Archive for the 'bling blog' Category



Let’s try a poll

Lately, I’ve felt I’ve lost a lot of readership. And because I didn’t have that much to begin with, the loss is heartfelt. I worry that I’ve abandoned my readership in writing about topics my dear readers might not care for. Did I go into too much detail about my post-labor tribulations? Answer: yes. Have I bored all of you with my incessant talk about a new closet and bathroom? Answer: yes. Have I neglected to write anything about the coming football season? Spoiler alert: see above answers. In short, please help me get this blog back on track so I can have a more meaningful relationship with, my favorite people: people who read my blog.

Bathroom 2.0

In reinventing our entire home (at least it felt that way), one of the priorities was redoing the downstairs bathroom. It really wasn’t that bad, but if it was going to become our main bathroom (which it was and now is) I really wanted some updates. Number one (no pun intended) necessary new item was a toilet. I swear the old one was about six thousand gallons per flush. I also wanted tile flooring (it had vinyl tile) and a new sink. Oh, and a tiled shower. Eeks! I didn’t think this was too crazy, but the contractor we had do some things for us insisted that we did not want a tiled floor or a tiled shower. We didn’t? I really thought we did. Hmm. Upon hearing this, my mom insisted we head out to Nonn’s to see whether they believed us when we said we wanted things tiled. They did. Thanks mom! They took my credit card number and the rest is history.

I took crappy before shots and my after shots aren’t great, either. It’s a small space so it’s kinda hard to photograph. I think you get the sense of the thing, though.

Old toilet and toilet paper holder

Old toilet and old toilet paper holder

New toilet

New toilet!

Toilet paper holder

Thanks to Home Depot for the awesome new (and so easy to use) toilet paper holder! Why companies make such craptastically hard-to-use models is beyond me.

I think you get a pretty decent sense of the flooring difference in the above photos, too. Vinyl versus tile. Though our contractor guy insisted “they make really beautiful vinyl these days,” I have to disagree. I’m not against vinyl as an immutable rule, but geesh: it can’t compare to tile in a bath. Plus, because the bath is teeny it seemed the one place in the house we could probably afford to tile. Alright, what’s next? Ah! The shower! There wasn’t really anything wrong with the previous shower stall, but it just wasn’t very welcoming. And as someone who already showers a lot less frequently than she should, I didn’t need yet another excuse not to rinse off. [I had never showered in the downstairs bath — that’s seven years of avoidance — until we got the new shower.]

Shower stall

The previous shower stall

One of the loves of my life: white subway tile

Shower stuff

And let’s have one more, shall we?

From the doorway

And let’s look at some sink-on-sink action:

A very loft-vibe with its exposed piping

And the pedestal sink with its pipes covered up like the Puritan it is

What else? Well, I kinda wanted to glam the space up. I suspected divorce could be in my future if I asked Aaron to paint again, so we kept the wall color (which I actually like even more now), and I just added some bling with chrome-y accessories and some cleanliness with white, ceramic toiletry necessities.

Glass shelf with what-nots

Storage

Deer head

That last piece was just added tonight (it cost me $20, but honestly I think it’s my favorite thing in the room after the tile). We’re still waiting on one light fixture, and we need a little caulk here and there, but this is pretty much our new bathroom. I really hope you like it.

A list

Just because I feel like making a note of it, the following are the home-related tasks that were done during my leave (not by us, but by other people who took our money to make our abode better):

  • Heating and air conditioning checked for the first time in the over-seven-year period I have owned the condo;
  • Several new windows and window parts were replaced (this took awhile and a couple of trips and a bizarre greeting to the GAOOG — “Namaste,” the window guy send upon their meeting);
  • Dryer maintenance (this also took multiple trips and was probably necessary because of cloth diapering, which has led to unprecedented amounts of laundry); and
  • Bamboo flooring put in on the rest of the first floor (we had put it in our bedroom in early 2011, if you recall).

Now, since Aaron has been on leave, we have accomplished even more. And, by ‘we,’ I again mean that AO & I have accomplished it by asking other, more experienced and talented people to do the work:

  • A walk-in closet was built with new shelving (ordered from Easy Closets, a company I could not recommend more) and racks and lighting;
  • A remodeled bath, which includes new floor tile, a tiled shower, a new toilet and sink, new towel bars and shelf and accessories; and
  • New carpet for the downstairs.

Essentially, we have a whole new house! Now, who wants to see pictures?

Where we spend our money or why I will never buy anything from Menards

I make choices every day in the ways in which I choose to spend our money. We all do. I also frequently make compromises when I make those choices. I think most of us do. For example, I was at Ace on Saturday, looking at shower heads for our new (!!!!) shower. I picked up the one I wanted, which is the same one we had installed in our upstairs shower, and looked at where it had been made. China. I picked up another brand and guess what? China. And the third one? China. I had exhausted all of the brands and left the store after purchasing the one I had initially wanted. I didn’t feel great about it, but I left the store unconvinced that I could find a shower head that was made stateside. I was bummed.

