The Life of the Kazmanns

This Week in Knitting…

I said I was going to start off a post like that each week so I couldn’t resist actually throwing the line out there.  First of all I think I need to clear up a few misconceptions about this “new hobby” of mine that I mentioned a couple of posts ago.  Yes, I am aware that typically my generation isn’t found in a yarn shop knitting up a storm.  No, Baby Kaz is not the reason for this development as if to make myself look  or seem more “motherly”. (I mean come on, I’m as motherly as it gets right? )  Yes, I even laugh at myself as I sit knitting away on occasion.  No, my husband does not think it is necessarily normal.  No, my brother does not think it is normal.  No, my friends don’t even think it is normal.  However, I guarantee that once they see my creations they will all be jealous and wanting me to make something for their families.  Okay, maybe just my friends…not so much my husband and brother.  I am so glad we could clear that up!

There is something about this knitting haven that reminds me a little of the “Joy Luck Club” and a bunch of older Asian women sitting around playing Mah Jong and swapping life stories.  Except they are all white, not Asian and there definitely isn’t Mah Jong, just yards and yards and yards of yarn.  Still, same concept so to speak.  There is one larger round table in particular where they like to gather whether they are waiting for a more experienced employee to assist them, looking at a new project or there to just work in peace and this is the best place to eavesdrop in on “cat talk”.

Cat lady #1: “Georgie, do you want to do this in white or black yarn?”
Cat lady #2:“Ohhhhh white.  Definitely white. You know I don’t like anything black and will never use black.  White is better.”

Maaaaayyyyybeeee I read to much into their little conversation, but when you get an elderly lady in Texas speaking about black vs. white I couldn’t help but chuckle.  The shocked tone in her voice when asked if she would consider black yarn was almost enough to make you think she had been asked to give up her seat on the bus.  Hilarious.  Racism in yarn.  Have we not moved past that yet?  Not even a little?  Her poor knitting needles will never know how wonderful a black project could look.

Now, I can say that many people do “travel” to this store, some from greater distances than others, but especially those who live in small Texas towns.  It tends to be a stop on the hit list of places to stop by for others who have moved away or who have friends that live here and talk about it.  Recently our toll roads went all electronic, so there are no more people freezing in booths waiting to see if you drop in your change or not if you do not already have a Toll-Tag. (I did think it was strange that they did away with this in the middle of the job-crisis.)  This poor woman was really shaken up by her “LONG” drive in.

A Very Patient Employee: “Sugar, can I help you with something?”
Small Town Driver : “I’m just overwhelmed after my trip here, I thought I would never make it!”
A Very Patient Employee:  “Oh really? I’m sorry, Well we are so glad you came, where did you have to travel in from?”
Small Town Driver :  “Denton!!! (she says it as if it was Montana and it is about 30 min from the store)
A Very Patient Employee:“Oh, Denton.  Well, I am still glad you came.  How did you drive in? (Mistake #1 on her part, she should have stopped before that.)
Small Town Driver:“I went on those toll-roads.  But I tell you what, there was no one there to take my money!  I could see the booths there but they were all blocked off like they wanted me to just keep driving.” (They do….the signs tell you so.)
A Very Patient Employee: “Right.  It is okay, they don’t have those booths anymore.  They will just bill you for it but it isn’t anymore expensive.”
Small Town Driver : “Well I kept trying to go through the cones to get over to the booths but then no one was there.  Everyone kept honking at me. (Poor thing just wanted some yarn.)  Wait did you say BILL Me? But how will they find me?”
A Very Patient Employee: Oh, yes, you definitely don’t want to try and go through the cones sweetheart, you just keep driving and they will mail you a bill based on your license plates.
Small Town Driver : “I knew they were tracking me! I’ve got to find a different way home so they can’t watch me!”

