I went to the hardware store and purchased Krylon's spray paint designed specifically to adhere to plastic. I then returned home and began protecting every non-shower pan surface I could. Newspaper was taped to the tiled shower walls; a sheet went on the floor. Towels went on top of the vanity. I've spray painted enough grass outside to know that the aerosol can go crazy, so I knew trying to spray paint inside was pretty ludicrous. But how else could I get the dang thing white?

So I sprayed and sprayed -- man, is that stuff ever toxic. I had my mask on with the windows open and the fan going, but I still killed off some brain cells in the process. All that and it didn't even adhere the way I was hoping. There are dingy spots still showing though the white. But I'm not giving up so fast (that may be the dead brain cells talking). Next, I'm going to look for an epoxy paint made for plastic. And if I can't find that, I'll give the painter-and-primer-in-one a try.

Now, I know what you're thinking. The first shower, and the paint is going to start running like kindergartners trying to get to recess. And that may be exactly what happens. But I've got to give it a try. Plus, I can buy one of those non-skid pads so at least LHJ's feet won't turn white with every shower. Now that's a mother's love.

Tomorrow I'll update you on Mr. Hubby's successful weekend painting ...

Before and after shots of the shower floor (although the ultimate ''after'' shot won't be taken until I'm satisfied with the result).

Out Damned Spot!

It's not often that I quote Shakespeare, but the words above, spoken so eloquently by Lady Macbeth as her murderous ways drove her to the brink of insanity, are pretty much how I feel about our stainless steel appliances.

I had heard people talk about the constant smudges that were nearly impossible to get rid of on their refrigerators, but did that stop me from wanting the very appliances that cause this madness? No way -- I wanted the real thing because it looks so sleek. Plus, I thought that my slovenly ways would make me pretty much oblivious to the constant cleaning and touching-up about which those neat-freak types spent their precious spare time worrying.

But I am here to proclaim that no one is immune to this perfectionist behavior once stainless steel enters their homes. I have become full-throttle OCD when it comes to keeping my stuff smudge-free. I'm constantly trying to remove LevelHead Jr.'s fingerprints post-snack hunting; or Mr. Hubby's foot marks as he slams the freezer door closed after scooping his nightly ice-cream; or my own apparently greasy elbow spots after heaving the door closed, hands full of fruits and veggies (OK, actually Diet Sunkist and cheese balls).

So how to get them clean. I turned to my dear friend Ms. Google for her thoughts. Several sites suggested a product I would have never previously thought of voluntarily rubbing on my steel of the stainless variety: olive oil. Sounds pretty wacky, I thought, but more than a few seemingly veritable people recommended the product. So I thought it was worth a try. Big mistake. I don't know if I put too much or too little on, but my dishwasher was left looking like an Exxon oil spill. I then tried removing the greasy film with Windex and vinegar, all to no avail.

Mr. Hubby came up with the solution. He remembered those Dawn commercials where water fowl is cleaned after oil slicks. So I took dishwashing liquid to my steel and just like water off a duck's back, it worked.

So now when my ss is looking spotty as a Dalmatian, I first wipe the appliances down with a Dawn solution. Then I dry them and treat remaining smudges with vinegar. Yes, I know it's a lot, especially for a lazy person -- but just like Lady M, I am driven mad by the spots. I doubt that dirty appliances were the muse for Shakespeare's play, but you never know. Maybe Willy had some stainless steel of his own ...

Blogger's confession: I took photos of my smudgy dishwasher before and after cleaning, but with my limited photography skills, I couldn't tell which was which. I'm hoping that's just in the pics, and not in real life.

We're Near the Finish Line!

My apologies for the long absence! After months of thinking of nothing but the house, we welcomed the chance to have some fun at my family reunion in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

A great time was had by all, but now it's back to the task at hand (and foot and leg and arm -- you get the idea, lots of work): getting this house, especially the kitchen, ready for its photo debut. The rest of the house is going to take a few more years, make that decades, to become presentable, but the kitchen is about 90% finished!!!!

Yesterday, cabinet maker Mr. Honest and his son Kip came to install the butcher block island countertop, and it's a beauty! It's taking some time to get used to the sheer magnitude of it, but I think I'm going to love it. Mr. Hubby has already fallen hard for the maple addition to the family -- saying it's exactly what he wanted.

And I'm totally infatuated with the recycling bin that I designed (yes, it's bragging, but it's my first furniture design, and I'm just darn proud of the way Mr. Honest took my ideas and turned them into a cool and oh-so-handy addition to the cabinet family). It has a hinged top, so we can throw our empty wine bottles into the allotted glass bin; beer cans in the metal one and boxed wine into the cardboard container -- you get the idea.

