Well, I would if I had some scissors that would actually CUT. And not just a bitch but paper as well. But I don't have scissors that will actually cut ANYTHING.
Six pairs of scissors in this here household and not a one of them will cut. Not even buttah.
And why are scissors called "pairs?" If you take them apart, they're pretty much useless to cut with. Of course, MY six pairs of scissors ARE together and yet they're pretty much useless to cut with.
Go figure.
My Grandma had a thing for scissors. Every time we'd take her shopping at Costco (one of her favorite places to shop in the world), she's always buy yet another multi-pack of scissors. When she died and we were going through her things, we found, I dunno, 5 or 6 unopened multi-packs of scissors. And heating pads. We found lots of heating pads, too. It must be an old person thing.
But I digress.
So I've had this little craft project I've wanted to work on and yes, I know you're scratching your heads because I? am not known for my crafts. No "Loving Hands at Home" come from THIS gal. I tried scrapbooking but I was really more interested in the little scrapbooking gadgets than in actually USING them to make scrapbooks. I'd go on Scrapbook Retreats up in the mountains with friends and while everyone else was hard at work on their scrapbooks, I'd be shuffling photos around and making it look like I was working hard. But in all honesty, I was really just there for the gossip and to get the hell away from the kids for the weekend.
But I digress.
I've wanted to work on this little project for quite a while and have slowly been going about getting the materials together and today, I was ready to get this party started and to start, I needed to start cutting some, well, stuff. I can't tell you what it is because I'm not going to tell you what my little project is until it is finished and you can see for yourself and I'll explain then the whole point of this project.
Anyway. I get the scissors and attempt to start cutting and the frickin' scissors would not cut. My FINGERS would have cut better than these scissors. So I go in search of another pair. Which would not cut. And another pair. Which would not cut.
Six pairs later, I have accomplished diddly squat except take a photo of the six pairs of absolutely useless scissors we have in this here household:
As you can see, these scissors are pretty battered since TheManTheMyth and Things 1 and 2 like to use them to cut through bone, sheet metal, concrete, drywall and anything else that will make the blades duller than a Southern Baptist wedding reception.
I'm pretty sure that at least 2 of those scissors are from my Grandma's collection and she's been gone for 16 years so, yeah.
I'd better head on over to the Zhay and buy some scissors. And I will HIDE them and not let anyone know that there actually are scissors in this here household that will actually cut.
It'll be our little secret.
Guess what? Guess what? Guess what?
Last night, I COOKED DINNER!!! And when I say "cooked" I don't mean I heated something up in the microwave. This meal involved an honest-to-goodness stove and pots and pans and stirring and seasoning and oh, it was wonderful.
Now I'm not a gourmet chef or anything but I sure missed eating "real" food, cooked here at home.
TheManTheMyth moved our old stove back into the kitchen and hooked it up in the new spot, where it looks pretty ridiculous but hey, it works and I can cook:
And how it looks from the other side:
Admit it, you're all jealous of my fancy kitchen. And are wondering why we'd want to get rid of that Fab Harvest Gold and Brown tile on the counters and floor. Call us crazy. And why yes, I DO watch A LOT of HGTV. The TV is pretty much set to HGTV. Until TMTM comes home from work. He can only take so much of the "Decorate Your Home to Sell and Go House Hunting!" shows.
Anyway.
My spaghetti was delicious and there were sighs of happiness when empty plates were pushed back. And Thing 2 actually said, "It's so nice eating REAL food again!" as she ate her SpaghettiO's (uh, "real food?") because she prefers that to MY spaghetti, the Philistine.
Of course I had to wash the pots and pans BEFORE I could use them because of the amount of debris that had found its way into the cookware cabinet. I tell you, it's amazing the places I've been finding debris and drywall dust from this remodel.
I was so happy at having some semblance of normalcy that I promptly cleaned the kitchen. Well, as best I can clean a torn apart kitchen that is missing the upper cabinets and my dishes have to put into packing boxes located in my office after they're washed.
But I can deal with that because I can cook again!
I survived another Labor Day weekend and when I say, "survived" I don't mean that I partied like it was 1999. I mean I got through another weekend of Kitchen Remodeling Fun.
