Lynn Raye Harris

What I’ve learned about renovation that differs from HGTV:

1. It takes longer than 30 minutes.

2. There is only one Carter Oosterhouse — and all the other semi-decently good looking carpenters and contracters are also employed by HGTV. Because they aren’t at my house.

My renovation project has officially gone over time. I think. See, I distinctly remember someone telling me it’d be done in a week (it’s not a big project, really). But that was probably before they factored in — what I like to call — the drunken drywall dude.

Oh, I’m not saying he was drunk on site. But he IS a drunk. And that affects how quickly he works, when he shows up for work, and when he has to leave. Because alcoholics need their drinks and they need their recovery time. Take, for instance, the exchange on Friday afternoon when he asked me if he could come at 8AM and work until about noon on Saturday to finish the drywall. And I said sure, because hubby and I don’t typically get motivated to run around town until noonish anyway.

Now, when I tell him it’s okay, I’m looking at him sort of askance and thinking, “Yeah, like you’ll actually be here.” The day I was told he’d be here at noon, he didn’t arrive until almost 3. And it was nearly Friday night and he looked like he needed a drink. Eight AM on a Saturday seemed about as likely as a short trip to the moon and back.

What do you think happened?

Exactly. I’m up at 8, waiting. No dude. Nine comes, no dude. A different dude, not drywall, arrives to put speaker wires in the wall and do some other things. This guy is nice, competent, and a great worker. I like and trust him. If he says he’ll be here, he’ll be here.

Drywall dude never shows. Never calls. Nada. Monday morning, drywall dude arrives with another dude (presumably a babysitter of sorts) and they finish the drywall. Do you think he said a word to me about Saturday?

Nope.

But that’s not my only adventure in renovation yesterday! In the afternoon, a different guy shows up — not with my renovation contractor, I can tell, because he has no company truck. He’s in a green truck, he’s not wearing a shirt (and, alas, he looks nothing like our example above), and I’m thinking he must be at the wrong place. He gets out of the truck, digs around for a shirt, manages to get it on, and comes to my door.

It’s the tile guy from my builder come to finish my backsplash. Did I mention I’ve lived in this house for over a year? That the tile people have made and broken more appointments than I can even remember? He showed up unannounced (good thing I was home!), alone, and with tile that looked suspiciously wrong. After much banging on the tile, frightening the cats, and asking my opinion about the color once he’d sealed it, the backsplash is done and tile dude is gone. I can only hope the color holds out once the sealer dries.

So, that’s my excuse for not having a Monday post. Adventures in reno land, minus the good-looking hunky shirtless guy in a toolbelt and jeans. And that crazy HGTV tries to make it look so easy (and sexy), don’t they? What kind of house project adventures have you had?

I have workmen in my house, hammering, sawing, and making noise all day — and I’m eyeball deep in revisions. So, nothing new from me. Except I could use a quiet afternoon all to myself…..

Whass up with you?

Sunday night, the weather was nice, just a little breezy. He sent an email at 8AM that said it was getting pretty windy, though they still had power. He expects it to go out later in the day. But, he’s got that generator and plenty of supplies. He also said they’d had 6 to 10 inches of rain by about 11 something last night when he sent his first update.

I’ve been watching the news about Gustav with growing dread and a sense of panic. When Katrina hit, I was in Hawaii. I don’t think any of us knew what to expect then. Did I mention I have family there? A brother and his family, aunts, a grandmother, a cousin. They are north of New Orleans in a town on the edge of Lake Ponchartrain. Last time, they were lucky. This time?

I don’t know, but my brother isn’t leaving yet. He’s waiting to make a decision. And I look at this picture and say, “What in hell is there to wait for? A miracle!?” My grandmother is in a nursing home, and they’ve already evacuated. The aunts and cousin? No idea. We aren’t close, so I don’t know.