Mr. Honest had the idea of making the lid out of butcher block, and it looks soooooo good. And he covered up the casters, so they're not visible, but we can move the unit around for more countertop space, like if we have a lot of dishes that need to be washed by hand (God forbid), I can move the cabinet over to provide more dish space by the sink.

Plus, Mr. H and Kip installed the door knobs and pulls. And although they created a sawdust tornado, the handles look crazy-good (IMHO, anyway).

So now it's time for paint, backsplash and a few odds and ends to get this kitchen finished and fabulous. So as you look at Mr. Hubby preparing dinner last night, know that it's not all complete -- but it's sure got me smiling ...

I don't think I've ever posted a pic of Mr. Honest and Kip, cabinet makers and so much more. 

Check out the recycling bin next to the island.

That island is huge!

Mr. Hubby admiring his nearly completed kitchen ...

Let There Be White

I don't know if it's a feeble attempt to regain my innocence or just an easy solution to brightening a dark house, but lately I've been wanting to spray paint everything white.

I started with the flea market mirror for LevelHead Jr.'s bathroom. I think it turned a switch in my brain to PERMA-WHITE.  Furniture, wall décor, even fake foliage has come under my ultra-white gun.

After the mirror, I was so thrilled with the results that I needed more --- like a Diet Coke addict waiting for the next aspartame hit. I found a pub table on Craig's List (another of my addictions -- will discuss separately). The owner required that I come to his house to inspect, so I dragged Mr. Hubby with me. And I'm glad I did. The guy, resplendent with tattoos on each forearm, invited me to the back of his condo to check out the table. The Hubster's massive dose of testosterone kept the CL man's actions in check.

After negotiating a good price (thanks, LevelHead Dad for teaching me fierce skills), I knew that I would be painting its oak color, oh-so trendy in the '80s, a beautiful white. I used a roller and brush for the transformation. The process took many coats, and now I'm stuck with some brush stroke marks despite my concerted efforts to eliminate them. But it still looks pretty good.

Unfortunately, I made a newbie blogger mistake and forgot to take a ''before'' picture, but you can see the ''after'' below. I still have plans for Mr. Hubby to use his mad painting skills and add something to the top -- will post when he completes that.

Over the weekend, I continued my epic journey and painted a wreath and the nightstand in LevelHead Jr.'s room. Now, the nightstand was a long time coming. When we moved to the new house, I made the naive statement to LHJ that she could decorate her room any way she wanted.

Little did I know she'd actually hold me to it. I have to run every decision by her -- she's the worst micro-manager I've ever had. So when we found the table at a flea market for $7, I thought we had found the deal of the day. Plus, I knew it would look adorable painted white.

But who knew LJH preferred wood in its natural state? So we negotiated for weeks, and I finally found her Achilles' heel: the china doll from The Great and Powerful Oz. So my table is turning out to not be the be bargain I originally found, but at least I'm getting my way.

And this time I ditched the paintbrush and went for a spray can with primer and paint in one. This stuff is fabulous -- the table barely needs a second coat.

I'm also spray painting a wreath, but this is proving a little more difficult. Apparently, fake leaves are not meant to be altered in color. But I am not so easily defeated and will keep trying.

Here are some pics from my White Album: the bistro table in the kitchen nook; before and after shots of LHJ's nightstand; and the Wreath That Doesn't Want To Be White ..

If Walls Could Talk ...

The hardwood floors are as good as they're gonna get. The repair dudes did a great job fixing the entrance to the living room -- it's all nice and level, but I can tell exactly where they stopped their work, thanks to the little dip that's still present.

Maybe I'm just too picky. I've probably said this a million times already, but if I had to do over again, I would rip out all the bad sub-flooring, replace it and have nailed hardwoods installed. But until I get my time machine perfected, the floating floors and I will have to learn to peacefully co-exist.

So let's move on to another room ... while I attended Chiggerpalooza at the fountain over the weekend, Mr. Hubster was painting the master bedroom. This may seem like a fairly straight-forward project, but the walls in that room are crazy-weird. When you move the roller one direction, you apply paint; when you move it the opposite way, the paints comes back off about half the time -- and often with a good amount of drywall.

I didn't have any problems when I painted below the chair rail in the same room last week (don't ask me why the previous owners installed a chair rail in a bedroom, but with all the projects to be done, we decided to leave it). The only difference we can pinpoint is wallpaper -- we had removed wallpaper where The Hubster was painting, but not where I had been.

