This is where I work.

Because we now have a small camera (thank you very much, Ryan & Janet, for your Amazon gift card!), I can carry it around in my giant suitcase of a pocketbook all the time. This means that I can take pictures of whatever I want, and today I was inspired to take pictures of my work space. Yes, you'll see below the actual physical space that I call home for about 10 and a half hours each day of the week, minus weekends and 15 vacation days a year. The below is my actual cube. You'll see that I don't have the full walls of a traditional cube, but basically I am contained in three square walls with one opening where I can get in and out, so it is definitely cube-like. I have my two computer screens (my how much I enjoy having two of them), my little chair, my little quotes and inspirational sayings tacked onto my bulletin board wall. Ah, so homey.
Here is another view of the cube.
Here is a view of the rest of the library space. My back is to all of this as I'm sitting in my little cube space, which I don't really like. Three of my coworkers sit in the cubes on the left of the photo, and the computers in the back are public - one is a Bloomberg, the most antiquated, convoluted computer system in the world, though the amount of data and information that that thing provides is quite amazing.
This is what's to the left of me as I sit in my cubicle. The doorway leads into a small room that used to be my manager's office, but she's moved to an office right outside the library and a coworker and I are both moving into that room on Monday. We are hiring two new research librarians, one in October and one in November, so cube space is at a premium. I won't have an actual cube anymore, but I'll still be stuck in a corner. I'll have to post pictures of the new space once I move in. I'll be near a window, which is key to work happiness I think. I highly, highly undervalued direct access to natural light when I decided to work in the corporate world.
But isn't the space so drab? I mean, maybe these beige colors are very sophisticated, especially when coupled with the dark wood, but there is a complete lack of color in my life while at work. This would likely explain why I so desperately want to surround myself with rich, bold colors at home. And speaking of rich, bold colors, I have half a mind to paint the bedroom this Saturday. I was going to wait until the last weekend in October, but once I get an idea in my head I like to run with it right away. Get things over with. So maybe there will be more painting photos to post next week!

Mangy Moose.

We went to Maine this weekend, and it was very, very fun. Sure, there was a small hurricane (or at least a threat of one), which caused it to rain non-stop from Friday night through late Sunday afternoon, but we didn't let that stand in the way of a good time. Doug and I didn't get there until late Saturday afternoon (much later than planned, unfortunately - we got caught up in trying to do house stuff, and Doug also made a birthday pie!), and once we got the tour of the fantastic-looking house we all headed out for barbecue. I will let Cotton talk more about the food, since that's his blog forte, but I will simply say that it was definitely one of the better barbecue places I've been to. The biscuits were EXCELLENT. Worth the price of admission.

One of the things that I love the most about girl Chris is that she puts you right at ease. Of course, I don't know if I'm ever truly at ease since I'm borderline socially deficient, but if there's anyone who doesn't make me feel overly self-conscious it's her. And her house is so warm and inviting. I say her house, knowing full well that the decorating and arranging was a collaborative effort between her and boy Chris, but still, from the moment you walk into their home you feel girl Chris in every space. The color flows from room to room, the decorations and accessories all have a definite style and theme, and everything just makes you want to put down your bag, sit on the couch and stay a while. I find that our house in Dedham has not reached this point yet. Not that I don't love our house, because I do, A LOT, but I don't think that we've hit that decorating/accessorizing breakthrough that has happened in Maine. Case in point - our bedroom. Now, before we moved into the house here I had visions of having a very put-together bedroom. One with a definite scheme and theme. Doug wanted a neutral color on the wall so we tried off-white, but that just washes out the room too much because there's nothing else in the room that is overly colorful, and the color looks more buttery than white. And we have that tired cow blanket on the bed and the rug that was in the living room in the apartment that now looks polka-dotted because the cats puked on it so many times (cats as in Wyatt, the barfer), and even though we tried to liven the room by painting one accent wall an earthy green color it just is not working. So I am borrowing some inspiration for our bedroom from the Chris's guest bedroom - this blue flower picture. Maybe the camera didn't quite capture the exact hues, but the teal green of the frame and the yellow of the center of the flower (I am forgetting the technical term for this part of the flower - the stamen maybe?), just really appeal to me. So this artwork will be the inspiration for our new bedroom decor (and I hope and pray that girl Chris and boy Chris don't think me really off my rocker for taking a photo of their house and posting it on my blog!). I am planning to start painting after I get back from the Internet Librarian conference.