So keep New Orleans, and all of lower Louisiana most especially, in your thoughts. I’m hoping for a miracle too. But I don’t expect it. I hope my brother piles the family in the car today and decides to come to Alabama. We’re waiting with open arms and a safe haven.

It was so successful last week that we need another Talk Back Tuesday today! (Well, okay, it made *me* feel better….)

Today, I’m complaining about my bug service. The technician drives up and sits in his car, then puts an invoice on my door. He did not spray anything. I am ticked. Still, not wanting to get him in trouble (I’m too nice), I call and explain that I’m pretty sure he didn’t do what he was supposed to do (I *know* he didn’t do it). The supervisor informs me he has never, ever had a call about this guy in the past. I said, “Well I’m sure he’s a nice person, but he’s also human. It’s hot, and he did not get out of his truck. I can promise you that.” I felt like it was my word against the tech’s, and of course it is, but still — why would I make this up? Who wants MORE chemicals sprayed around their house?

Anyway, the supervisor is sending him back out today to spray around my house. But how will I know he did it? I’m sure he will do it this time, having been caught red-handed, but how will I know that he’ll do it in the future? Every time I see that invoice on my door, I’m going to wonder.

Would you change services? Or would you give them another chance? This is a known chain, not just a local company. What is your tolerance limit for stuff like this? Hubby thinks I’m too nice, but I think everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. Still, as we continue forward from this point, I’m not sure I trust this guy. *sigh*

Oops, I got sidetracked this weekend and never got around to writing a new post for the week. We in Chez Harris were supposed to trek to the Big Easy over the weekend. There, we would attend a family reunion on my dad’s side, tour New Orleans, and take a trip down the River Road where we would stop at plantations like Oak Alley and be amazed.

Alas, it never happened since, as I reported last week, my dad had a minor car accident. So what did we do instead? Nothing exciting. On the 4th, we went shopping for a bit, then went to my parents’ house for a cook out (it rained, naturally). Saturday, home projects took center stage — and Saturday night, we trekked over to Decatur to see the Alabama Blues Brothers perform. They are AWESOME. If you like the Blues Brothers, these guys do an amazing job of bringing all the fun and liveliness of the movie and SNL performances to the stage. Great time.

Sunday, more home stuff — hubby put together some closet organizer things and I went shopping for flowers and groceries. Yeah, seriously exciting.

So now it’s Monday, and I have that disorientation that a long weekend brings. You know the feeling, don’t you? Where it’s time to get back to work and all you can do is think about the laziness of the weekend?

I’ll leave you with a little taste of the Alabama Blues Brothers. This is a promo for the concert we attended. I’d definitely see them again. Talented guys.

What’d you do this weekend? Anything fun?

I got nothing to talk about. You? Any big plans for the July 4th holiday? Mine involved New Orleans, crawfish, family, and sightseeing. Until mon pere had a tiny little car accident last night. Now, the trip is canceled until the fall. Ah well. Really, I need the time to prepare for SF anyway! Much shopping to do, lists to make, etc. (Everyone is fine — except the car, that is.)

I’m also reading Roxanne St. Claire’s Then You Hide and feeling depressed. Rocki is SOOOO good. I’ve been wanting to read the book for a while, but deadlines and all that kept me from reading much of anything. And now I’m turning pages like my fingers are on fire and wondering if I’ll ever be this good. I can only hope!

Any good books on your list this summer? Any cool trips planned?

Not yet, but he’s going to be. In the Harris house, we have a cat who likes to knock things over. He’s very good at it, too. He’s broken lamps before. Routinely knocks over water bottles. Do NOT leave a glass of wine out. He’ll knock it over and then try to bury it. So what did he try to knock over that nearly got him killed?

I have a piano (nope, can’t really play). On top of the piano I have some knick knacks. One is a lovely young lady playing a piano. I didn’t think much of it until my mother said, “Uh, you might want to look that up. I think it’s pretty valuable.” It’s a Lladro, a piece of Spanish porcelain, and it’s very beautiful.