Yes, the employee did start every sentence with “Oh” as if to give her sweet brain time to think and not laugh.  Yes, that poor woman didn’t have much experience on the “big, city roads” which makes her all the more dangerous.  Yes, the employee continued to try to help her by offering her different solutions.  No, the woman could not go home any other suggested way besides the toll road after all.  God Bless everyone who was driving around her, but at least she got her yarn right? (The employee did try to save us all by convincing her to order her yarn online or to call them and order it so they could mail it to her.  However, oddly enough, this wasn’t going to do because Small Town Driver wasn’t very good with “the technologies” and wasn’t going to be able to do either of those.)

I can’t give away everything from my knitting days but my teacher was just as hard on my fellow classmates this week but since it was all expected now that we knew what we were in for everyone laughed it off.  I continued to keep my head down and work along with a younger black woman (I only mention this because of Cat Lady #2)Three students did not show up this week…they just couldn’t take it I suppose.  I on the other hand am not messing around.  I am almost finished with Baby Kaz’s blanket and have even moved on to another task as well.  You roll your eyes when you think of me sitting in a straight-back chair in front of a crackling fire with a blanket draped over my legs as my fingers knit away into the wee hours of the morning I know it.  Let me tell you what…when your son is kicking you in the ribs, and you are being prepared for no sleep when you are supposed to be “getting all of the rest you can” due to insomnia, you would want something non-electronic to do as well.  Judge not, or you will never receive a hand-made knitted something from me and I know you would be devastated.  Until next week, pray for some crazy old knitting ladies!

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A bit of background for you before Baby Kaz makes his arrival in 5-6 weeks!!!  Based on the way I and many other people were raised, I think that you believe as soon as you start trying to have kids you will.  Well, that wasn’t necessarily the case for us and was something I chose to keep to myself because who really needs the pressure of everyone else’s thoughts and wishes as well right?  Well, last June I finally spilled…twice.  First, there was my sister in law, and we happened to be stroller skating with my niece.  I know, you thought no one actually did that but it is true and my legs were sore enough to prove it.  A couple of days later,  one of my dearest friends who has been in my life for a decade now, happened to be in town and while driving around she brought up their plans as well.  For the first time I was relieved to have this “girl talk” so to speak.  We vented, laughed, and then were able to move right on and I for one felt much lighter.  Guess who found out that Baby Kaz was on his way two weeks later?

I couldn’t believe the timing and thought that if I had known all I needed to do was talk about it with a best friend that I would have done that months ago! Haha.  Colter and I were waiting until school was starting to begin telling people our big news and I was already thinking about how I was going to tell someone who I knew was feeling the same frustrations.  While you are always happy for those around you I was hoping that happiness would overcome any bittersweet feelings for her.  Little did I know that she was going through the exact same thing.  At the end of August, while setting up my classroom, I received a phone call from Christine that went a little like this…(after the usually beginning babble of course)

C: I really wanted to share our big news with you before we told everyone.
Me: Oh really? (Already having a feeling of what it was because of our conversation in June.)
C: We’re pregnant! We have been waiting to tell everyone and are getting ready to make it public.

At this point I knew that our timing had to be pretty close since most people who are waiting to make it public wait about the same amount of time (12-14 weeks) and we were getting ready to share the same news.  Did I come right out and say it to her you ask?  Of course not, I had to string her along some…

Me: Ah, that is so wonderful! Congratulations! So how many weeks are you? (She proceeds to say she is in the same week I am…to which I laugh….and I am sure she was wondering why that was funny.)
Me: So when is your actual due date?
C:March 9th
Me: Oh wow, what a great time of year! I don’t know how quickly I will be able to come and see you though, that is going to be a really busy time for me. (Bad friend right?)
C: Oh really, why?
Me: Well, because my due date is March 12th!
C: WHAT???!!!!! WHAT????!!!! No way!!!

