Mommy Dearest

It's getting close to a year since I left Idaho for good.  Which also means it's been nearly a year since I've laid eyes on my mommy.  I talk to her a lot on the phone, but it's not quite the same as having her physically near me.  I miss Sunday dinners, and going to lunch, and...  ok I mainly miss having someone help me with all my grunt work - which I could always con my mom into doing with me.  For instance, it would have been really helpful to have her here this week when I decided to start ripping out the hideous shower in my basement the previous owner began to build:

Look at that tile work!  I just took that pic for a before and after montage I hope to brag about one day, but any idiot can see what a HORRIBLE job Maria and her cronies did on that shower.  Look at the floor!  And what of the walls?  You can't see it but each wall has a different decorative strip on it.  Did they just have a bunch of leftover tile that they wanted to use up?  Did someone give them mismatched tile for free?  Or is it what I expect and the previous owners had no clue what they were doing and actually thought their handiwork looked good?  Although I will likely never know the truth behind the idiocy, I started ripping out Maria's shower for three very good reasons:

• I get bored to tears working on one job and ripping something out keeps me on my game

• It costs a minimum of 35 bucks to haul stuff to the dump so I'm trying to fill up the truck bed completely

• My mom is coming to visit in a few weeks and if she sees what a trash hole I'm living in, she might help me fiddle around on stuff without me guilting her into it!

Before you get excited and feel sorry for my mom...  DON'T!  She's to blame for her own predicament because she didn't dump me in a field and run away from me when I was younger.  Additionally, she's a lunatic just like me and deserves no mercy.  Think I'm kidding?  Check this out:

I had one lonely hot dog bun I wanted to get rid of so I toasted it up for Emma for breakfast and told her it was "New England Style Toast."  She was happy as a clam to eat it, and I saved Mother Earth by not wasting food.  What does that crime have to do with my mom?  When I was younger, she was constantly renaming things to trick us into thinking we were fancy.  When I hoodwinked Emma, I actually beamed with pride because it felt exactly like something my mom would think up.

I was also feeling sentimental towards my mom this week because my youngest baby controls my life just like her baby still does.  No matter how much I try to resist, Bubba has me wrapped around her finger and it's shameful.  Look at these two videos I Snapchatted a few days ago when I was trying (unsuccessfully as usual) to get her into bed:

If you think her baby, who almost has two babies of his own, does not run her life...  Well then you haven't seen those two hanging out together.  It's disgusting.  Take my word for it.

All of the above had me pondering my mom a lot this week, but when I stepped on the scale and saw that I really needed to lose a few pounds, I realized I needed a better food scale than the cheap one Jared bought at Walmart.  My mommy has a really nice food scale that I commandeered for months (ok fine years) at a time when I was an Idahoan, because I was too cheap to buy my own.  I bought the exact scale my mom has and that little sucker set me back 50 bucks!  I was appalled:

but then happy, because I know how good that scale is, and am confident it's going to help me lose some weight before summer really gets going around here.  If I had NOT stolen my mom's scale for years on end, I might never have known what food scale would have made me the most happy.  If you haven't figured it out yet, this whole post is a back door way to say I miss my mom and am getting excited to see her in person in a few weeks.  I love you Preen, but I hope I made it clear you better be bringing your tool belt if you want a ride to my place from the airport...

Slow but Steady

Today an old family friend texted me to tell me he was looking back on my blog and couldn't believe I've been in Rhode Island for two years.  This good friend shall remain nameless because he is sort of neurotic and worried about who might know he is reading my blog.  He is also rather rude because he immediately began to ridicule me for the amount of destruction I have already kicked up in my new house.  I had to admit to him that every word was true, and that even if I wanted to move, I wouldn't be able to talk another sucker into buying my trash heap right now.  I started thinking about what I was doing in Idaho right before I left for Rhode Island (forgive the bad selfie.  I am not my teens):

And guess what?  I'm in the middle of it here.  I sometimes feel overwhelmed because literally everything in this house needs to be updated.  I wonder why I can't just sometimes be normal and either buy a new construction home, or else buy something that's already been renovated.  However, I'm too cheap to pay for something that's been renovated, and can't stand new construction homes.  Plus, there's a satisfaction in seeing something transform underneath my rather skilled hands (and yes, I do say so myself).  So although I can't stand my horrible rotting fence and the huge vegetation pile leftover from my yard cleansing last summer...

and though I detest that my three season porch still has a pile of garbage underneath it, I have to remind myself that I've hauled away tons of garbage already and am slowly getting the jungle that dominated the entire yard tamed with borders and mulch, and almost have flowers I started from seed ready to be planted:

I also have to remember that the idiotic half walls Maria and her amigos built on top of cheap ass tile that wasn't sealed properly...

Have been nearly replaced with a lovely new storage room that Jared and I built with our bare hands.  Here's the front and back...

And although the lovely wet bar and mural of what I am guessing is part of the Azores is still a part of my life...

Every trace of Maria and her packrat nonsense is gone from my finished front room:

So go ahead and laugh nameless family friend.  I'll have the last laugh in the end.  And for the umpteenth time:  So long Maria.  You still don't get your house, your pipe, or the VFW hat I just found in the attic back... so don't even ask...