So we're not sure what came first: did the previous owners hang wallpaper because the walls had issues, or were the walls being difficult because there was still lingering adhesive? That may be one of life's great unanswered questions.

But in the end, Mr. Hubby persevered, and the walls look great. Plus, we removed the funeral parlor drapes and replaced them with some sheers so the backyard view wouldn't be blocked.

I've got some before and after pics below, but please keep in mind that the room hasn't been decorated, just painted. I made the bed so it at least looked presentable. And if you look closely, you can see fabric wrapped around the existing small pillow; my intention is to sew a pillow cover -- that will probably be a blog post in and of itself since I don't sew ...

Fountain Follies

Spent a good part of the weekend cleaning, de-gunking, and generally trying to freshen up the outside fountain that the flooring guy accidentally fixed Friday.

I was equipped with rubber gloves so the general grossness of cleaning didn't bother me that much. It was more the tenacity of the dirt that got to me. I just couldn't get it clean -- at least as spic 'n span as I wanted it to be. And I didn't want to use any toxic chemicals that might kill the various wildlife that hangs out in our neighborhood. So it was me with vinegar and a toothbrush trying to make a discernible difference.

After coming to the realization that perfection was not going to be within reach, I accepted my pseudo-improvement and worked to get the fountain flowing. I couldn't figure out how to disconnect the tubing to flush it out, so all I was doing was sending fresh water through disgusting hoses.

But it didn't matter much anyway because there must be a hole in the water basin -- after filling it all the way, the pump would stop because the water level got too low. This happened numerous times -- not frustrating at all.

Plus, it was hard getting those resin rocks to allow the water to filter down in a way that made a pleasant noise. Most of the time, you could hear the deer chomping on the day lilies more than the comforting sound of negative ions being released.

And no matter what way you positioned them, the plastic rocks were obviously pretending to be a real fountain. So we decided that we'll check out the end of summer sales to see if we can get a better water feature cheap. The expensive electrical part has already been completed by previous owners; it's just a matter of getting a nice fountain with a powerful pump.

So that would be the end of this weekend's story except for some squatters who were living beneath the fountain: chiggers. Saturday night, I began itching about half-way through the night and woke up the next morning convinced we had beg bugs. But after some online research, I found that chiggers love high-moisture areas and can build quite the condominium complex if given the chance. And it can take 24-48 hours before you feel the bites.

My stomach and back look like they should be photographed for a medical journal. But I will not be posting pictures of my bitten body in order to prevent future nightmares; just know it's not pretty.

Tomorrow's update: the master bedroom stops looking like a funeral parlor.

Some pictures of the fountain cleaning and a happy pic post-clean-up before the fountain stopped working for the first time ... photos courtesy of LevelHead Jr.

Buy One, Get One Free

The flooring guys were back at it today, finishing up the repair. I don't know how well it's worked -- we're not allowed to walk on it until tomorrow.

Maybe that's part of their fiendish plan. They actually didn't make one darn change -- they just created a lot of noise and sweated profusely. Now they're heading to Vegas during this "Do Not Disturb'' interlude, never to be seen again.

I guess we'll find out tomorrow. But in the meantime, there's yet another reason to eat out; they did some work right in front of the refrigerator. Now I ask you, how can you prepare a healthy, veggie and fruit-rich meal without a fridge? So we're restaurant-bound yet again. But after this super-hot day, I'm not minding too much, as you might be able to tell.

As the guys were doing their thing, one of them approached me with a sheepish look on his face. "While I was outside plugging in the extension cord,'' he sayed coyly, ''I accidentally tripped the circuit and turned on your fountain.''

Well, two things came to mind as he talked. 1) Why did he feel the need to use an outside outlet, when there are about 2,000 of them indoors. And 2) we were about to call an electrician to get the fountain working. And he did it accidentally. What a hoot! (OK, my sense of humor has been permanently warped by this reno, so you may not find the irony of this situation, or am I being Alanis Morissette?)

So tomorrow my plans have changed. Instead of painting for the zillionth time, I'll be donning rubber gloves and cleaning out the nastiness that is the neglected water feature. Goodness knows what I'll find, maybe the greatest compost in the world. Then I'll attack the fountain with vinegar and a brush. Wonder if I can channel Tom Sawyer and somehow get LevelHead Jr. to do it. Doubt it, she'll see right through me, one of the downsides of having an intelligent child ...

The fountain, complete with murky water and general putridness of an unknown source ...