Last weekend, an hour before we had guests arriving for my Daddy’s birthday dinner, our dishwasher flooded. This isn’t an occurrence that would shock anyone that laid eyes on our appliance. It’s been kicking butt and cleaning cutlery for 20 plus years. It was installed when the house was built… get the picture? The stinking dishwasher is old.
(though I must admit that the mint green interior has been mighty on-trend over the past few months!)
I hate the damn dishwasher. I’ve been pestering Blake since we moved in to let me get a new one. His take has always been that there’s no sense in replacing it if the stupid thing is still working. This has lead me to several plots and ploys to break it without necessarily outright “breaking it”. I may or may not have talked myself out of sticking rocks under the sprayer in the base of the dishwasher. What can I say? Desperate times call for desperate measures, folks.
What makes the story even more ironic is that Blake announced on Saturday morning that he finally agreed with me; it was time to replace the dishwasher. His thoughts were that we should get a little use out of any new one we install before we sell out home (not that it’s happening in the foreseeable future). He believed our Magic Chef had lived a good, long life and might best serve it’s next function as a donation.
And then low and behold the damn thing broke that afternoon. It’s almost as if the dishwasher heard Blake’s final ruling and proclaimed—
“FORGET THIS! I’M GIVING UP IF NO ONE BELIEVES IN ME ANYMORE!!!”
And thus- I give you our new, fancy, dual zone, stainless steel dishwasher to be delivered on Saturday. We are thrilled and delighted with our new arrival!
this has been a post about an appliance
what I’ve learned while being a homeowner
[alternatively titled the things I needed to know that I didn’t learn in kindergarten]
Sometimes you just have to jump off the scary high-dive and try things. Like the tiling I managed to master this weekend. Who would have thought I actually knew what to do with mortar and a trawl? But only a few hours later and something I will be proud of for years to come (see below). It’s kind of along the lines of tasting sushi for the first time; you aren’t sure exactly what you’re going to end up with.
If you complain about your dishwasher long enough, your husband will eventually cave and let you start browsing for a new one. Either he’s given in and finally agrees that a new, polished, stainless steel appliance would be a nice addition- or he’s sick and tired of hearing about my plots to break our current 80’s monstrosity.
When wandering the isles of Home Depot at 8 am on a Sunday morning, I will always look out of place. Always. Even in paint covered sweats and my hair slicked back into a pony. Something about me must scream rookie.
We need to invest in a wet saw. And a new insert for our crock-pot. #dammit.
Pottery Barn makes the worst [WORST!] Euro shams. Seriously- why wouldn’t you put ties or tabs on those things? They never stay shut. I give up on you, PB Euros.
And that’s about what our weekend consisted of. Laying tiles, installing beadboard, ironing new pillowcases, plenty of basketball watching, and a few celebratory cocktails last night to congratulate each other on a job [& weekend] well done.
And this morning, as I was walking out the front door, I dropped my iPhone on our brick stairs and cracked the screen. 6 years; I’ve gone 6 years with no iPhone incidents to date. And that all changed this morning. It’s almost as if my house was thumbing his nose at me [us] saying “there’s only so much you can DIY with me, friend!”. Just you wait, steps… I’m coming for you next!
[ps- clearly we aren’t finished with the backsplash — as evident in the lack of a wet saw and the gaping spaces where we need to make precise cuts to the subway tiles]
240 hours (and counting) living out of a suitcase
7 sleeps feeling like Goldy Locks
2 new pairs of shoes (whoops)
16 plus wardrobe changes
4 humans, 2 sheepdogs
10 bottles of wine
7 delicious meals
1 super squishy bed
and I still can’t find words to express how proud I am of Blake. I’ll let you just imagine the before…
but here is the after.
The living room portion at least [dining room/ foyer not pictured] & yes, baseboard repaint soon to come- I promise Momma.
Now my part- the cleaning- can begin!
High-fives and Risky Business-esque floor slides as we welcome our new hardwoods & ceiling to the mix.
One of my favorite re-purposed items from 2012 was this former K. Hall “Milk” candle that I turned into a makeup brush holder. It would have been a shame to waste a perfectly good glass container [and the subsequent half dozen I’ve scraped clean since last Spring] and I quite like the vintage-y look it gives my tray.
Here’s how I did it:
- Once you’re finished with the candle, stick the jar inside the freezer and let it sit for at least an hour.
- The cold temps will cause any leftover wax to shrink. When you take the jar out of the freezer, scrape any excess wax out with a [dull] knife.
- If there’s a label on the candle- you can remove. Or if you quite like the sticker left on the jar [as I did] leave it right where it is.
- Use a paper towel to wipe off any smudges, bits of wax, or soot that’s been left behind. If you have a hard time cleaning the jar, a dab of baby oil will clean everything off quite nicely.
- Rinse with soap and water then dry.
- Voila! You have a fancy, re-purposed glass container!
My inspiration for the H house master bedroom upgrade: new bed & linens edition // things to look forward to in 2013
((though this pouf might not suffice in our house at a night stand, I really do love the bedding))
ps- full referral link disclosure here // photo and all items via Nordstom
Have you ever had one of those weekends where you look back on Monday and think-
if I were judging this as a bystander, I would say that was a pretty lame couple of days?
we’re talking two (yes, two) trips to Trader Joe’s in one day on the hunt for my favorite [sold out!] apple crisps
a trip to Hancock Fabrics for printed inspiration
deep cleaning all of our first floor windows on Saturday afternoon [followed promptly by a torrential downpour on Saturday evening- typical]
fantasy football tracking that would seem excessive to even the untrained eye
take-out and ice cream couchside as we watched the return of a legend
See what I mean? Lame- party of three.
In retrospect, some of those weekends are necessary. No, we didn’t drink too much or stay up dancing downtown until 2 am (which we never do anyway). We may not have tried a new restaurant or explored a new music venue or cooked a new recipe we’ve been dying to taste…
but we did squeeze in a minor water battle with the hose while amidst our window washing endeavor, have a fight over a broken champagne glass [and my excessively loud and inappropriate sigh over said glass], and laugh at the idiocracy of it all.
So, yes, a lame weekend was had at the H house. And yet, I wouldn’t trade those two days for anything under the sun.
Happy Monday, gang.