Let the commiserating begin!  It was so wonderful to know that there was someone right there going through the same thing even with all of the differences individual pregnancies bring.  I was also happy for our husbands who could vent about their hormonal wives if they needed to. We keep talking about how who knows if we will ever have timing like this again, and chances are we will not.  That is the real reason I decided to share this with you.  Above is a picture of us during a college visit and then a summer trip two summers ago.  Notice the svelte figures, the tanned skin and the lack of swelling.  Next is us last weekend…okay not us, just our bellies.  We realized that after her visit from Oklahoma last weekend, the next time we see each other we will truly have families since neither of us are allowed to travel anymore.  So far we can both say that two is better than one, a baby boy and a baby girl (if all things go accordingly to our sonos) and thank goodness that our “two is better than one” scenario is a shared time between dear friends and not twins!  Christine’s husband has already promised to give our son a chance and only put blanks in his shotgun when he goes to visit their baby girl.  So generous and trusting don’t you think?

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(Disclaimer - We have been having some Internet issues at the house, hence the lack of new entries for the past month. I know you have been having withdrawals, and I apologize.)

Okay, for those of you who are not aware I am officially a “stay at home mom-to-be” right now.  Yes, I have taken a break from the runny-nosed, germ buckets that filled my classroom to prepare for Baby Kaz’s arrival and to better address my own health needs.  The only thing is, this “stay at home mom-to-be” sure doesn’t get to spend much time at home resting still!  In an effort to brush up my domestic side in these last weeks leading up to “the big day” (Remember when that phrase was assigned to a wedding? Boy how time flies!) I have taken to some things that I am sure you will find absolutely hilarious.

The first is prenatal yoga.  While it isn’t so much the concept that I think is so funny it is more the mental picture of a group of pregnant women doing yoga poses.  That and I’m not really the best personality type for yoga normally, but I think this is quite good and relaxing.  So go ahead and get yourself a good picture in your head of unbalanced women who are proportioned strangely to various degrees doing what they like to call downward facing dog and warrior posture.   Now, take anything that is not PG out of that picture because your mind is on the wrong page and being inappropriate and clean up that mental picture.  Now laugh.  You could probably just read the sentence about the poses without picturing anything and laugh.  Even so, laughing or not, that is the first thing I have done for myself so to speak.

You might not find the yoga so shocking possibly, but this next one is going to get you.  First a few clues.  My class is held at a business called The Woolie Ewe.  I am by far the youngest student.  Due to being the youngest student, I also happen to be the fastest…at everything…even being pregnant.  It requires two hands, and my mind but the rest is free to relax.

 Yup, knitting.  Didn’t think I had it in me did you?  Surprisingly enough, this is not my first encounter with a ball of yarn and needles.  Approximately 5 years ago I decided to teach myself to knit over the holiday break and I did so pretty darn successfully.  However, I recently decided that there was no better time to brush up these skills then when I am supposed to be “staying at home” and that a new relaxing hobby stereotypically suited for grandmothers is just what I needed.  Plus, pretty soon I am going to have blankets and booties and hats to make.  Well, last week was my first class and I just knew I would have to share it with you.  I just hope my mush of a memory can accurately recall all of the necessary events for this post.

1. I was attending knitting class, in the middle of the day, on a Wednesday.  That should tell you something right there.

2. Our lovely instructor happens to be a retired school-teacher.  I should mention that she taught troubled high schoolers, not “endearing” young-ins from an elementary level.

3. Let me introduce you to my classmates.  There was a Beatrice, Margaurite, Ellen, Patty and I am pretty sure a Glenda.  How is that mental picture coming?  Not good enough.  Lucky for you I used my handy, dandy phone to document a couple of my new friends for you.  Forgive the poor quality, I was trying to be as discreet as possible.  Poor things, they would probably have a heart attack if they knew I had a phone that doubled as a camera and that they were being featured on “the internets”.

So, with those things in mind (if you aren’t hysterical yet) our class went a little something like this.  First, our instructor told us stories of her rebel students from back in the day for a good twenty minutes at which point she began teaching. By beginning to teach I mean she showed it once on her needles which looked nothing like what we were using from the other end of the table and then said “Go”. Thank goodness I had already taught myself this and once my brain had a refresher my hands and memory took over because she was not very understanding about people who didn’t catch on the first time.  I thought the lady next to me might burst into tears at any moment as her needles were repeatedly yanked out of her hands as she was scolded with, “Weren’t you watching? You’re doing it all wrong.  Sweetheart, pay attention!”  Her progress (which yes was lacking, but still it was progress) was then yanked off her needles as she was told to start all over.