Still, I wasn’t thinking it would be like astronomical or anything. So, I find the cat on the piano with his paw on the Lladro. The figurine is making a sort of glassy chunking noise as it moves over the top of the piano. I yell and toss the cat into a room to chill. Then I research.

OMG, the twerp almost knocked $1200 onto the floor where it would have shattered and been worth ZERO. I’m thinking of killing him. Or maybe I’ll just move the figurine.

So, have your kids or pets ever broken something valuable? Ever ticked you off severely because you CANNOT have nice things!? (Wasn’t it Bill Cosby who said that? We can’t have nice things because of you…) Has something gotten broken and then you realized after the fact that it was valuable? Grrrr.

Maybe tomorrow this blog will return to its regularly scheduled writing-type posts…. Idiot cat.

Thursday, I typed The End to THE SPANISH MAGNATE’S REVENGE. It was sometime Thursday evening, and I went downstairs doing the Rocky fists in the air thing. Hubby said, “So you finished?”

Nothing is better than the feeling you get when you finish a manuscript. But, the work is never over. Friday morning, I printed it out for the first complete read on paper. I knew I’d have to revise — that’s part of the process for me — and I knew by Friday afternoon, I’d be depressed with what I had to do.

Friday afternoon, yep, I’m depressed, convinced I can’t write and I’m going to embarrass myself by sending this manuscript to my editor. But I’m determined to get to work on it, of course. I will fix it, I will! It won’t defeat me! I’m the writer, it’s the creation. Yeah!

And then hubby comes home. He’s a little late, but sometimes that happens and I didn’t think much of it. Until he gave me a bag with two bottles of wine, a card, and a dozen roses. Awwwwww! I was so touched. He knew how much it meant to me to finish this book, and he was proud of me. *sniffle, sniffle*

I’m halfway through the revisions and feeling much better. But it all started with roses and a card (and wine!) from my sweetie. I enjoyed the flowers all weekend, the card is sitting with the congrats cards that my chaptermates sent for the GH and Presents contests, and the wine disappeared.

Being a writer can be a solitary business, but it’s great to have the support of the ones you love. Even when they don’t quite understand why you have a glazed look or why you didn’t hear the question they asked you three times already.

Have you ever embarrassed your loved ones by saying something along the lines of, “So, if I kidnap the sister, how do I get the yacht to crash?” in a public place? Guilty as charged….

Sunday, hubby and I went to my parents’ house for dinner. The appearance of a lone firefly at dusk precipitated a crisis as we began to discuss fireflies (or lightning bugs in the South). Hubby grew up in upstate NY. As a kid, he remembered catching jars of fireflies and being fascinated with them.

I remember the same as a kid growing up in the South. The field beside our house would be lit up like a small city with fireflies. I would stand and watch, along with my brothers, fascinated. Yes, we caught them in jars and tried to keep them. I think any kid who kept a firefly overnight knows they don’t last in a jar. *sigh*

So where are they now? Why do you only see one every now and then? My house backs up to good ol’ Alabama woodland. I stood last night after we came home, waiting to see the woods light up. I saw ONE.

Do you think our perceptions as kids were skewed, that we only thought there were tons of them? Or do you think our modern environment has done something? The chemicals we use on our yards, the sprays for mosquitoes, the proliferation of chemical environmental control in our homes?

I just don’t know. I tried looking it up and got a variety of answers. 1) Mosquito chemicals are specific to mosquitoes. 2) Firefly habitats are disappearing as man encroaches. 3) Dry seasons aren’t conducive to firefly life cycles. You need rain and moist vegetation for fireflies to breed.

I don’t know, but it feels like a magical thing, especially for children, has disappeared from our lives. Do you remember fireflies? Did you grow up seeing millions of them light the night sky? Or did you grow up without them? If you remember them in the thousands and millions, do you ever wonder what happened to them?

Just curious….