A Coatless Closet
Posted: January 6, 2012 Filed under: Housekeeping | Tags: coat closet, creativity, sewing, sewing machine 2 Comments »I turned this:
Into this:
In a city where the average number of sunny days is 244. Who needs a coat closet? Except for the chandelier, I built this miracle of engineering with leftover wallpaper, paint, and wood. It needs tweaking–brown on the floor, generic boxes covered with wallpaper, a new trash can–but, it works. And best of all, the sewing machine isn’t sitting on the breakfast table.
Extreme Home Makeover: Cherry’s Room Edition
Posted: June 20, 2011 Filed under: A Zany Life, Housekeeping, Joined at the Heart, Mouths of Babes, schnauzer follies, Writers Write | Tags: family, writers, writing Leave a comment »In the midst of pestilence and disease, I made over Cherry’s bedroom. New paint, curtains, light fixture. I pulled up the Berber and painted the concrete slab a glossy chocolate. The thing about painted concrete, besides the fact that it’s cheap and trendy, is it has to cure. Six days. You paint yourself out of the room and close the door. Or not. I couldn’t resist a peek. Or two.
Day four, I’m checking the sweaty surface. Will it ever dry? The seventy percent humidity isn’t helping. The phone rings. I turn my back for a millisecond. Talk. Hang up.
“Jasmine? Jazzy?” Where’s the puppy? ”Shit.Shit.Shit.Shit.Shit . . .”
She’s yaps from the middle of the shiny floor. “You can’t catch me I’m the Gingerbread Schnauzer.” Dance. Dance. Dance. Puppy paws on concrete.
Smack. Smack. Smack. “Shit.” The sound of black flip-flops on wet paint. “Jazzy, come. Jasmine, come.”
“Let’s dance, mom.”
“Damn it. Jazzy come.” She bounces. I stick. Her little feet float above the surface. Weighing less than three pounds is an advantage when walking on wet paint. She doesn’t dent the surface. My BMI leaves size seven footprints. ”Gotcha.” I grab the little rat and deposit my shoes in the trash.
On day four, the floor the gets another coat. Hence I live with the expression, watching paint dry.
Cashing Out
Posted: April 5, 2011 Filed under: Housekeeping, Writers Write | Tags: Trusting Your Instincts, writers, writing Leave a comment »I was looking for the shortest checkout line at the supermarket when she approached, a young woman in a t-shirt and jeans, alone. “Can you do me a favor?” She was quiet, but not shy. She made eye contact.
“What is it?” I’m on a schedule. I have kids to pick up at school and a pile of food to pay for, transport, and put away.
“I have my food stamp card, but I need cash to pay bills. Will you help me?’
Did she pick me because I wasn’t scary? I looked like her, thirty years from now. I have the same long hair, except it has silver streaks. I’m wearing faded jeans, sneakers, and a Marvel Comics t-shirt that reads, Betrayed across the chest. I didn’t have to think about it. She asked me to commit fraud.
The sad thing is that it’s harder than heck to qualify for food stamps in Texas. The paperwork is a nightmare. I’ve known people who were really needy. They gave up. Yet . . . this person was willing to risk cashing out.
“No.” I pushed my cart to Check-Out 9.