Here is the thing, you know that old phrase about old dogs and new tricks?  Take a look at my classmates again.  Add into this group a mother with major anxiety issues about leaving her kids at school and another really sweet woman who just desperately wants to learn something new and succeed and expect them to get it the first time.  I thought our teacher was going to quit.  Don’t get me wrong, she had unreasonable expectations and was WAY to preoccupied with former students stories and cats but unreasonable nonetheless.  I should take this time to mention that this really is a wonderful store and everyone is very friendly and helpful…our teacher just needed some elementary experience is all.  So they all plugged along, asking her to repeat and I just kept my head down happy to be back in the knitting game.  That’s right, back in it.  Go ahead…say something…I dare you…my mood shifts like a light switch and I’m full of nasty comebacks, so I would tread carefully, but go ahead, make a move.  No? I’ll move on then.

Once I proved I could cast on to my needles and make some rows of a basic knit stitch all on my own like a big girl I was sent into the wild and assigned the task of making a blanket for Baby Kaz.  I know this was my goal and all, to actually make things but now I feel the pressure.  The yarn in the top picture is what will be used and although you can’t see the color really well there, nor can you feel the quality I think it will be quite nice…if I sit down and work on it.  My classmates however may have still been staring at their practice yarn. 

So, I think I may have a new weekly entry titled “Today in knitting class…” and fill you in on the strange event of the day.  For last week, it was definitely this next story which is what I will leave you with until next time.

When I walked past another table I knew I was in trouble when I heard -

“Well Shirley, when I was making all of those cat beds for my babies [her cats] I used this wonderful yard over here.” 

Uh oh….cat talk, in a yarn/knitting store.  It was like I was in a movie.

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There are two things I have “craved” since being pregnant that might be a little abnormal.  Everyone always asks about cravings and wants to know how weird they get, so I thought that at a bit over 7 months, I would share.  Any guesses? 

- Pickles and ice cream is always the first guess - or pickles and something, like peanut butter. But nope, that isn’t it.   Next guess please.
- French fries dipped in a Wendy’s frosty?  Oh come on, that has nothing to do with pregnancy, but it is delicious treat in general.  So no, you’re wrong again. You think you got it this time? 
- A baked potato topped with bananas, a dash of Tabasco and a dollop of syrup.  Now that is just disgusting, I still have taste buds you know.

I suppose I should stop with the guesses before we all get so nauseated we can’t enjoy food again and just tell you.  The first thing I crave, more than cupcakes, chocolate , an honest to goodness caffeinated cappuccino or a glass of Merlot is a run.  You know, that form of exercise where you pick up your feet and travel at a pace that is faster than walking?  Yes, a run.  A long, sweaty, jog until my iPod is dead run.  My heart needs it.  My exercise clothes want it.  Even my achy knees are missing being tortured.  I tell you what, as soon as I get the all clear, Baby Kaz is going in our new jogging stroller and is going to feel the wind in his lack of hair (so tradition goes) - whether he likes it or not.  So there you go, the first craving.

On to the second craving that you might find a little off.  It is well, irrational and definitely not practical. However, it is oh so beautiful - sometimes.  I’ll just come right out and say it.

Shoes

Not just any shoes though - stilettos.  Heels.  Sexy heels and yes I say a shoe can in fact be sexy.  I haven’t always felt this way, yet when deprived of the ability to teeter on these magnificent creations my daily routine of getting dressed has been thrown off.  You see my feetsies currently always slide into boots.  Flat boots.  I’m not tall enough to always wear flat boots and flip flops.  As if taking away your right to sleep on your back isn’t bad enough, your right to have aching feet from balancing on a tiny post that suspends your foot up in a precarious arch position is also stripped.  I mean I could do it, but it would be dangerous.  On most days I can’t even see my feet.  On a normal day I trip a lot, even pre -pregnant.  So if you put a woman who cannot see her feetsies in stilettos and ask her to strut around while carrying a basketball in her middle throwing your center of gravity off it is trouble.