After an afternoon of retail therapy in Freeport (and Doug decided against buying this VERY HOT looking shoe shown here, which is supposed to be some kind of shoe that when you walk in it increases buttock activity by 9% and quadricep activity by 12% and also makes you entirely unappealing to the opposite sex, the same sex, or maybe even dogs and cats, who knows), we (we as in Doug) helped Chris and Chris set up their sound system. Their house is wired in each room for sound, which is way cool, but only if it works, and now it finally works. Wham! in the kitchen while making dinner, Wham! in the great room, Wham! in the bedroom, and best of all, Wham! in the bathroom. A whole house of Wham!. This is truly a great feat. CHRIS and Doug worked hard to make the system work, and now that it's all figured out girl Chris's great vinyl can be heard again. I think that finally everyone can appreciate the vision that the previous owner had when he rigged up that very complicated sound system. And I for one know that that Wham! record will make its way onto the turntable a few more times, because no one Wham! raps better than George Michael.

I need to find a new show!

This post won't have any pictures, any deep confessions - nothing juicy, so feel free to stop reading right now. All I really want to relay to my readers is my great distress at the fact that we have fully caught up on The Office and even watched the season premiere last night. We now have no more glorious red envelopes coming with DVDs of multiple Office episodes to look forward to every other day or so. I have to say, watching the show on network television was slightly less impressive. We had to fast-forward through the commercials, then rewind when we went a little too far, and the sound of the show was all wrong. Too soft, kind of muffled. And then I was really annoyed that the show has been weaving in doubt that Pam and Jim will actually get married. Seems Pam is going to get a great new life as a graphic artist, and Jim's destined to be at Dunder Mifflin for the long haul. Complaints, complaints! I'm really just complaining because now I have to find a new show to watch. I believe Personable has recommended Lost to us, so maybe we'll order that show from Netflix, but I was hoping for something a little more uplifting. The Office in general is a light-hearted show. Lost, I hear, is a little heavy. Any good comedies out there that anyone knows of? I am not up on my TV shows, obviously, and could use a few suggestions. We need to find new shows to watch as we meld with our couch each night after work!

Quilts make me happy.

Tonight I joined Curves. Didn't actually work out, because I guess joining and having your first workout are two different events now. At my first workout I'm followed around by the lone employee, to make sure that I'm using the machines correctly. This will happen on Saturday morning. Yay. (I am excited, though. It will be good to get back to being physically active on a regular basis again, though this doesn't mean that I'm giving up my little bouts of jogging.)

Tomorrow night I meet with a new therapist. Yes, Rosanne, me, sees a therapist. I have been seeing the same therapist for about 2, 2 1/2 years now, and I think we have just reached the point where we're too comfortable with each other. It's more like old friends getting together. She says, "This week, why don't you try to make a list of all the things you want to accomplish, prioritize them, and we can discuss how you can achieve those goals." I go home, think about it for a while, make a mental list but don't write it down, and when I see her the next week I forget what my mental list is and she forgets to ask for it and we talk about something completely different. I really like her, I still do like her, but I think that if I ever do want to do the things that I claim that I want to do I should see someone who might hold me accountable for my lack of action, or who might not want to be my friend as much as my therapist.

In other news, I have finally hung up my cousin Ann's small quilt in my office. It's hanging over the space where I want to put my sewing table, so it can act as inspiration. My sister and mother bought this quilt for me at Ann's funeral; it was coincidentally for sale at her church and they bought it while we were having the post-funeral gathering in the church basement. It's sad to look at because it reminds me of Ann, of how she passed away before being able to see her children grow into adults, before she could have grandchildren, before she could enjoy retirement with her husband, but it also is a happy quilt with bright colors and it makes me think of how much Ann enjoyed life. She always tried to get people together, tried to keep people united, and she was not judgmental. She passed away just about a year ago. I think of her very often, and I'm sure everyone else does, too, who knew her. Yes, this past year was a year for death, it seems, but what I've learned from all of this is that life is indeed short and unpredictable, so it's important to get the most out of it while you can. Hence the goal of regular exercise and working toward mental stability and personal satisfaction. See? It all ties together.

Now on to watch Dr. Zhivago.

Oh, how we love Garbage!

