Ho ho ho, y'all

Merry Christmas Eve!

It's totally my favorite day of the year and I hope you're all having good days, too. Enjoy the holidays!

P.S. I've got the entire week between Christmas and New Year's off and I have some serious DIY dreams to bring to life.

P.P.S. Plus, we're planning a trip to the permit office so here's to hoping we will soon be posting about some electrical fixes (we're upping the R-value of our basement insulation and so will need to bring the outlets out an inch or two to accommodate the difference).

P.P.P.S. I'm even hosting the tiniest, trashiest NYE party of all time, and I'm happy to share my trailerific decor secrets with you. Get ready for some super fun projects in 2011!

Get carded

(True story: I have not been carded in like a year. I'm 27, so this should surprise no one. But, when I do get carded (on those rare occasions when the waitress is either drinking herself or her manager is eagle-eyeing her), I almost want to thank the server for mistaking me for a younger version of myself. (But I don't because that's something dorky old people do and I might be old, but I'm still hip and down with it, as I think the kids say.) I'm old and clearly, all those late nights and very full red party cups becoming very empty very fast are showing.)

Moving on!

So....this is how a visibly older woman such as myself displays her Christmas cards:

The sign is one I picked up at Gordmans years ago in an after-Christmas sale (for $6! I'm thrifty and old. I'm the next Sophia Petrillo.). I use clothes pins to stick cards to it and it builds as we get closer to Christmas.

What better way to remind myself that even though I am old and worn and leathery, I still have my friends.

Get off my lawn!

Basement Boogie: Treasure Hunt

We made basement progress last night! It had been a while since we got to go down there ourselves and get our hands dirty, so this little step really had us jazzed. (We've spent the past three weeks or so negotiating with the window dudes and getting a little help from the pros when it came to a pesky shower leak.)

Our next big step was to figure out how everything down there is wired. You see, our old basement had really thin and cheap insulation and of course, we are stepping it up a notch. This means the walls will be thicker and we'll have to bring every outlet and switch an inch or two out so they aren't all sunken into the wall. 

This means we had to map out the wiring, which is pretty tricky when you have a finished ceiling across most of the basement. 

We were on the hunt for junction boxes. Once we found those, we traced which lights and outlets they went to and then determined the breaker they were connected to. We got through 2/3 of the basement just fine.

 In the fireplace room though, we have a finished ceiling and no way of seeing how all the wired connect. We think we might now, but you kinda don't want to be halfway sure about electrical work. So, Hubs is conjuring plans up and will take his questions to the pros and the permit office before we move forward.

 So, yes, it was a baby step. But, it's one baby step closer to being finished! I'm told by our resident basement expert (that's Hubs) that after we get the electrical figured out, we get to do electrical demo (and who doesn't love demo?), vapor barriers, insulation, more vapor barriers, electric rebuilds and then we wait for the window guys (they're thinking they'll install in early February). But then (oh, glorious then!), we drywall. We paint. We floor. We trim. We celebrate. We collapse. We re-emerge into the daylight. We cease being mole people.

Because 2011 is the year Bigger, Better, Best goes underground.

A time when I wasn't cold

A while back (right after our little NoCal adventure), I hopped a plane with two goofy gals and went to surprise Brittney (who is a blogger, but first and foremost a real life friend, so please do not interpret this surprise to be creepy in anyway. Note to blog-only friends: I promise to never ring your doorbell unless asked to do so.) for her birthday.

Hilarity ensued.

We ate burgers, hilariously.

We got just buzzed enough to still call ourselves classy ladies at a beach bar.

We strolled around the beach, as classy dames are wont to do.

We (I) posed with animal statues on the Santa Monica pier.

We went really swanky and watched the sunset from a rooftop bar populated by people who, unlike myself, were not clad entirely in clothes from Target. Apparently, that is kind of the norm at chic rooftop bars in California. Who knew?

We ate Italian food and told completely inappropriate stories way too loud and made the tables next to us uncomfortable (I imagine anyway).

We rode a bus. It was my first time on a bus that was not taking me to and from the State Fair. Ain't I a big city gal now?

We ate awesome breakfast sandwiches.

We rode tandem bikes on the beach. In flip-flops! In November! Oh me, oh my.

We ate at Don Antonio's and spotted the Broke Ass Bride and her dude, but were too busy stuffing our faces to say hello.

We had a good time.

Have you ever surprised anyone by just showing up one day? 

That's the night that the lights went out in Iowa.

Don't worry, nobody got shot or was acting adulterous in this blackout.

Saturday night the weather in Iowa and the rest of the Midwest was nasty. Freezing temps, biting winds, snow, ice - they even started cancelling church for Sunday morning. Hubs and I hunkered down with some homemade pizza, some presents to wrap and White Christmas.

Then.

The power flickered.

"Isn't it weird that we've lived here almost two years and we've never had a major power outage?" I ask, clearly dooming us.

"Yeah," says Hubs (such a talker, that one!).

Flicker. Flicker. Hubs goes on a beer run to the corner store because it's going to be a long night. Opening line of White Christmas. Rousing rendition of Gee, I Wish I was Back in the Army.


Flicker. Flicker. Dark.

Hmmmm, I think to myself (who else would I be thinking to, by the way? I'm not as telepathic as I'd like to be). If the power is out and stays out, so does the heat. Panic. Panic! It's going to be cold tonight! We have a cold-blooded turtle! Ay yi yi!

Hubs returns and creates a calming environment.

Guess Who, a wind up radio and some sweet sweet High Life got us through.

The power stayed off until about 4:00 a.m., but we only know that because our neighbor told us. Around midnight, we packed up the reptile and cats and made our way a few blocks to the Ramada.

Don't even pretend to look surprised.

House sure does look good, Clark.

Remember how Hubs and I were totally stoked to deck the halls and take home the gold in our neighborhood Christmas light contest?

Well, judging was this weekend and we completely kicked everyone's ass. Which is totally the point of this joyous season, right?

I'm going to have to ask you to ignore the wretched quality of this picture. Santa's little helpers have not figured out how to make the true majesty of this winter wonderland shine through in photos just yet.

Truth be told, we were a little shocked that we were in the top three (even though only seven houses were in the contest and five were called out as awesome - Hubs was still rendered speechless). We lacked colorful elements and I'm pretty sure the whole thing would have crumbled without the wreath. Another clincher? I turned down all the lights inside (unlike this photo which I snapped on my way home from the gym one night) and had the Christmas tree on so as to create a warm and cozy glow. Victory, it seems, is in the details.

We won a $25 gift card to our local mall and (poor Hubs) I declared that this set a precedent and by golly we WILL win every year until we are old and shuffley and have to move to Shady Pines. I mean, you want a house you can be proud of, right Russ?

Trashy

Looks like Niles is more raccoon than cat.
PS don't mind all those High Life cans. We haven't taken the recycling out in a while!

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What's cookin', good lookin'?

A few years ago, I was invited to a cookie exchange. All the other attendees were Wives With KitchenAids (so, cookie ganstas) and at the time, I was an apartment-dwelling non-cook, non-domestically inclined, non-Wife who mistakenly thought my cookie quality wouldn't matter and we'd all just have some wine.

I showed up with flat, pathetically gray and mealy raspberry cookies and only my sparkling social awkwardness to protect me.

I was not invited to another cookie exchange.

I vowed to someday make cookies that did not incite coos of, "Oh, they're finnnnnne. You triiiiiiied. Must have been a bad recipeeeeeee."

And so:

Sunday was all about baking for Hubs and I. We locked the cats in the bathroom (because "cat-hair" isn't really a cookie flavor I've come to love just yet), cracked open some Honker's Ale and went to town on some Christmas cookies.

Our plan was simple: recreate two family favorites and try one new thing.

The family favorite I bring to our new little familia is iced sugar cookies. They sound so simple - just get some slice-and-bakes (because from scratch was found to be an utter disaster in the Great Cookie Mess of '96) and whip up some powered sugar frosting and voila! Christmas is here for certain.

Not. So.

Of course, using cookie cutters waaaay more fun than slicing and baking. And no, one roll is not enough. And no, I'm not going to just slap some white icing on here and call it a day, where is your Christmas spirit?! These cookies should be lovingly slaved over for hours - your eyes should be numb from the intricate designs. And really, it doesn't matter because by the time the icing sets, the design will be all runny and your sweet "Hubs and Alexson 4-eva" cookie will start to look like a rather unsavory cartoon of some moose.

That's totally part of the tradition, though. I'm nothing without these little buggers at Christmas.

Hubs' family cookies are a little less dramatic, but no less tasty. For him, we made apricot and pecan kolaches. Last year, we bought the wrong brand of apricot filling and it almost ruined Christmas. Luckily, we found a can of the good stuff that looked like it might have been pulled from a Cold War-era bomb shelter and all is right with our little cookie universe.

And finally, we decided to make gingerbread men (only one lady among them and she isn't exactly dressed ladylike. See photo below). These we did from scratch with some good, spicy ginger from Penzey's. They turned out excellent and we dipped half in melted chocolate and the other half got the cream cheese frosting treatment.

When the day was done, we had been baking for nine hours and had about seven dozen cookies. Seven dozen cookies to be proud of. Seven dozen cookies we can bring to work and give to neighbors without shame. I'm the Eliza Doolittle of baking.


Move your bloomin' ass, indeed, 'Enry 'Iggins. I've come a long way!

Clemen-tiny dancer

Before we begin, do you also get the words to Tiny Dancer and Private Dancer confused? I do and it's really awkward for a) the obvious reasons and b) because I'm pretty sure the only time I've ever heard Private Dancer, it was sung by that sweaty songtress, Mary Katherine Gallagher.



Not in this clip, though, because of all the wonders this ol' internet has brought us, not one of them is a clip of the Tina Turner SNL skit from 1997. Thanks for nuffin, World Wide Web.

Anyway.

All this to tell you that I'm currently averaging two clementines a day. We bought two crates of them and it's been glorious. A feast of mini citruses. No seeds. I'd never really had them before, but they called to me at the Hy-Vee. And now, here I am, scurvy-free and with a trash can full of peels. Living the good life.

I don't know how long we'll be seeing these in stores, but if you've been sheltered in terms of fruit consumption like me, I implore you to try them.

Last winter, I did some citrus decorating and now that I have several dozen clementines scattered around the house in various bowls, I'm thinking I could do something a little more unique with them.

You know what would be cool? A wire wreath with little circles, made just for holding tiny clementines. When full, it'd look like a wreath made of just fresh clementines - kind of like those wreaths made of ornaments. That way, you wouldn't have to poke them to get them to stick and they'd be easy to grab off for a snack.

For the second time this year, I'm thinking I need a welder.

Socktastic

Notice anything different about our beloved faux-tle (again, a faux mantle - why isn't this catching on?)?

Before and After - what's new, aside from much better lighting?

Hell yeah I made that fifth stocking! Is it awesome? Yes. Is it the perfect size for a bathtub-pooping cat? Of course. Was it insanely easy because I totally cheated and made two flat sides and then sewed them together? You bet your sweet little rump it was, sunshine.

I used this Lion Brand Yarn pattern (for the sock only and with thicker yarn that it asked for. I'm a little nervous of duplicate stitching right now and also was too cheapcoldlazy to go out and buy the yarn I would have needed to put the fancy cat outline on there. So when I say "followed" I mean "was inspired by.") and it only took a few hours. I made up the little Christmas trees myself (sans pattern, thankyouverymuch. To commemorate this madcap dash into rebelry, I might do something really crazy next. Like steep my tea an extra minute or even two. LOOK OUT DES MOINES.).

Now, I've got a few top secret knitting projects to finish up and maybe I'll even make some more little pet stockings so they all match (because. You Know. I'm kind of going batty over the lack of a cohesive family stocking brand on the faux-tle (fake mantle!). That extra minute of tea steep-age clearly wound me too tightly.

What's your big, triumphant Christmas craft? I know you have one.

Finally cold enough for this...

(Angels singing, heavens opening up, rays of soft light dancing on my shiny hair and fabulous vintage coat)

I've been waiting since the Fourth of July to don this puppy (not literally, though the fur is real - WHICH is okey-dokey with me since it's vintage (the cuddly little guy would have been long gone by now anyway and what am I gonna do - disrespect his life by throwing his hide away? Should I bury my coat? Or thank his little ghost for being such a trooper and apologize for any pain he was in and wear the hell outta my fine coat?) and my stylish Nana's and sohelpmejeebus, if someone throws red paint on me (is that still happening? Or did it go out with flannels and bowl cuts?) I'mma cut someone (not literally. With my words. Slice.)) and tonight I finally get to step out in it!

Don't you hate finding awesome winter stuff in summer? It's a long wait. (Let's not talk about the fur thing. I feel a little guilty, which isn't a good look for me. I furrow my brow when I'm guilty (now you know) and really don't want to have to find a vintage fur hat to cover up all those lines.)

Aaaaaaand scene.

Basement Boogie: Notsomuch

It's been a while since you and I have talked basement. What with all our trips to the coast (sigh) and business trips (businesstalk) and holiday trips (hiccup), November just kind of flew by us without much progress.

And in fact, December might, too.

The biggest hold-up is trying to figure out where to start - Hubs whipped up a snazzy flow chart showing what needs to happen in order for the next phase to happen, in order for the next phase to happen, etc. It's getting pret-ty nerdy up in here, folks. But it's totally justified - rebuilding is hard work. And confusing. And frankly, it makes me want to curl into a ball and eat seven pounds of M&Ms. Because that would clearly solve all our problems.

Add to that that we likely won't be able to replace the windows until February because of the window dude's timelines (which halts drywall work because why put up drywall if the windows are known to have some seepage issues - that would just put us back at square one, (you know, the square with the wet drywall? The square of tears and fears and woes and sobs?) which we wouldn't want, now would we?).

So, that's that. Just hang with us and trust me, eventually we'll be doing posts on stud-work, vapor barriers and the wonders of drywall hanging. Someday, we'll even be posting about putting up new baseboards, laying resilient flooring (which I daydream about regularly) and building a bar and beer cellar (oh. yes. We will have earned a beer cellar if we live to see the days of a nearly finished basement.).