So much trouble actually, that I made the ultimate fashion faux purchase.  Actually Colter made the purchase, but it was for me so I have to take just as much blame.  I said I would never do it.  NEVER.  Then my pregnant piggies begged me to do it.  They pleaded with me to support them. (Don’t your feet talk to you? No. Hmmm…maybe I should look into that.)Crocs.  Yup. Crocs, the hideous rubber clog-like, worst fashion statement shoe since Uggs first came out and then grew on everyone.  Crocs.  I’m still embarrassed - but my feet are in heaven.  Regardless, even the comfort of crocs doesn’t take away the desire so I have another story for you…

A couple of weeks ago I made Colter stop at DSW because I had a stinking fabulous coupon that made buying yet another pair of boots not painful at all but a nice addition to my boot repertoire.  Until I walked by THEM.  The shoes that showed me yes, you could fall in love with a shoe.  Embarrassing again, I know.  (This feeling may or may not have been brought on by the lack of shoe purchases and the hormones.)I walked by them and continued on to the flat, pregnant, soon my feet will swell section and carried on with my goal - grey boots.  Colter was aimlessly wandering the men’s area trying his best to act like I wasn’t torturing him when as we left I mentioned them.
Husband: “Well, did you try them on?”
Pregnant Wife ”Now why would I go and do that to myself.”
Husband Again: “You should at least try them on, you could always get them to look at.”
Still Pregnant Wife: “Thanks, real encouraging, but fine, I’ll torture myself.”

So, as soon as I get one on he tells me that this is ridiculous and I was right when I didn’t try them on.  At this point I am like Cinderella and have seen the glass slipper on my foot.  I used my better judgement though and left them there, in their lonely box, at the big lonely store without an owner.  This story may not be a surprise to some of you though because I then proceeded to talk about my “Christmas Shoes” to my nearest and dearest.  I told you I was in love.

Did your heart skip a beat?  I think it did.
May I present….my Christmas shoes.  Don’t think I didn’t go around singing “Oh Christmas Shoes, Oh Christmas Shoes…” either.  I am in no way above doing that.  The hubs and I don’t do presents really.  We pick out a few things for us together before or after the holidays and claim those as our purchases but we leave the gift giving for our friends and family.  It’s just the way we are.  He was sneaky this year though.  He went back.  He went to DSW - alone.  He bought shoes for me in the right size.  He remembered the shoes.  He surprised me with shoes that I can look at in my closet now.

I cried.  Over shoes. A diamond ring probably wouldn’t have gotten the same reaction from me this year.  Sad I know.  I believe that I even recall the words “This is the nicest thing you have ever done.” coming out of my mouth.  Over shoes.

Leave me alone, I’m pulling the pregnant card.
One craving down, one to go….how to take care of that run????

“Oh Christmas Shoes, Oh Christmas Shoes…”

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As a kid one tradition I always remember observing and then helping with as my handwriting progressed, was Christmas cards.  Once Thanksgiving was over I sat at the table with my mom addressing those envelopes time and time again.  Until my handwriting passed the test I was the official envelope licker, and let me just tell you that they have really improved envelope flavor these days.  Between faulty glue and the Seinfeld episode where George’s fiance dies from licking the envelopes I would say the greeting card industry put some thought into it.  I mean really, they sit around all year thinking of holidays to create so making better glue couldn’t have been that hard right?

Man…my mush brain has caused me to deter yet again.  I would say it won’t happen again, but it will, probably several times.  I can say though that we never did the yearly letter inside each card which I don’t really feel obliged to do since I didn’t grow up with that and I think this here technological update you are reading keeps you pretty much “in the know” of what is going on around the Kazmann household on more than a yearly basis.  However, I vividly remember sending and receiving stacks of Christmas cards and it truly helped it to seem like the holidays.  Especially after moving I enjoyed seeing pictures of friend’s families or even my Dad’s clients whom I remembered having over for dinner and what not.