Doug and I have been watching a lot of The Office this summer. As a matter of fact, we have been watching all of The Office this summer. I think it was late last year, maybe last fall, that we watched the whole two seasons of the British Office, and we really, really liked it. We liked it so much that we weren't sure how we would react to the American version, which we had never, ever seen. We knew that it was a big hit show for NBC, but we just don't usually watch network television, unless, for some odd reason, we're watching American Idol, which we get sucked into each season. Anyway, this summer we decided to start watching it, so we started with season one. The first few episodes were tough and we thought we had been right - the British version was better. But once those first few episodes were over, which were so derivative, we were hooked. The characters took on their own look and feel, and we began to think of it as its own, unique vehicle. Currently we are on the second CD of season four, which means we may even be able to be all caught up by the time the new season starts this Thursday. It will be difficult for me, though, to watch just one show at a time. I tend to put in a DVD of The Office before bed and watch at least three, maybe four episodes at a time. For some reason I feel like the Dunder Mifflin team is real, is part of my life, and I get very involved in the story. I look forward to getting a new DVD on Netflix; lately it's like I've been living for The Office. Yes, I know, that's pretty sad, isn't it.

But I can't help but like this show, and I have to say that one of my favorite scenes of all seasons so far has to be the one that just happened on episode two, maybe episode three, of season four - when Angela's cat, Sprinkles, is sick and Dwight destroys (his own words) her. To try to make up with Angela, Dwight brings in Garbage, the feral barn cat, who is a useful cat - he's killed an entire family of raccoons. I don't know why but this scene was just way too funny for me, and for Doug, too, so now we make many, many references to Garbage. Tomorrow night is garbage night here in Dedham, so I'm sure the jokes will be flying. Oh, the fun we have!

Anyway, this weekend Doug and I discovered a new part of our neighborhood. We ventured not too far from our house into West Roxbury (we're in East Dedham, which is on the border of West Roxbury) to get a homemade donut from Anna's Donuts. They were very, very good. Not too sweet, not too big, not too fried but they had a slight crunchy crust to them, which I find Dunkin' Donuts lacks. We decided to go on this quest for homemade donuts after I spent some time on Friday researching the ingredients for a "regular donut" for someone at work. This was a request that I could really get excited about, and so I scoured the Internet and news articles for donut recipes. Commercial/industrial bakeries don't like to give away their recipes, for obvious reasons, so I couldn't find the proportions of ingredients for your average donut, but many do post their lists of ingredients online. Believe me, you don't want to know what goes into the average commercially-baked donut (but if you click here you can find out what goes into a Dunkin' Donuts glazed donut and probably never eat one again). Despite this, I developed a great desire for a donut on Friday, which stayed with me until Saturday morning when Doug and I decided to track down a local donut. This search led us to Anna's in West Roxbury, and I know that we'll be back. You'll see on the right here two examples of Anna's treats. And what makes these treats extra special is that they don't have any trans-fats now, since the city of Boston has banned their use. Yay! I won't call these little guys healthy, but at least I know that they could be worse for me. We got a half-dozen, and they're all gone! Good thing I have an appointment to join Curves on Tuesday... Doug will have to roll me there!

Could dental hygiene be in my future?

I saw on Yahoo! today an article that discussed dental hygienists making big bucks and being in high demand. On average, dental hygienists make $60K, but good ones can make $90K-$100K. All that on a two-year associates degree! I immediately asked myself if the path of the intellectual was worth it - to borrow an average dental hygienists' yearly salary in order to get a two-year master's degree to be a librarian, or in some circles, information specialist. Well, let's see. As a librarian/researcher, I don't have to look into people's mouths. I don't have to scrape their gum walls with a pick to remove unwanted plaque. I don't have to floss other people's teeth, poke metal instruments into cavities, rinse mouths out when gums bleed, or look at canker sores or other festering mouth wounds. I don't have to take orders from a dentist, who yes has had more schooling than me and gets paid quite a bit more but who doesn't do nearly as much of the work, and I don't have to worry about people spitting on me, or vomiting near me after a bad reaction to novocaine, or breathing their contagions on me. But, I would get to wear scrubs, which would mean I would have to pay less on my wardrobe and would end the tiring daily stare into my closet wondering which pair of black pants to wear today, and I would get to interact with people more, which is something I want to do. Truly. My schedule might be a little more consistent, and my working environment might be a little more manageable (How many urgent email does a hygienist get in a day? How many are glued to their Blackberry during vacation?). I would probably feel like I was giving back more to the community, and making more of an impact on the general public; oral health is very important, after all. And for someone who once dreamed of being a dentist (I always wanted to tell people, like everyone's favorite Rudolph character Hermey, "Well, sir, I'd like to be a dentist!"), being a dental hygienist may not be too far off the mark.

I'd also like to post a couple of pictures. The first here is of our newly organized kitchen. Well, newly as of a couple of weekends ago. Doug and I thought long and hard about how we could make the best use out of our (very) small space, and we decided that hanging stuff would be the best option. We have now gotten rid of one whole container for utensils and have, as you can see, hung them under the cabinets but above the island. This, along with hanging up the Dustbuster near an electrical socket and holding our oils/sprays in a container on the side of the island, were excellent ideas suggested by Cotton Mather, my husband, who now cares as much about good organization and efficient use of space as Martha Stewart, and I'm all for that.