On the other hand, Aaron & Bear & I were recently at Costco and trying to find puppy treats that weren’t made in China. This search was prompted by some news about unsafe Chinese dog treats, as well as Gracie getting sick not too long after ingesting some previously purchased Costco treats made across the Pacific (whether it was related to the origin of the treats is unknown). After seeing “Made in China” a couple of times, we found some made in the old U.S. of A. and smiled broadly. Hooray! It was a small victory, of course, but we relished it. And so did puppy.

On yet another hand, I buy a million things all the time without even looking at where they are made. I’m not proud of this, but I admit it. I try hard to make more informed choices. I try to buy local, but I admit to frequent trips to Target and tons of internet shopping. I love to patronize local eateries, but I also adore a McDonald’s diet Coke more often than not.

In any event, one place that I hope that I can always say – unless their practices change drastically – I have never purchased anything from is Wisconsin’s own, Menards. It makes me sad that it’s a Wisconsin-owned company that tops my list for ‘most abhorrent business,’ but so be it. I’m sure there are other companies that are as bad as Menards (which makes me sad to say), but because it’s a *local* company, I pay closer attention to its wrongdoings.

For me, it all started when I started seeing Ben. I wasn’t really aware of Menards before becoming close to Ben. I mean, I knew it existed, but I never thought much about it. Ben used to say we could never spend our money there — something to do with dumping in the Eau Claire River. That was pretty much good enough for me. I was, after all, only 22 years old. That prohibition stayed with me a long time, though. Probably, at least in part, because it was never a great sacrifice to boycott Menards.

Time marched on, as it does, and then came this. Of course the lawsuit and the illegal, immoral and abhorrent behavior leading up to this came well before the supreme court’s decision, but the decision highlighted for the country the indefensible behavior of the Menard company.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to our contractor about what we wanted done in the basement to make it something we can live with for the next few years. He had previously spoken the taboo word ‘Menards’ to me, but I had been able to ignore it. This time, after  telling me the best selection for a certain item was at Menards, I told him, somewhat sheepishly, that I could not shop at Menards. He said, “Yeah, well, John Menard is a pri–” and cut himself off. I stepped in. “He’s an ass%^&$#,” I said. The contractor then rattled off to me how much Menard is delinquent in his state taxes. He made it more than clear that he is not a fan.

For whatever reason, I was thinking about all of this today. And so I did a little Google search while Bear was napping and I came across this. In case I wasn’t clear, I’ll never shop at Menards. I guess I hope you won’t, either.

Middle class in America

In college, I spent an academic year abroad in Florence, Italy. It was pretty much the greatest year of my life. I have a million memories from that time but one in particular has been flooding my memory inbox the last year or so. During our spring break, my friends Andrea, Jon & Andy and I decided to go on a trip we called Operation Behind the Iron Curtain. Of course, the Iron Curtain had been opened by this time – March 1997 – but we all remembered it and thought we were very clever for our name and brave in our exploration. We flew from Rome to Athens and then took a bus around Greece for a bit (and hitchhiked up Mt. Olympus) and then took a bus into Sofia, Bulgaria and finally another bus from Sofia to Istanbul. The trip was really something. One of the things that really stands out for me, though, despite all of this time, is a guy we met on the bus from Sofia to Istanbul. I can’t remember where he was from. Somewhere in South America maybe. Anyway, my friend Jon really took to him and they were supremely chatty on the bus and the rest of us sort of worried this guy was going to latch onto us when we got off the bus in Turkey. We weren’t xenophobes or anything, but the guy just didn’t seem very, well, nice.

I don’t remember a lot of what he said, but I do remember this. He said that he would rather be a peasant anywhere (I actually think he named a place, but I can’t remember where it was) than be middle class in America. I was floored. I seem to remember Jon nodding knowingly. I had never heard someone say such a thing before. He wasn’t disparaging suburbia or strip malls or chain restaurants; he was insulting millions of people, including me and my family and pretty much everyone I knew because of their bank accounts. The statement feels as arrogant to me today as it did fifteen years ago. The difference is today I can’t shrug it off as a foolishly ignorant, condescending and pretentious thing said by a young man who had too much privilege and too little education and compassion. Today I see that young person’s sentiment all around me. The assault on America’s working class is as real as it is heartbreaking. And I don’t know what to do about it.

I try to buy American-made products, but not nearly as much as I should. I cry when I read about the unemployed and those that are losing their homes. I refinanced our mortgage so that it would no longer be held by Bank of America, but I have a half dozen credit cards that are held by banks that may be equally greedy and heartless and irresponsible. I don’t know when things got so bad, but I do know that it feels that I am complicit in letting it happen.

The thing that felt most important to me about last year’s protests and the recall movement was that it was more than a million people coming together. Teachers and professors and fire fighters and cops and iron workers and plumbers and lawyers and electricians and professors and paralegals and custodians – all working together, all singing together, all marching together. It felt like we all realized that we are in this together. Our lives and livelihoods are completely intertwined and we would not be taken in by The Rich’s effort to turn us against each other. We would refuse to fight each other for scraps and pennies. We would stand up for our neighbors and in turn stand up for ourselves.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it doesn’t feel like it’s getting better. I hope that’s not true. I hope that we realize what we used to know: a rising tide truly does raise all boats. I want Mollybear to have the dream, which I’ve always understood was to be middle class in America.