As if we don’t hear it enough, I know there are economy issues and this was a very easy thing for many to cut back on this year.  I just couldn’t do it.  I think I needed to still have our Christmas card as much for myself as for everyone else!  I love comparing our cards each year and seeing how we’ve grown and recalling what event from the year we chose to represent it.  Not to mention that this will be the last holiday greeting sent out from us that doesn’t include a miniature version of Colter  on them!

If our card did not make its way to your mailbox this year, I apologize.  I try to start updating my card list in November each year with current addresses so that I am ready to go and as many of the people on our list are still moving around quite a bit I think many got lost or left in mailboxes that the “addressee” to longer resides at.  So, to only make you feel semi left-out you can open this entry and stare at our card on the computer as opposed to the cardstock version in your hand.  I will do better next year.  I hope you enjoy the remaining days of the holidays, any time you may get off work and are able to relax with family and friends!

Happy Holidays! ~ Colter, Casey, Bo and Thrasher

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First I should apologize for being hard on the help in my last post, also known as my father.  I in no way meant to risk my contractor losing his “sous-contractor” due to slandering and/or assumptions that may or may not be true.  I can vouch that this sous-contractor is in fact very handy and helpful in any sort of project and while he may not have been fully aware of the contractor’s full intentions at some points along the way I am sure he was working very hard and not just playing games on his iPhone. :)  He also has been fully responsible for reassembling the shelves in the current residence, Baby Kaz’s room and has more than proven his involvement in this project.  Please accept this heartfelt apology.

Thanks~ Mgmt

Their brains took the idea, from paper to the real-deal but now all of our brains had arrived at the same dilemma.  How exactly, were these shelves going to get from Florida to Texas?  Of course there were many options….drive them there, ship them, Greyhound bus, carry them and hitchhike, but we were hoping to keep it at least semi-economical and practical.  I’m thinking the hitchhiking doesn’t fit in the practical category but at least I was throwing out ideas.  I mean, sure we could throw economics out the window completely but might as well research and compare the options.  The real problem was going to be figuring out how to get it from this wonderful “finished expect for paint form”, into boxes.

(I should mention that I say “we” very loosely. In fact, “we” should really not be used at all, because I had absolutely NOTHING to do with any of this.  Always interesting when you aren’t actually capable of helping in any way yet the work at hand is still caused by you.  So again, we really just means that my brain was there in thought.  Glad we cleared that up.)

Naturally, when you have something massive to move 1,250 miles take and have spent a few days constructing it, just take it all back apart, build your own shipping crates and pack it in.  Who doesn’t think of that? Duh.  ( I think they just wanted to build something else. Kidding…only kidding.) 

 They packed up three newly formed crates and off they went with a shipping notice sent to my Inbox. (Whooo-hooo I’m involved again! I told you I would come back, but the shipping e-mail is about it.)  A few days later I arrived home to this glorious scene - they arrived!  Dilemma #2 was the fact that I was home alone with no way to move these feather light (Do you sense sarcasm?) crates off of my porch.

Fortunately, the sous-contractor arrived soon and just like his father he couldn’t relax for long and immediately continued on his project. 

Step One - Take apart the crates and inspect the goods. 

Step Two - Reassemble the shelves in various pieces. 

Step Three - Verify the measurements and ensure that they will fit. (The moment of truth people.)

Step Four - Remove them into chunks again and paint them babies.

Step Five - Taaaaaaaa daaaaa check out Baby Kaz’s new room!!!

Tricked you! You are going to have to wait to see the shelves in their final spot because well, I like to keep you coming back.  Selfish I know.  I can say this though. They are in place, painted and they fit.  Did I mention that they look fantastic?  Dad and Mark really out-did themselves and the shelving unit is already showing how useful they will be.    Of course you can’t tell that because well, you haven’t seen it yet.  A few minor things to finish up but now that they are in, I suppose I have to start working on the rest of the room since this has been my excuse up until now.  Project Long-Distance Renovation…COMPLETE!!!

