Sunday Musette
Painting news
I've spent the weekend painting the kid's bathroom. Mary and Lyndsay stripped the wallpaper a few days ago. I got it all prepped and primed, and started the sand texture paint today. I've worked with this stuff before. It does a good job over drywall that's had wallpaper. I will NEVER buy a house with wallpaper again, unless I make scads of money and can hire someone to deal with it.
But I've been married long enough to know that it's good household politics to let Mary choose the color. However, I did exercise my veto power when she thought about pink or lilac. She chose a nice shade of green, sort of a blue-green color. In fact, she chose what appears to be the exact shade of Celeste Green that Bianchi uses! What a woman!
I think the bathroom will be perfectamente with the addition of a poster of Fausto Coppi or maybe Tulio Campagnolo.
Nachos
"Dad? Can you make nachos for lunch?"
This came from my sixteen-year-old son, Jordan, a teenager who's entirely disabled when it comes to actually cooking anything. Even making a sandwich is beynd him, though he does have some perverse fascination with holding the refrigerator door open while staring at its contents for minutes.
"You'll need to go to the store," I said. "We need Velveeta, Rotelle, and sausage."
He was ready to go in a few minutes. "Aren't you going to drive me down there, Dad?" The grocery store is a 10 minute walk down the hill.
"No, here's some money. Walk down and get the goodies."
He was astounded. Walk? When there's football games to watch on television? He quickly talked his sister into driving.
When he returned home, more horrors ensued.
I refused to make the nachos. Instead, I stood next to him and talked him through the process. It's really easy, but to my cooking-aversive son, it may as well have been rocket science. He browned and drained the sausage, cubed the cheese and melted it in the microwave, and then combined the cheese, sausage and Rotelle. Easy!
But I'd held my ace until the last. "Now that you know how to make nachos," I said, "the next time you can make them yourself, and even better, your sister knows you can make them too!"
His mouth fell open. He stood there dumstruck as the implications sunk in.
I'm SO mean!
I've spent the weekend painting the kid's bathroom. Mary and Lyndsay stripped the wallpaper a few days ago. I got it all prepped and primed, and started the sand texture paint today. I've worked with this stuff before. It does a good job over drywall that's had wallpaper. I will NEVER buy a house with wallpaper again, unless I make scads of money and can hire someone to deal with it.
But I've been married long enough to know that it's good household politics to let Mary choose the color. However, I did exercise my veto power when she thought about pink or lilac. She chose a nice shade of green, sort of a blue-green color. In fact, she chose what appears to be the exact shade of Celeste Green that Bianchi uses! What a woman!
I think the bathroom will be perfectamente with the addition of a poster of Fausto Coppi or maybe Tulio Campagnolo.
Nachos
"Dad? Can you make nachos for lunch?"
This came from my sixteen-year-old son, Jordan, a teenager who's entirely disabled when it comes to actually cooking anything. Even making a sandwich is beynd him, though he does have some perverse fascination with holding the refrigerator door open while staring at its contents for minutes.
"You'll need to go to the store," I said. "We need Velveeta, Rotelle, and sausage."
He was ready to go in a few minutes. "Aren't you going to drive me down there, Dad?" The grocery store is a 10 minute walk down the hill.
"No, here's some money. Walk down and get the goodies."
He was astounded. Walk? When there's football games to watch on television? He quickly talked his sister into driving.
When he returned home, more horrors ensued.
I refused to make the nachos. Instead, I stood next to him and talked him through the process. It's really easy, but to my cooking-aversive son, it may as well have been rocket science. He browned and drained the sausage, cubed the cheese and melted it in the microwave, and then combined the cheese, sausage and Rotelle. Easy!
But I'd held my ace until the last. "Now that you know how to make nachos," I said, "the next time you can make them yourself, and even better, your sister knows you can make them too!"
His mouth fell open. He stood there dumstruck as the implications sunk in.
I'm SO mean!
posted by Ed W at 5:18 PM
1 Comments:
Mmmm, Nachos.
How about this Fausto poster for your bathroom?. (Seen in the restroom at Palo Alto Bicycles).
Post a Comment
<< Home