On Saturday, TheManTheMyth sanded the new ceiling and because it tends to be a bit messy, which is a HUGE understatement, he recommended that it would probably be a good idea for everyone to not be home while he does this. I believe his exact words were, "You guys need to get the hell out of here."
Subtle yet to the point.
So Thing 2 and I headed over to sister Bippy's house and hung out for a couple of hours. Thing 1 was out with Someone and Gracie Lou was hiding under the bed because she got a spanking from her Daddy for peeing on the floor for the 3rd night in a row.
And then Thing 1 informs me via text that he's volunteered to dog sit a dog that his friend is dog sitting for someone else but because she had a soccer game out of town, a back-up dog sitter was needed. He swore this dog wouldn't be any trouble and he'd keep it in his room and he would be returned in the morning.
And I'm all, "Kevin. No. Our house is torn apart, it's a mess, Gracie is being all weird and the last thing we need is to have another dog around." And I figured that was that.
Several hours later, I deem it safe to return home and we pretty much walked into a Winter Wonderland. Every single surface was covered in a thick layer of fine white dust despite the plastic sheeting curtains everywhere to prevent this sort of thing. It so didn't work.
I spent hours vacuuming floors, walls, surfaces, furniture, ceilings and it still looks and feels as if someone broke open a bag of flour and swung it around in a circle.
Then I hear Thing 1 call to me from his room. I open the door and, well, I fell in love with the cutest, sweetest little dog:
Oh, he was the most precious little boy. He was so well-behaved, unlike our own Gracie Lou, and gentle and HOUSEBROKEN and happy-go-lucky and I just adored him.
Gracie Lou, however, did not think little Luke was all that and a bag of chips and showed her displeasure over the fact that we allowed another dog in the house by leaving a nice steaming pile on the floor. And then she hid under the bed and sulked for the remainder of Luke's visit.
Gracie Lou might be a sweet and loving girl but Girlfriend has more issues than People Magazine.
Moving along.
During this remodeling, cooking has been a major issue. We're all so sick of having take-out and/or microwave meals. So yesterday I decided I was going to make a Crock-pot pot roast for dinner. I've done this before and it always came out perfect.
But because my 22 year old Crock Pot is pretty small, I decide to borrow my sister's much larger one with the removable crock.
So I head to the store and buy a nice chuck roast, some potatoes and the rest of the ingredients and I throw everything in the crock, plug it in out on the patio (due to a lack of working outlets in the kitchen) and go back to my endless vacuuming.
About 15 minutes later, I ask TheManTheMyth if he smells something burning, like an electrical fire. Or like someone is welding some metal nearby. He nods and we start looking for the source.
It's the Crock-pot.
But nothing seems to be amiss, it's not sparking or smoking and the burning metal smell eventually goes away so we continue to go about our business and for the rest of the day, the wonderful smell of pot roast fills the air.
It's now dinner time and I get ready to dish up some delicious pot roast with potatoes and mushrooms and gravy and I spear the hunk of meat and the fork bounces back.
And I'm all, "Uh, what the heck?" and I try to stab the meat again and again, the fork bounces back.
I get the meat out of the crock and onto a cutting board and instead of fall-apart tender meat, I'm looking at a large hunk of shoe leather. And it was a funny charcoal color. And the potatoes that were still uncooked despite being added to the pot at the same time as the meat.
I'm staring at this massive meal FAIL and I want to cry because I'm so sick of not being able to have a decent meal and TheManTheMyth says, "I guess we're having pizza for dinner. Again."
But wait! It gets better!
While we're eating our pizza (again), I ask him what is wrong with the barbecue. And do you know what he said? Do you?
He says, "Nothing is wrong with the barbecue; it works just fine."
Exsqueeze me?
Baking powder?
And I yell, "THEN WHY DID YOU TELL ME THE BARBECUE WASN'T WORKING?????"
And he says, "When did I say this?" and we go back and forth and he insists that he never said the barbecue wasn't working and I ask him why, when every single night I ask "what do you want for dinner" did he not once say, "Go get a couple of steaks and we'll barbecue" instead of having yet more fast food?
And his reply was, "I dunno."
All this time, we could have been grilling steaks, chops, sausages, chicken, fish, vegetables but nooooooooooo, we've been eating crap instead.
The only reason he's not dead is because I don't want to be stuck with an unfinished kitchen.
So now the big question is, "What's for dinner tonight?"