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At the mercy of a hormonal concept and working with measurements that could possibly be faulty, Santa’s workshop opened for business - in Orlando.  Didn’t you know that he actually likes to work where it is semi-warm prior to flying all over the world for deliveries?  I mean, the freezing temperatures makes your hands freeze which is just all sorts of risky, so Orlando is the perfect place for Santa’s Workshop.  North Pole my foot.

This post is a little different since I wasn’t there and was no longer receiving phone calls with job requests on my end.  I can really only make some assumptions based on knowing how my Dad works and my Uncle’s project-oriented brain.
- They surely drew an elaborate plan…with every perfect detail laid out.
- Mark most definitely had everything worked out in his head - or at least enough to get started and keep the process going as he worked.
- They spent WAY too much time in Home Depot getting supplies with all of the other manly items in there to distract them.
- Dad only half knew what was going on since Mark was running this show.  Meaning, they each had separate plans in their heads and weren’t fully on the same page with each other.  Not yet…no way…no how.

Just a couple of guesses I have.  The best part about Santa’s Workshop is that it has every tool of every kind.  You need something to make a koala bear out of a piece of trash wood you say?  I bet Santa has it and can do it.  That may have been a poor example, but I think you get the point.  The other thing about my contractors is that they get to it and move at a pace like any other.  I get that first picture from my Dad’s phone and then I swear a few hours later I get the whole kit and kaboodle.

I do know this.  Supposedly, there were no mistakes made.  Supposedly, they didn’t even have to go to Home Depot in the middle on construction because they got the right supplies first time.  Supposedly my Dad was working…but I just have pictures of Mark working.  Kidding father, kidding.  The only other semi-odd occurrence is that Santa made an actual appearance. 

Weird I know.  Santa, building MY shelves.  How lucky can a girl get?  Unfortunately, I also heard that he brought “cold” weather with him.  My poor, Floridian father’s feet were frozen off inside his boat shoes because of the high-fifty degree weather. He had to borrow socks to wear with his deck shoes. I know, such a sad occurrence.  Socks and boat shoes just shouldn’t be worn together - I mean, the cold feet are sad, yeah the cold feet, not the fashion statement.

So, laid out in the driveway the project was.  The final, painted, put in place version will make a bit more sense, but there are the cubby shelves for wicker baskets to sit in and the bench seat in the middle that will fit right under the window.  Having trouble?  Just remember, this is all going on Baby Kaz’s wall.  What you can’t see in this is all of the molding detail on each and every edge.  Uncle Mark LOVES molding, and detail, which really just makes him my kind of contractor.

This is what he had to say…

“Last Saturday in Santa’s Workshop…..The sawdust was flying, the glue was drying, the sander was singing, the nail guns were pinging. The 3 crates are in transit, it’s up to UPS , I can’t stand it.

I had the most wonderful Saturday and Today! I bunch of Cool STUFF happened in the garage again. Thank you for giving me opportunity to share in the joy and fun and sharing a part of preparing your Nursery. I wish I could be there to assemble it with your Dad. He and I had such a BALL!!! The car back in the garage. we are swept up, trash is out to the street. Ye Olde Workshop truly was SMOKEN.”

Who knew they would be thanking me for putting them to work?  I can’t wait to see the finished version.  Oh wait…they were built in Florida.  I don’t live in Florida.   Santa?  Did Rudoloh eat his Wheaties this year?

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So, as discussed a few days ago, the idea was rolling and the winning contractors turned out to be my Uncle who just so happened to have built his own house and my Dad…who well, loves any excuse for a project and the use of tools.  Remember, this wasn’t something I expected anyone to take seriously but they jumped right on it and were ready for a challenge.  Soooooooooo I used my best pregnant English, which yes, sounds different then non-prego American talk because well it rambles, and goes on tangents and forgets it’s point mid-sentence….kind of like right now.  Oh yeah - I was using my best knocked up vocabulary to inform my newly “hired” men of what I was thinking.  I was just worried they wanted me to draw it or I don’t know measure.  Usually when I measure it goes a little like this “Yeah, it looks like it is about 8 inches plus 3 of those little dashes.  Maybe 4 dashes.  Oops, I wasn’t holding it straight - definitely 8 and 7 dashes now.”