This other photo that I'm posting is of a newly painted spice rack that I either bought from girl chris or that she gave to me after it wasn't sold in one of our tag sales. I painted it navy blue and we have hung it in our entry way at the back door. It holds all of our little trinkets that we had displayed on the kitchen window sills in the apartment. We didn't want to box them up and put them away, and we didn't want to clutter the window sills again. We also couldn't find any buyers for the spice rack on craigslist, so rather than just throw it out I decided to repurpose it, and I think it looks great. Thanks, Chris! Your spice rack enjoys its new home.

Company outings. And cookies.

I just came back from my company outing. I have decided that there is one thing in which I am and probably always will be deficient... small talk. I can't do it. I just can't. I mean, what do I have to talk about with people I don't know? The weather comes to mind. Work, too. But once you move past the (really lame), "Wow, it's getting chilly, isn't it?", and the "Yeah, work has been really busy lately. New analysts, lots of new projects," what do you say? I can't even do small talk with my immediate coworkers, my fellow librarians, the people with whom I work day in day out. Is small talk something that you get better at with age? Or is small talk something that needs to be learned, practiced? Or, even worse, is it something that is genetic, and did I not get that gene? I know I over-think things. I know that I am very much aware that I am not good at small talk so in those situations when I should be using small talk I am too hung up on the fact that I'm not good at it, that I'm not doing a good job, that I'm sounding stupid, that I'm deficient, that I should just go crawl back under my rock and maybe someday will get the courage to come back out. I think that I just think that I am the most boring, uninteresting person in the world, that I don't ever do anything but work, that I have few hobbies anymore and only see my friends once a month or once every other month, if that, so it's not like I even have those, "so, the other night my friend and I went to the bar/movies/store..." stories that everyone seems to share, so what in the world could I possibly have to talk about? My mind doesn't turn off long enough to make small talk, or to be interesting. At these times I seem to be a prisoner of thinking.

Anyway, there's a company outing every other year where I work, and this is my second outing. Both were at golf courses, and both were set up in the same way - you could golf, or you could play softball, soccer, human checkers, get your caricature done, have your palm read, or play carnival games like bean bag toss, basketball throw, smash the big hammer thing, etc. The problem with this outing is that no one seems to go. A firm of about 600 people globally gets about 100 people total to come to the event. I wish we would do something fun, like have a company-wide outing to the movies or something. Or a company-wide talent show, so you could get to see what these people do besides work. I'd even take a ropes course, or some kind of lame team building exercise. The whole sports/carnival thing isn't for me, and it doesn't seem to be for anyone else. Cocktails and dinner are better attended, but still, this seems to be an event more for shared resources than for the whole company, so it seems like a waste of time. I do have to remind myself, though, that if I weren't at the outing I'd be at work, and that after one of these company events I always have another jacket or sweatshirt to add to my wardrobe. This year it's some kind of water and wind-proof fleece-lined jacket (with the company name embroidered on the arm, of course).

I don't know, even after a couple of glasses of wine and a whole bunch of cookies post-outing, I still can't get the dissatisfied taste out of my mouth. Blech! And now I just feel sick.

Rhode Island is a funny little place.

So our trip to Slater Mill was very... interesting. It was strange to think that a little 9-year old boy was haunting the two mills there. It's sort-of a creepy old place - it smells, is dark and dank, and probably wouldn't be the most fun place to be as a child with all that dirty, heavy industrial equipment. I kept saying, "Hello, little boy," as I walked through the place, but the more I was there the less I was thinking about the ghost. I was thinking more of how weird the tour guides were, and how difficult it must be to be a not-for-profit historical museum.

