If there's anything I learned from the media--or maybe I could be hilarious and call it the lamestream media--coming to my house, it's that my porch steps need to be painted. And I love the people who pointed it out to me, like I didn't notice that and the trashy fan on my deck. My attic won't open (long story) (who needs a handyman? Is it me?), so I can't store the fan in there and--oh, forget it.
Anyway, here's where I need your help. Can you send your husband over to fix my attic and paint my steps? No. No. Although that'd be great, actually.
What I need your help with is for you to tell me what color I should paint the stairs and door.
Here. Here's a whole picture of my house, and it would have been quicker for me to just go outside and take a photo but instead I googled my blog and then "+ yard" "+ ivy" "+ house" until I was ready to impale myself with a plus sign and also screech. I was ready to impale myself with Screech.
The point is, I finally found this photo of my whole house, and in this particular blog post, I'd left an Oprah magazine out thats cover read, "Oprah's battle with food is over!" Marvin looked at that and said, "Food won."
Sometimes Marvin kills me, in retrospect. He posthumously slays me. Does anyone else miss Marvin from time to time? Not like that. You know I'm all Team Ned at this point.
In fact, Ned and I were talking about how some people have a huge impact on your life, and they might not even be anyone you were close to or even liked. And here's where I desperately hope this person hasn't somehow found my blog, because you would not believe the people from my past who have found this. So far they have all been happy discoveries from people I enjoy, but if this poor sap is reading Ima feel terrible.
My point is, and I know I already said that two paragraphs ago and who rambles? Is it June? My POINT is, I worked with this woman in Seattle who I did not much care for. She was the most self-centered person you've ever met. At meetings we'd play the "I" drinking game. Every time she brought the conversation--the WORK conversation--back around to herself, we'd drink our coffee. We all had to pee like demons at the end of meetings.
You know how those demons are famous for just having pee fests.
However, we were all losing our jobs at that place because it was closing, and this woman was already scoring a new job because we actually had an economy back then, and she ended up getting me a job there too. Because of this, I met a bunch of people who are my friends to this day, and she also introduced me to a man I dated and lived with for over a year.
Meeting her lead to my marrying Marvin, which is a whole long story but trust me. (Okay, see, like I said I met a lot of friends at the job she got for me. One of those friends and I went to a strawberry festival. I know! Yayyy, seeds! At the festival was a psychic who naturally I stampeded to talk to. She said I had a curse on my love life and for $10 she'd lift it. I borrowed $10 from my friend and THAT NIGHT met Jonah, the film-student boyfriend I had who said, "I'd like to meet your old boyfriend who works on movies in Los Angeles." So I invited Marvin to visit me and boom we were married.)
If I hadn't married Marvin, I'd never have moved to Greensboro and never met Ned.
All because of that stupid woman who literally had a shrine to herself on her wall at home. She even had letters up there that spelled her name. Honest to God.
Which is my very brief way of saying some people impact your life and you never know who that's gonna be. Do you have anyone like that?
You'd all impact my life if you told me what color to paint my steps and door. Ned, of the met-him-due-to-a-strawberry-festival-in-1996 Neds, said he'd help. When you have All This, men help you paint your steps. I think the attic problem would flummox him, though. It seems like a major undertaking.
Ima go now so you can contemplate paint samples, but I managed to take pictures of my pets while I was headed out to photograph the steps.
I love Lily's little tippy toes.
why mom gots to bug lu.
Apparently someone needed discipline last night, seeing as the purple squirter is on the couch. Sadly I cannot even recall what transgression occurred.
I traded in Edsel for a paper towel roll. Seemed reasonable. Actually this is a harsh reminder of what it's like to have a puppy. You scream through a LOT of paper towels. There is much to clean.
This photo is a sad portrait of my life, actually. The brochure is from an art exhibit, which makes me seem super intellectual and you know how true that is. There's Ned's wine, back there. He likes red wine so I try to keep some on hand. Then of course there are pill pockets for dogs, which Ned likes to munch on. Behind those is a job candle. And on the window sill are two (2) kinds of dog meds. Pill pockets, wine and job candles. Now I'm sort of depressed.
Okay, I'm going now, to stick my head in the oven. Be sure to tell me about step colors. Or send paper towels. Whichev.