Fortunately, my dad was able to be in town shortly after this idea sparked inspiration so that he could take note of all the measurements they would need. (That way…if they were wrong, which surely a man has never made a measurement mistake, but just in case they were, it would not be my fault ).  He plugged those numbers into his computer and busted out some diagrams so that we could get a rough idea of what this unit of shelves just might look like.  Phew! It appeared that this project might actually fit on the wall!

….and then his computer crashed….

….all measurements were lost…

…some were recovered….

That’s right, the bulk of them were recovered because I had the basics down, but then I got the phone call. The phone call asking me to go upstairs with that ruler that rolls up and makes a hell of a lot of noise.  Ah yes….a tape measurer.  Did I mention I was home alone and 6 months pregnant when I got this call?  There I am, pullling myself up the stairs with one arm, a tape measurer in my other hand and my phone between my cheek and shoulder.  I was supposed to measure like that. Ha!!!  I was “verifying” some measurements which let me tell you, trying to measure all the way across a wall without someone on the other end is quite challenging…especially when you don’t quite bend like you used to.  There was a lot of this..”It looks like it is about ______________.”  “I think it is around ________________.”  “No, it doesn’t appear to be the same.”  No, I am in no way confident in these numbers.

Thank goodness my contractors are perfectionists….I am just hoping  it doesn’t come to these measurements I was verifying because I can guarantee that it won’t fit if it does!

Shortly after the phone call I began getting pictures from “Santa’s Workshop” (via my Dad’s iPhone) of the construction process beginning with Mark’s elaborate sketches. Please, oh please, let this fit….I mean numbers are numbers right?  Two inches in Texas is still two inches in Florida right?  Unless it should have been two inches plus three dashes.  Man, those get me everytime!

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I thought of titling this post “Ideas from the Head of a Pregnant Woman” - it was a tough choice.

A few months ago now, okay 6 + plus ago we found out that one of our rooms was going to need to house a baby - become a nursery if you will.  As we spread the news we also picked the room in our house that would become his.  (Of course at that time it was going to be “his or hers” since we didn’t know Baby Kaz was coming well-equipped to be a “gentlemen“.)  But now we obviously know it is for Baby Kaz, our baby boy.  Since I was/am pregnant it means I come up with a lot of hairbrained, only partly rational, ideas that seem truly fantastic to me but that I also of course can pretty much not help with in any way, shape or form.

You know, ideas like….let’s move all of these craft boxes from this closet, across the house to that closet.  Oh, but I can’t pick all of those up anymore.  Oooooohhhhh let’s put that entertainment unit we are no longer using upstairs ,downstairs in our garage to serve as another shelving unit.  Here I will stand out of the way while you get that down the stairs.  Hey, I am going outside, I think I’ll put socks and shoes on.  Oh…I can’t quite get to my feet today. (Okay, fine, that wasn’t so much of an idea, but I had to slip it in there.)  Along with those ideas, I want to share a picture with you.

  This is Baby Kaz’s wall.  Yes, he only gets one wall, weird I know.  No I am not serious, he gets three more.  We love him that much.  Don’t mind the crooked blinds, they weren’t cooperating when I raised them and I didn’t care enough to keep trying.  Now that we have the nonsense that I felt I had to explain to you out of the way, I will get to the point.  I looked at this wall and thought to myself (and to my family in a PowerPoint presentation) wouldn’t it be just wonderful to have built it shelves with a bench seat under the window along that wall?  It would take the place of needing extra, needless furniture to just fill the room and could really help with organization - not to mention look so stinking cute with the sitting area. 

One of those hairbrained, not actually going to happen and I sure can’t build anything that would resemble well…anything…but it is a nice idea for someone who knows a contractor, or has one in their family along with a lot of handymen and….wait a minute.  I have a contractor in my family.  Not only do I have a contractor, all of the Orr men are strangely genius with tools and blueprints and saws. 

Ding, ding ding! We have a winner.  Never mind the fact that they live in Florida.  I mean that is a minor, minor detail.  Right?  Long-distance renovation, let it begin.

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