We arrived and were greeted by a young girl, maybe 24, who was dressed in colonial attire, complete with white bonnet, who was manning the register. She introduced herself as "Mistress Jen." She took our mill money, which gave us $1 off each from admission (she taped our mill dollar to a piece of paper in a 3-ring binder. This is how they track mill money usage), and told us about three times that the tour was a circular tour, so if you hopped on in the middle of it you could just follow through to the end and then continue through the beginning of another tour, not missing anything. From Mistress Jen it was more like, "... beginnin' of another tour, not missin' anythin'." I wondered if she realized she was dropping the "g"s from her words. We joined the tour with Mistress Vicki, who was this very animated young woman (though older than Mistress Jen) who would every so often toss into her narrative of the mill some kind of morbid fact and then happily move on to another topic. Example: We were standing around some kind of carding machine in the Slater Mill that had hundreds of little spikes coming out of this cylindrical wheel, and the person working the machine (probably a kid of 9 or 10) would periodically have to pull seeds from the cotton being carded on this machine. To do so would mean that the person would have to stick his/her hands into the machine and hope that s/he didn't get stabbed by the spikes, or get a sleeve caught in the machine, otherwise s/he would bleed all over the cotton. Mr. Slater only spun white cotton, you see, so if the person were to bleed all over the cotton s/he would have to somehow clean the cotton and the machine in order to not be docked wages or lose his/her job. Of course, there was always the possibility that the person could die by getting caught in the machine, in which case he/she wouldn't be able to clean the blood. (Big smile and skip of step) "So, movin' on to this machine over here, you'll notice..." I can't accurately describe her mannerisms. They were too unique. But I can say that Mistress Vicki also dropped all of her "g"s, so I've decided that it must be a Rhode Island thing. I bet there are many Rhode Island things, things that would really irritate me if I were ever to move to Rhode Island.

The mills themselves were pretty cool. The place was less of a museum (a look and read kind of place) and more like an interactive workshop. Mistress Vicki showed us how each and every machine worked, and we all got a chance to touch, smell, and use things along the way. One of the mills (Wilkinson Mill) had two purposes - bobbin making and machine repair maybe? I'm forgetting - and the other mill, the Slater Mill, was strictly run to make cotton thread. It's strange to think of how these factories at that time were "modern." They seem very archaic and I can't imagine how anything was mass-produced there. But, I guess mass production meant something totally different in 1810.

All in all, the trip was worth it. We got some good video, which Doug will be posting to The Semantic Mather, and we got some good photos. I thought Mistress Vicki was an excellent tour guide, if only slightly distracting. It's worth the $9 admission ($8 for adults with mill money), even if we didn't get any EVPs or orbs or anything paranormal.

Fun is... jogging?

I jogged today! A whole twenty minutes of continuous jogging. I realize that before, when I was reluctant to run, I never got over that initial out-of-breath-I-think-I'm-going-to-die feeling that I get when I first set out on a jog. It happens about a minute into it, when my body and lungs seize and I feel like I am going to need someone to give me oxygen. That feeling does pass, though... I just need to brew through and get to the next level. Then I can run fine, and I do. Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it running. I used to run on the treadmill way back in the winter, but now all I can do is a leisurely jog. But whatever! I'm out there, it feels good, and if I keep it up I may even get back into running. My goal would be to do the Manchester Road Race. I think it's too late for me to run it this year, but there's always next year. Maybe Dedham has a road race. I'll have to investigate.

In other news, I am SUPER excited to go to Slater Mill this Saturday. I dreamed up this trip this morning as I was thinking of ways to get me through the rest of the week - this trip is my dangling carrot. Last night on Ghost Hunters the crew was investigating at Slater Mill. They got some interesting results on the K2 meter, and also some creepy EVPs. Doug and I are looking to investigate the mill ourselves (i.e. take some photos and look for orbs or something minimal like that), and I am very excited to get out and see an historical site. Hopefully the thunderstorms will keep away... although maybe that would make the trip more ghostly!

Also on Saturday I get my haircut. I'm trying out a place in Norwood. Why not just go to the place I usually go? It's not like I moved far from Newton. Well, it's because the last couple of haircuts my hairdresser in Brookline gave me didn't turn out so good, so I started to go down to the lady at Shampoo One in East Hartford (yes, Connecticut) whenever I happened to be down that way, which was often. I'm not really often down that way anymore, so I figured I should just try to get someone local. Let's see how this goes. I'm always tempted to just grow out my hair, have it be long again (it hasn't been long in years), but I get tired of waiting for it to grow and want a change, so I just cut it off. We'll see how the mood strikes me on Saturday. Oooh, but here's a good question... If I had to have celebrity hair, which celebrity hair should I have? What would be a good cut for me? This is something I'd be interested in hearing about...

Am I really that lazy?

