Mirrørs

Woody and I went into Atlanta the other weekend to see Flight of the Conchords perform at the Fox Theater. They were hilarious, but the real highlight was a scintillating trip to a stationary store that was roughly the temperature of a womb and Woody's first trip to Ikea. We only budgeted an hour to get through the Scandinavian megamall of fürniture so our trip was more Home Alone than HGTV. But we did get mirrors (or mirrørs) for the Jack and Jill bathroom:

You may notice there is a still a level on top of the mirrørs. Woody is a very precise worker and got the mirrørs exactly level. Check out me pointing to the remarkable evidence!


Just so you really believe us....

Q: Who do YOU think was wielding this tool?

Was it:
a. Woody
b. Rachel
c. Madison
d. sweet old Ms. Simmons across the street

Survey says? B! The (second, ok third) most spindly person on the list after the two old biddies. As Woody was laying bricks to our garden path, I was trying not to drive the extremely pointy (as opposed to the very sharp) end of the mattock through my skull on the upswing. My aim with this garden instrument was less than perfect but on the upside it did make me feel like I was in my very own version of "O Brother Where Art Thou?" All I needed was some Dapper Dan pomade and a fake beard.

My questionable rock-breaking skills notwithstanding, the garden is starting to shape up! We've put in herbs, tomatoes, peppers, radishes, beets, papaya, ugli fruit, and your garden variety South Carolina black truffle.

As you can see, there is a path through the beds to facilitate Woody doing all the weeding. I will helpfully spritz the whole production with the hose at convenient breaks in my tanning regime.

We also cleaned off and rearranged the back porch so such outdoor furniture as castoff toilets and rotting pieces of plywood figure less prominently in our outdoor living:

Madison has already taken up residence under the table and taken to wondering when we will get around to grilling brats and dropping them.

For real...nicest piece of disturbing junk. Period.

Some of you may remember the previous honoree of "Nicest Piece of Disturbing Junk" -- an impressive bison keychain found by Kenneth. Over Spring Break, a new piece of disturbing junk blew that bison out of the water:

Woody claims to have cut the diamond himself using the tile saw. True, he did excuse himself after our delicious dinner of short ribs (our first dinner sitting at a table in the dining room, fancy I know) but I didn't hear the telltale whine of whirling wet blade on porcelain. I say so long as he lets me keep it, I'll believe he made the pretty thing out of Sculpey clay if he wants me to.

Working out some knots

Despite my hard work vacuuming the upstairs, the only thing around here that has gotten a nice hot oil rub down from Woody is this:

Sure, I'd walk around holding my neck or muttering about my lower back, but Masseuse Moore was too busy going Shiatsu on our kitchen island to pay me any mind. For a whole weekend, oil, oil and more oil. Would that I looked this buttery and toned.

"I am never going outside to go again"

Maddy acquaints herself with the feet after square feet of tile now completed in the kitchen and back hallway. I swear I could hear her recalibrating her bladder and thinking "Yes, I have been such a good potty trained beagle for so long, it is time for me to have a mid-life crisis and I know just the tile where I'm going to start..."

Woody is now counting the tiles until he never has to use the tile saw again -- only the tiny powder room remains! I told him I'd be happy with a large well-placed rug or maybe some packed-down gravel in there (for a rustic look) but he is all particular. Another view without the old biddy beagle:

Better than Splash with a mermaid

is Splash with this man:

Backsplash, I mean, backsplash. (And here my weakness for burly mermen reveals itself...). Woody pretended to be intent on finishing the impressive backsplash and ignored my repeated requests for him to warble "Under the Sea" while putting up sticky tile mastic. I swear, he really never takes my needs into account. Here is the result of his handiwork:

Woody and I agree that this makes our kitchen look even FANCIER! We feel like we're in one of those fancy home design magazines except we have no countertop on our kitchen island right now and we don't wear heavy plastic angular eye glasses and we don't have a bazillion bucks.

Here's a closer view:

We are accepting any and all offers to clean our stove. We will cook for you. Just clean our stove. Please.

517's furniture waits to see who is next...

Will Woody seize you, rickety side table? Will he realize that after being vacuumed thoroughly by Rachel, upholstered chair, you are in fact not gray? Will he attempt to salvage the one serviceable wooden chair in the house? WHICH of you will he choose to receive a gentle rain of white high gloss paint?

Woody wrangled door after cabinet door under the paint sprayer today and, thankfully, didn't get to the rest of the furniture. The result? The beginning of polished cabinets in the kitchen! In addition he went about painting window trim which makes our already towering windows look huge!