So I haven't really exercised on a regular basis since my wedding in February. After that day, my stomach started to get really bad and I was on that stomach medication, I fell into a very dark, depressed period where I was seriously wondering whether I would be committed to the McLean Hospital in Belmont, and had some major mental crises with work. And now there's the house, which I'm using as an excuse, but that really isn't an excuse on some days. Take today, for example. I wanted to come home and jog for about 20 minutes (that's all, just 20 minutes!), but I came home famished at 7pm and cannot run after just eating. So I had a snack, changed my clothes, made the bed, put laundry away, put a new load of laundry in the washer, cleaned the cat boxes, and now here I am at 7:41pm, blogging instead of jogging. I've now lost my momentum for jogging. Will I ever join the Curves that is right down the street from me, literally? It would be stupid not to. I am so close, and I had such a good experience at Curves (until I got bored and decided to join a traditional gym). I don't have time for a traditional gym now during the week, though - there isn't one close enough to my house to make it worth while. Who wants to get to the gym at 8pm, get home at 9-9:30pm, start dinner, and eat around 10-10:30pm? That's not my idea of a good or healthy evening. I just have to really make myself either jog or join Curves. This weekend I can jog. Curves is on my hit list next week, when hopefully I can leave work a little earlier one night.

In other news, at the grocery store this weekend I saw the reissued Hydrox cookies. I have been reading about them in the food news alerts that I get at work. Apparently the public has been begging for Hydrox to make a comeback (they have a following like Moxie), so Keebler, which now owns the brand but discontinued the manufacture of Hydrox in 2003, reissued the cookie for its 100th anniversary. We bought a package, and I do agree that they are better than Oreos. They are the same design - chocolate sandwich cookies with a white creme filling - but are not as sweet and do not leave a film on your tongue after eating (am I the only one with this problem when I eat Oreos?). I hope that Hydrox stick around, because I certainly would add them to my grocery cart every once in a while.

Hmmm, I just realized that I lamented my lack of exercise routine in the same post that I discussed buying and eating cookies. Until I get better with the exercise, maybe I should leave the Hydrox reissues at Star...

Brimfield, as promised

I believe I promised a post and some photos re: Brimfield, so rather than disappoint my legions of fans, here I am. The day was rather successful. Doug indeed found a new dresser, and we both really like it. We didn't find a whole lot of options, but there are so many fields of antiques and wares that it is impossible to comb the whole place in only a few hours. Doug also found a new gnome to add to the growing collection, and we picked up something for our favorite friends in Maine that we'll bring to them next time we see them as a housewarming gift. This is the 3rd month they've been in their house, so I think it's about time we presented them something by way of congratulations.

Brimfield was hot, very hot. The fields are just wide open fields where antique dealers set up tables and tents to display their goods. At Brimfield you can expect to find: little shade, few bathrooms, bad food, lots of traffic, people who look like they've never seen the light of day. And then, of course, there are all of the antiques. My mother was commenting that there was much glassware this time, and it was true - every tent had some kind of glassware. Pink glassware, green glassware, clear glassware, blue glassware, those free glasses you used to get at McDonald's and Burger King back in the '80s... I guess people are big into glassware. I was hoping to find a complete set of butterprint Pyrex to go along with the bowl I already have, but in the end I just couldn't spend $90 for a set of bowls that I don't really need and will probably break at some point. My heart's still holding out for a set of vintage Pyrex bowls, though, but the bowls are on hold because there are just too many other things for which my wallet has to open at this point. Doug had a harder time saying no to a decoy, but he did in the end. There were so many of them - cheap ones, expensive ones ($1100 for a wooden duck?) - but none that came home with us. We've come to the conclusion that if we are going to be serious about collecting something, be it Pyrex, gnomes, or decoys, we should probably have some kind of knowledge of what's a good one and what's not a good one so that when we go to bargain with the dealer we'll know what a good price is for the item at hand. Doug, therefore, is going to read up on wooden ducks.

So, on to the photos. Here we have a photo of my mother and me eating at Molly's Catering. I don't know where Molly is from, but she can keep her catering business there. The food I think tried hard to be something good but fell quite short, as you'll see from Doug's pureed cole slaw below.



You can find some interesting stuff at Brimfield, like this ventriloquist's dummy. "Hello, take me home to entertain people at parties!", this dapper fellow is saying. My mother is tempted, but ultimately declines.

I do believe our home would have been complete with a painting of Scarlett O'Hara, but frankly my dear, we decided to leave her for a true fan.

We managed to get our newest gnome home safely and soundly (we ran over another nail, apparently somewhere on our way home from Brimfield, and had to have roadside assistance come out to the house to help us with the tire late last night. Again.), and we call this one Sleeping Gnome. We're a clever bunch here in Dedham!

And, finally, the true reason for heading out to Brimfield... Doug's new dresser. No more IKEA for him! He's moved up. This is an oak dresser, apparently from the 1880s. Because the two ladies who brought the dresser to Brimfield didn't want to have to take it home again, we were able to get a good price for it. The stuff on top of it is supposed to be inside the dresser, but inside, outside - what does it matter as long as Doug's clothes now have an attractive, functional home?

Housewarming!

We've invited family to our house for a housewarming on Saturday, October 11th. Not really sure what we're getting ourselves into... we've never hosted a family party before. I'm a bit worried that not a lot of people will come; it's Columbus Day weekend, and also the weekend after Jesse and Cara's wedding, so people may a) already have plans, or b) not want to spend another weekend day away from home. But we'd love to have anyone who wants to come and see our new pad. Plus, this motivates us to get the little things done that we are always meaning to get done, like hang the pictures, get the basement set up, get the office organized, and finally (finally!) finish unpacking/organizing the kitchen. I leave organizing and arranging the guest room off of this list because at this point, without a guest bed, we don't see the point in having that room set up. It will still be a catch-all spot until we can't use it for that purpose anymore.

Since in the invite I included a link to our blogs, enticing visitors with some photos of the house, I'll provide some here. First up, here's a photo of the living room pre-painting. We have a fireplace, which scares me to death because I am afraid I'll burn the house down if I try to use it. So for now, it's decorative.


This is the dining room pre-painting. It was a pale green, but the green was very bright at the same time. There was also faux-finishing to it, and that had to go.


Here's our bedroom post-painting, though pre-accent wall. This is the only room on the second floor of the house, which is why our house is considered one an a half stories, I guess?

My mother was such an incredible help the week that we painted the house. Here she is in the living room, covering the yellow with a shade of gray, which lets the color of the natural woodwork be the focal point of the room.

This is the dining room in progress - and yes, we've painted it purple. Two shades, no less!

We call this room the cat room, although the cats are usually not in it. The windows are perfect for them - low and large and they overlook the side of the yard where lots of squirrels like to run along the fence.

I'm painting the office a deep raspberry color; darker than the color in our music room in the apartment but lighter than a red. This is the only room besides our bedroom with white trim.

This photo was taken I think on the 5th day of painting, either the last or the second to last day of painting, and my mother is still in good spirits. She's amazing, and without her the work would not have gotten done.

The moving crew post-move. You all were fantastic! It took no time at all, and we almost beat the rain.

Sasha has found her favorite place in the house - the basket of dish towels in the sun-filled kitchen window. We have since moved the basket, since we were effectively wiping our dishes with cat hair.

One last photo - Doug with his cutter mattock. We have entered yard tool territory. We used this weapon to dig up an unruly stump. The stump is done. Doug, thankfully, was not hurt in the process.

These photos are great, I know, and there are so many more like them, but wouldn't you rather see the house in person? Come on up! We're not that far a drive, really.

Portsmouth

On Monday, Doug and I made a quick trip to Portsmouth, NH, to celebrate the stump being out of the ground and out of our life forever (except we left the stump in its proper brown paper yard waste bag for the garbage collector and he didn't collect it. So I guess it's not really gone after all...). Quick trip I say because we left at noon and were back at 6:30. We walked around the very center of town, ate lunch, Doug bought some pink flamingos for the yard, and I bought a pair of shoes. That was the extent of our trip. But it was fun! We saw the John Paul Jones house. I remember as a kid learning about this guy and always wondering why he had the same name as the guy in Led Zepplin. It always takes me a minute, too, to think of who John Paul Jones really is.

Anyway, here are some photos of our trip. We'll have more fun photos to share this weekend, too, as Doug and I head to Brimfield on Friday. Doug's seeking a dresser and I'm seeking... nothing, nothing but a good time.

Doug covets this pair of slippers. I smell birthday present in his future....

Doug eats his burrito at The Friendly Toast. Thanks, Mike(Michael) for introducing us to this place. The food is good and the ambiance is cool.

This is part of me at The Friendly Toast. All of me was there, but only part of me made it into the picture. I think this is supposed to be... artistic.

This is little Dedham Square. Isn't it cute? There's a little more to it, but not much, really. But it's now home so we're fond of it.

Death - lots of it.

Tonight is the last night (for a while at least) that I'll post on A Mon Avis. I've killed it, or at least have put it in a coma. For reasons why, read them there.

My co-worker's husband died this weekend. Passed away while she was unpacking her daughter at college, her daughter's first day of her first year of college. It was not sudden - he had had melanoma for a couple of years - but it was sooner than expected. Only since May did his disease really become debilitating, and ever since July it has just been getting worse and worse. It got so he couldn't even get up from the bed, lift his head to drink, or pick up the phone. He apparently never really believed he was dying. He kept telling his wife that he had another 5 months to live. Something tells me that he had to have known, that he did know, but he just didn't want to tell her he knew. Maybe he felt he was protecting her. At the end of August the doctors gave him about a month to live (doctors told my co-worker but not him, as he said he didn't want to know), and he lasted a week and a half, maybe two. He died sooner than they expected, but he is no longer in pain and he is no longer a shell of himself. This can (and does) comfort them. Doug and I will go to the wake tomorrow night and no doubt I will cry more than they will. I don't really like death.

Whenever someone dies I think of my own life. First I think of what it would be like if I were dead, and then I realize that it's silly to think like that because I wouldn't know what it would be like if I were dead. I can't reasonably consider that I'll be a spirit looking down on my family and friends from the great above. It may be possible that I'll be one of these spirits one day, but it is easier for me to believe - for whatever reason - that when I'm dead I'm dead and neither my body nor my soul/spirit will live on. Once I realize this I then move on to thinking of what I would do if my mother died, my sister, my brother, or my father died. Or if Doug died. I don't know what I'd do if Doug died. My co-worker was laughing with me on the phone tonight, making jokes about work, etc., and I think that if Doug died all I'd be able to do is cry. Maybe during the day I'd keep it together, but at night, or on the weekend when I would be home alone in the house, I think I'd have a tough time keeping sane. Yes, Doug eats whole bags of Doritos at once without sharing, and yes, he chews gum so loudly and fast that I make him spit out his gum into my bare hand while we're standing in the kitchen aisle at The Container Store because if I have to hear him make those gum noises any more I will scream. Those things bother me and at times I wonder how I stand it. But when I start to think about death, about being alone, about not being able to complain about those little things anymore, about not being able to scratch his head or hold his hand or sleep next to him, then I start to realize that to be without him would be like being without myself, and I don't know if I could do it. I want him around, I need him around, and I hope I get many, many, many more years with him. I just don't like death.

Stump, fish... a busy weekend.

So, first let's talk about the stump. It's out! Thank God, the stump is out! This is a true Christmas miracle, and we have our helpful and handy neighbor to thank. I believe his name is Joe, so Joe, thank you, thank you, thank you! Doug and I would still be out there if it weren't for you.

I'll give a brief recap because I know that Doug will be blogging much more about this, most likely with a whole bevy of photos, too. Anyway, we got out there with the stump early, and quickly decided that the shovel, trowel, and keyhole saw weren't going to do the job. The stump had just too many deep, thick roots, and the soil was too rocky to get the shovel and trowel in deep. Doug called his father to see if there were any alternatives to chain saws (my father offered a saws-all, but we would have had to have waited until they came up again for that and we wanted this thing out). Joe recommended a grub axe, so off we went to Home Despot looking for a grub axe. We didn't see one, but we saw something in the axe department that seemed similar - a cutter mattock (which, to us, sounds much more like the name of a baseball player than a garden tool). So we put this cutter mattock into the cart (and as I'm driving the cart towards the register a friendly HD employee tells me, "You be careful with that thing," with no bit of irony to his 40-something year-old voice), along with a watering can and some batteries for photo documentation, went home and started axing. Here's Doug axing. We alternated trying to chop the stump to death, and realized that it would work, that we were making progress, but that the fence posed a problem (don't want to chop the fence up) and because of that we would be out there for years trying to work around the fence. Like manna from heaven, though, neighbor Joe happened to walk by with his little dog, Mason, and said, "So, what's going on here?" And the rest is history. He offered his help, got a pulley from his garage (he has a pulley in his garage!), wrapped it around one of our many tress, and after much sweat and a little bit of grunting, the stump was gone! Out! Yanked out of its hole. We didn't take any photos of the actual removal of the stump because we didn't know if Joe wanted to be photographed, but here's Doug holding the evil stump after it came out: Once the stump was gone Doug worked on filling in the empty stump hole while I mowed the (brown and dry) lawn with our reel mower. I rather like this mower, but I do think it will only work well when the grass is basically dead.

So that's the stump story. Another story from this weekend - the new additions to our Dedham family. No, sorry to disappoint, they're not cats (though in a moment of weakness on Friday night we were tempted by this fluffy gray and white kitty at Kitty City). We got 5 new fish on Saturday, three cory cats and two fancy fan-tailed gold fish. The cory cats are a little hard to photograph, as all they do is hide in the fish toys, but here's Stanley and the Cheeseman: Stanley's on the right and the Cheeseman's on the left. They are adjusting nicely to their new home, and Big Red could care less that they're there. This is better than fighting, though, or hissing or scratching, and so I think we made a good decision by getting some more fish and not another cat. One more photo of the new aquatic family for the road: