Today is a momentous day in my family.

Dad is retiring today.

Dad's always had souped-up cars, always been mechanically inclined and a great driver. For a bit he drove cement trucks delivering cement around the Ozarks for house foundations. We've driven past many a house where he said "I poured the cement on that house" or another. Dad repaired aircraft in Panama in the army in the early 60s. At one point, he was applying for a job with the railroads, but a job as mechanic came along sooner and he took that. For years he worked in the garage for Schilling Motors on Union Avenue in Memphis, where he'd win their "Ace Wrench" award again and again. He's an amazing mechanic. In 1979, Dad moved us down to the Dallas area.

Today is Dad's last day at the shop he started with his brother about 31 years ago. Dad's a busy, industrious person, and he was hard to talk into not working, but his car repair business is open-air, and this summer is so brutal, and it's a relief to me to know he's not going to be working that hard in this heat for one more summer. This does not come without a price. I know that his patrons will be the worse for it, but that can't be helped.

Dad is an incredible mechanic. He is mathematically-minded with great spatial sense, and a keen understanding of How Things Work. He has a way of making things right that no one else can, but more than that, Dad has a big heart and he's one of those people who never would look the other way if he had an opportunity to do a good thing. Once he told me a young man came in, poor-looking, with wife in the passenger seat and three little kids in the back seat. The father made the family sit in the car while Dad worked on it. It was over 100 degrees, the windows were all down. There was something not right with the engine, and the A/C was out of freon. He asked Dad how much for fixing the problem, Dad told him, and he asked how much to top off the freon, and Dad told him that. The man said just to fix the other problem and forget about the freon. This kind of rankled Dad-- he hated seeing those little kids so miserable. Dad didn't say anything, but he fixed the issue with the car and topped off the freon. He turned the car on to show the guy he'd fixed it, then sent the guy into the office so they could settle up. Before he got out of the car, he didn't say a word, but he reached over and flipped on the A/C. The young wife's eyes got huge and she grinned, relieved. Dad didn't charge the guy for it. Never said a word about it. For those kids and that lady that day, Dad was an Angel.

Another time, a young woman came in and needed something done. Dad said she seemed in a terrible state of distress, and he thought there was something going on in her life that was very bad. Again, she didn't seem to have much, materially. She asked how much it would be to fix her car, that she didn't have much money and he said "let's have a look at it." He set to fixing it. She was fraught with worry and asked how much when it was done. He said "oh, $40 oughta cover it." He had more in the job on parts, than that. She was so happy and said "that's exactly what I have in my pocket!" excitedly. He said "well, I don't want to take all your money, $20 should be fine." He said she started crying, and he felt badly, like she had really been kicked around in life, sort of had a hounded look. There's no telling how much that meant to her.

In case you're wondering, my folks are great with money and Dad bought us an incredible house and always kept us very well by being basically nice and decent to people and doing great work for reasonable rates. Dad is judicious with money, but he has been successful by placing a premium on doing what is right, rather than what would yield more profit.

One last story and I'll stop here, though there are many, many more and probably countless tales I don't know about. Some years back, one of the local Dallas news teams did an exposé on local rip-off car repair businesses. They regaled set-up tales one after another of going into local businesses to film mechanics charging for unnecessary work, and overcharging for what they actually did. At the end of the article, they said there was a bright story and there was one shop they could heartily recommend. They'd gone into Dad's shop and asked what was wrong with their car. He looked under the hood and said "well, here's your problem right there" and simply reconnected something that was unhooked, and told them it should be fine now. The undercover person was dumbfounded, asked how much they owed him. Dad said no charge a couple times, but the person insisted, Dad said he hated to take their money but $5 would be okay. The article ended by saying here was a decent person who didn't take advantage and people should go to him for car repairs. When have you ever heard of that happening before?

Dad will not be idle, now. He has big renovation plans for the family manse, and no doubt that's going to keep him very busy. He may embark on some new venture, too, but for now, I'm delighted he can prop up his feet a bit.

You can tell a lot about a person about how he treats other people when no one is looking. My Dad is an angel, and has been to a great many people, and will continue to do so at every opportunity, I've no doubt. But he's going to bedevil the fish at the area lakes more often, now. Happy retirement day, Dad.

Remember my treehouse lights?

Squirrels have chewed through the wires. This is war. Me and my little Dead Squirrel Whisperer* may not stem the onslaught of your kind entirely, but we will be a pox on your houses. Srsly.

I'm thinking of taking up squirrel taxidermy.

Yup. I just might do it. Me an my bitch will rain fiery squirrelly death in my yard. You think I'm kidding. I jihad you! Frelling squirrels!

There's going to be plenty of your little carcasses around. I have most of a brick of Super Colibri left, and another brick where that came from. I'll get you, my pretties, with my little dog, too!

*Praline

hide rant.

Friday I had the displeasure of spending hours on the phone with a woman bearing all the fluffy, cuddly attributes of a rattlesnake. This razor-tongued harpy brought even my supremely diplomatic self to points of profound bluntness.

She complained a vendor had said something horrible to her. I told her that was appalling, unacceptable language and I apologized, said she should not have been spoken to in that way. I went on to say that if she had been as abusive to that vendor as she had been to me, well, I completely understood what inspired his rudeness.

Instead of responding to what I said, she just took off in another, ranty direction. It was bizarre, like some wind-up toy that hits a wall, spins on its heels and goes listing off on some other tack, endlessly spooling what is obviously an oft-employed, mindless ranting method.

Later on, she said

"...and who knows if they're going to come tomorrow, and what are you going to do tomorrow when it's 6:00 and they're not there and you're not around, you're not gonna be around tomorrow. Where you gonna be? Are you gonna be available tomorrow 24-7 to address this when this comes up?"

I uttered the unvarnished truth: "Absolutely not."

Seriously. Why should I come to work on my off-day to listen to someone who doesn't want solutions, only wants to abuse?

She ended the call by saying I was going to clock out and not think of her again at 8:00 pm.

Oh, if only.

She obviously gets some big emotional payoff from ranting. I really wonder about people like that. You fix the problem and there's still this endless pool of angst and vitriol, blurting out like water from a hydrant. They never heard the thing about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar, because they never shut up long enough. Fortunately, I don't ever have to deal with her again.

for a brief instant,

I considered looking up the previous skidmark post on Snopes, and then I thought "why spoil the fun?" I've since heard rumblings that the story has be debunked. Ah, well.

*******************

My one year anniversary came recently at my job. I'm really happy I made the switch, and I've never once doubted my decision. My colleagues are very nice, most of the customers are a delight to assist, and I always feel like in helping myself, I'm really helping other people, which is gratifying to me, for some demented reason. The folks at the company make great show of appreciating my efforts and the fact that I really care, so that is happy-making for me too. Generally, even working tons of overtime, I'm always enjoying what I'm doing and trying to excel my previous efforts. Again, I'm so happy a friend pointed me in the direction of the company, and I'm glad I took the chance and made the leap. :)

*******************

It's about 110 degrees every day, lately. My attic is poorly insulated and the 8 remaining of the original 14 windows are sieve-like at best. I'm sort of to the point where if my house can stay 20 or 25 degrees below the outdoor temperature in daytime, I have to be grateful for that. This coming weekend, to my delight, the issue of the insulation in the attic will be put to rest as some dear friends and Himself will be installing insulation. Yays!
I'm so looking forward to that. :)

Have a great Tuesday.

a Scottish wedding of another stripe...

I LOVE the crap out of this news article:

h/t to my Lovely friend Lin

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: my drowsy darling

In recent weeks, I've been working very long, very late hours. The pups generally will climb into their little bed in the kitchen about 10PM. After getting off late on Friday night, Chuy came in and hopped up in my lap at the computer, imploring me to go to bed. Maybe he only wanted a soft and warm human with which to cuddle, but I'm telling myself that all he longed for was his one and only mommy. :)

I was saddened to hear of the passing of Peter Falk.

Actually, I was more saddened to hear of his battle with dementia that preceeded his passing.

Peter was such a lovely soul. I know-- he was an actor-- but I think there was a golden light that shone out of him, and that was no act.

He enjoys the distinction of creating one of my most treasured movie moments in all of filmdom.

In Wim Wenders' exquisite Wings of Desire, lovely Bruno Ganz plays a guardian angel. He is besotted with a trapeze girl from a circus, and is considering falling to earth, becoming mortal. In this startling scene, for the first time in millennia of existence, a mortal addresses him in the form of Peter Falk, who is in Berlin filming a drama. Later in the film, we learn Peter Falk's secret.

Stunning film, lovely story, beautifully told, and made perfect by the inclusion of one angelically lovely man, Peter Falk.


May he rest in peace, and may all his dear ones be blessed.

how does one know...

...when limes are ready for picking/consuming?

They start out life as a little lime-green nubbin, and they never seem to change colors from that state until they are this big. These are Mexican Key limes, so I know they'll be smaller than standards, but these seem especially tiny...






Since I usually get asked, I'll tell you the nailpolish looks more sea-green in person, but the base coat is Funky Fingers Emerald Depths #73 and I put a glitter coat on top of that in Sinful Colors' Nail Junkie #927. ooh, shiny!

Have you ever seen a dust devil?

I've seen them loads of times driving throughout the southwest, but I've never seen such a huge one as I saw Wednesday. It was absolutely eerie, this column of red dirt funneling up into the nearly cloudless sky. I know it wasn't a tornado, but it looked so much like one that it was mesmerising. ANd yes, I've seen a tornado in person, and that is absolutely chilling. This has only the vestigal effects of that chill, but there is a definite chill. Like the unlikely, spindly, clockwork-like moving of a spider, a dust devil or tornado is something which draws the eye, pulls focus like nothing else. In temperatures topping 100 degrees F, an ice dagger plummeted through my heart.

...in which I heave a small sigh.

I promise I'm not TRYING to find the turd in the punchbowl. It's just sort of there.

There's something major wrong with each of these two windows. The one with muntins in the bottom sash is an easy fix. They've already ordered a plain sash and the nice window guy will just pop by in a couple weeks and switch that out when it comes in.

I decided I wanted the colonial style muntins in the upper panes because it's sort of cute. Being as someone ground all personality out of the house with cheap vinyl siding and no framing around the windows, I thought the little old lady could use the extra oomph of a bit of feature in the windows themselves. Think of it as mascara.

The other problem is so enormous that the entire window will have to be replaced, alas.

Can you see it? Something in me wants to shrug this off and say it's not a big deal, but what if an OCD person wants to buy my house someday, and that one wonky window is the deal-breaker? I think I'll be swinging by Home Depot tomorrow with my photos, alas. :(

All that aside, the house is SO much cooler already. The window over the sink had a big gap at the corner that was a housefly super-highway. (bless Praline's little fly-eating heart!) I bought these on the 1 year no interest store credit card, but I'm going to pay this round off with all my overtime earnings, and I'm hoping to get the remainder of the house windows done in about 2 months. Thank goodness for overtime in the summer. I will be seriously eyeballing each window before it goes in, though. Fo sho.

Overall, I'm very happy, but these little hiccups are a little disheartening. I suppose this is to be expected, a bit, perhaps?

Squeee!

The first batch of new winders is in. The old windows were not terribly old, but they were terribly cheap. Aluminum. Single pane. These are heavy vinyl with low-e rating. The house feels cooler already. The new window is the one on top, btw.











- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I spit on your groove: a public service announcement.

I like to think I'm open-minded. A lid for every pot, and all that. I like a pretty broad stripe of music, and I can see going off on nearly any tangent thereof, but the appeal of some music baffles me endlessly.

I have a customer with whom the transaction should be completed in the next 48 hours and that's 49 hours too many. She _never_ answers her phone and the answer tone is some of the most assinine disco dross I've ever heard-- and that's really saying something. I don't know what it is and I don't want to know what it is. I only want to forget. Suffice to say it makes Tarzan Boy sound like bloody Beethoven.

Dum. dum. dum. Really? Your answer tone? Something that announces to people who they will be dealing with should, well, it should make a statement. By statement, I mean it should suggest something other than a mad hands-and-knees scramble across the floor of a disco for your stray bottle of poppers. I'm just saying.

Oh, and Kenny G as answer tone? Please, I beseech you, please don't? Just stop, in the name of love.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blogging.

more adorable gadget-girlie music

Wildfire.

It's been about 110 every day lately here, and the winds have been brutal, so stepping out of the front door feels like stepping into a hair dryer.

Driving home from Dallas yesterday I had to take a long detour around a 10,000 acre blaze that wasn't burning when I went through the day before.

(sorry about the yellow piece of furniture reflecting in the car window)

Normally, grasses in this part of the country would still be moderately green at this point and not such a burn hazard, but this year, we had our first 110 degree day in early May. Very little rain to speak of, and the earth is sere and parched, and add the winds and a stray spark and this whole place has the makings of a tinderbox.

Driving my detour through the rugged, rolling country side, I passed scores of little farmsteads, steers munching numbly on the hay with the wildfires in the distance.

Even in Fort Worth Sunday, I saw big charred patches along roadways in the city.

This bodes ill for the summer...

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: best seat in the house

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

...and in keeping with the arty, steampunk theme...

I posted an Emilie Simon song not long ago, but I also love her Bedford Avenue Sessions on YouTube.

She has this fabulous gadget gauntlet with synthesizer and drum buttons. I love the broad, free-wheeling range of her vocals (evocative of the fearless growling and sweet cajoling of Kate Bush) and her way of weaving sound textures with electronics. Then there's her mode of dress -- each session, she's wearing a spangly something she must have found in a thrift store, but these frocks never looked more fresh or spiff, I'll bet.


Super-cute! Love her.

LOVE LOVE LOVE Thomas Mann

I have long been a fan of jewelry from the studio of Thomas Mann. I have several pair of his earrings including the pair in the big picture with the hearts and brass plumb bob thingies(they are WONDERFUL), and he does incredible work with rivets and metal/media assemblage. Very charming indeed. Very steampunky. He calls his style techno-romantic. I like that. It fits.

This is pricier than a lot of costume jewelry, it's true, but these are little masterpieces with a lovely feel in the hand. They are artwear, and they have a timeless charm, imho. The moving bits inside and many-layered treasures are evocative of the joys of finding a pearl in an oyster. Lovely gifts for your friends. Or for yourself!

this post brought to you by the dogs of others:

I'm in that mid-week fog of too-many hours worked and not enough slept. Today's post features a gorgeous little Shiba-inu who is quite the vocal little fellow.

CUTE!



I especially love his satisfied little chortle at the end. What an adorable doggy. This video always makes me smile.

View from my porch on Tuesday night

storms! Yay!

Water! From the sky!


Firepot on the porch. Feet up with cold beer in hand.
Life is sweet. :)

Reno update: bathroom progress report

So, as have whinged on previously, I thought the bathroom here was beastly. It had paneling which I'm sure could have been much, much worse, but this paneling grated on my nerves something fierce. Cliched though it may be, I decided to go with basic white, for a change. There are some things in this bathroom which still drive me 'round the bend, but bit by bit they are being addressed.



Pet peeve: the paneling is of a cheap variety with photo-copied on woodgrain. It looked almost pixelated. ew. The color was not ugly, and as paneling goes, it could have been much, much worse. I still grew tired of it quite quickly. Solution: paint! Well, Zinsser, and then paint!

Then it's about that cheap, ugly-assed light fixture over the sink. MAJOR pet peeve. My ex boss used to put these in all the lofts because it was the absolutely cheapest thing on the market. Ugly. Home-made sin looks like a beauty queen next to this hideous fixture. Still, this bit of beastliness is still in the bathroom. Pick yer battles, ya know? One day, I'll get an electrical guy in here, and then this fixture will be going to the range with me for a ritual killing. Therapy!

Pet peeve: recessed medicine cabinet mounted on the exterior of wall, all sticky-outy and the lights were behind the front edge, so if you leaned close to the mirror, your face was in the dark. Poor planning. Solution: bye-bye, ugly cabinet! Hello sleek new mirror.





So, there's lots more to do in here, but at least it's moving along. This house is full of things that are varying degrees of undesireable. As I said, it's coming along bit by bit. Baby steps, and all that. :) For now, though, the white looks SOOOO much better, and baths are more soothing in this room now. :)

Excuse the dirty floor but...

I just had to show you this photo. The pups love to sack out on the floor next to my work chair.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: bath time!

Book? Check.
Nerd Beer? Check.
Fizzy bath stuff? Check.
Devoted friend to stand guard? Check.






- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

A stately march through immaculate cloisters...

I am missing music.
Music is in my head, always, always has been, but I miss making music. I miss mine wending through a forest of voices, gossamer contrary lines weaving a tapestry of sound that is at once memorable, elusive and always dazzling. I really need to find someone to sing with.

For now, though, the music of others will suffice. I loved singing the music of Henry Purcell, and though this is not a vocal piece, I find this rendering of his Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary to be utterly bewitching.

Five instruments alone, and yet there is such breadth of sound and energy as to delight one. Hear the initial exposition of the mournful tune, then once-more-with-feeling more pronounced rancor at the grief, the outrage of loss. I love that some music is simply too good for words. That won't stop me rattling on, of course.

Suffice to say I love this so hard:



Baroque Brass of London
Mark Bennet (Flatt Trumpet)
Crispian Steele-Perkins (Slide Trumpet)
Michael Laird (Slide Trumpet)
Ron Bryans (Sackbut)
Robert Howes (Percussion)

It has come to this:

Yes, a post about my toilet paper dispenser.

Remember when $30 was what you'd pay for a whole set of bathroom accessories, including towel bar, handtowel holder and toilet paper dispenser?

Well, I chose the lot based on finally the only toilet paper holder that has ever made sense to me.

Picture yourself, half-dead with a feverish flu. You go potty, and the TP gods chuckle as your sick ass fumbles to change the roll on the dispenser. You're not miserable enough, when the springloaded bar goes flying through your fingers and skitters off across to the far reaches of the bathroom. Yes, the TP gods are laughing at you. You're sick. You don't feel like bending over because then your sinuses will flood another part and you'll be even less able to breathe, and who wants that? You peel what you need off the roll, plop said roll on the back of the toilet and shuffle back to bed.

A month or two later, you'll find the springload bar and put it back together and try to remember when it was you didn't replace it like normal.

Anyway, no more of that for me. Yes, I spent $30 on just the TP roll holder and I'm glad I did. This design by Kohler* ushers in a vibrant, sensible age for toilet paper accessories, something that has been begging to be invented since someone first squoze the Charmin. The left side of the holder is a lever, the right side being stationary and just the two pieces, nothing to fumble or drop. It's oh-so-very civilized.

This is not what I would have envisioned for the bathroom. It's better.

*label-whore moment!

Milling through the grinder. Grinding through the mill.

I'm SOOOO glad I took time to kick up my heels this past weekend. It's 1:03AM and I just did a few extra hours since 10:00 PM. I thought I could pop in for about an hour and get some paperwork done without the phones ringing, and I was right. The OCD part of me, though, doesn't like to pinch it off, but prefers to grind through all of it and leave nothing undone. Silly me- mine is a Sisyphean task if ever there was one. Knock one of them down, and another sets itself up. 12 hour days this summer will be the norm, and not the exception.

Speaking of repetition into maddening dullness, I'm getting cussed out a lot lately. A soft answer may turn away wrath, but I find it's more pissy-offy for the more irrational ranters, so I'm way more prone to not rise to the occasion. My favorite is "yes, sir. You've already said that." I'm a pleaser. I love making people happy, and I take a lot of pride in a job well done. Some people, though, have issues, either with expectations or a basic lack of grasp of how things work in the big scary world.

I can only do my job. I can't fix their heads. Besides-- I just did 3 hours of overtime by choice. I have issues of my own, clearly.

Phlegmfest June 2011: The Spankening.

Yes, you read that correctly. Himself and I hosted the gathering of The Tribe at my place last weekend, and this one was my favorite so far. There were some dear folk who would have improved the occasion but couldn't make it, but the rest of us soldiered on and did enough R&R for our number tenfold.

As happens when you get this many sexy, adorable women together, there was a fair bit of grab-butt played, mostly between said sexy, adorable women. Several of them synchronized for an attack on me while I was mid sentence, but I didn't miss a beat, finished my utterance and declared "I've been gang-spanked!"

The esteemed attendees, in no particular order, were: Ambulance Driver and Katy Beth, Sci-Fi and lovely wife; Atomic Nerds, Christina, Jennifer and Evyl Robot; Mulligan and Pa and girlfriend; JPG and Holly(birthday girl!); Matt G; NcongruNt; FarmGirl, FarmMom and FarmDad; Spear; Old NFO; Tolewyn; Chris ex Machina. If I left anyone off, please kick me and I'll correct this. I'm still wiped out and not thinking entirely clearly.

I swear I saw a tear sparkling in Ambulance Driver's eye as Katy Beth proudly showed him her first tramp stamp (which I assured her will come off with baby oil, or good, clean living). I know it was an emotional time for him.

I cooked my first brisket, and I think it turned out quite well, but next time I'll do more like 20 lbs rather than 12.5. Thanks to Old NFO for KP on the roaster, and thanks to the lovely bevy of Kitchen Bitches who left my kitchen SOOO much cleaner than it was when you all arrived. :) FarmMom made some toe-curling tater salad, and that was wonderful. The well made a fabulous drink repository with the kiddie pool liner. The Nerd Beer was fabulous. Jennifer's lumpia were delectable. Mulligan's lady's sopapilla cheesecake was decadent as was Mulligan's cheese dip. The whole weekend was chock-full of grand times, good food and great guns.

Did I mention there were guns? Evyl's holsters are marvelous, and one lovely soul bequeathed a proper pistol upon me which will be my carry gun forthwith. I'm planning Evyl to make me a shoulder holster for that one. Yee haw!

The folks who arrived early set to helping get last minute spruce-ups done. Old NFO suggested we need to have a bigger, construction-style task ready and just use the gang while they are in town. I'm thinking I could do a barn-raisin', a la Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, replete with technicolor wardrobe, yeah? I call dibs on the redheaded brute, though, ladies.

It's such a privilege to have such lovely, wonderful people as friends. Family, actually. I consider you Family, and that's the highest compliment I can pay you. From the first guests to arrive to the last ones we grudgingly bid adieu at about 1:00AM Monday, the entire weekend was grand and I can't say enough how honored I was to have you all as guests, and I hope to see you all again very soon.
Cheers, m'dears!!!

PhlegmPhest 2011

*insert throat clearing sound here*

Yes, Christina dubbed it PhlegmPhest so that's what we'll call it. Himself and I had a spectacular time this weekend. I'll try to write more later today, but I'm plumb tuckered out.

I have to say it's lovely to have people come over, to cook for them all weekend and yet, as if by magic, when they leave, your kitchen is cleaner than when they all arrived.

I'm grinning to myself about what a nice bunch of folks our friends are.
Cheers, m'dears!

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Iz napping so hard...

Puppies are worn out after three days of company.





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Party time

I had a grand time and loads of lovely guests. More later. I am very richly blessed in friends.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Little did I know...

That old well in the back yard with a kiddie pool is the perfect place for cooling drinks and melons.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

plumb tuckered out...

...but in a good way. I have a brisket to cook and lots of friends in town and more on their way. Will try to get a post up later today, but no promises. Cheers, m'dears!

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine...

...if it's not 110 degrees.

Thursday night was lovely, actually. I hope for more of the same. :)

Type O Negative's version of Summer Breeze always makes me think of the summer I lived next to the really hot, tattooed exotic dancer and her big, beefy construction worker husband. She and I hung out together all summer, and her little baby would fuss at nap time until mommy put on this album.


Good stuff!

Un-engineering.

Okay. The bathroom used to be this beastly blonde paneling that, while possibly less hideous than others, offended me with its very photocopiedness. *shudder* So I proceeded to make a sow's ear out of a pig's ear by painting it all white. Partway through the task, I found that something about the Zinsser primer made my favorite spongey brushes shed little beardy fibers in the paint, so the surface is not entirely smooth. The walls there, although clean and white, are downright whiskery. Oh well, we already knew this was not a rose.

Anyhoo, another vexing bit was the places where someone did a spectacularly crap job of cutting out openings for electrical outlets, etc. The first photo, you can see at the bottom where I sort of spooged in caulk to fill in the gap between the paneling and the edge of the switchplate which formerly just showed the wall's innards.


I was at a glass place Wednesday to pick up a pane to temporarily cover the window I broke out (don't ask - I have my questionable moments), when I saw this mirror switchplate and quickly thought it might do for my bathroom. I also could tell it was rather wider and taller than the typical switchplate, so it seemed just the thing.

I figured since people seem to enjoy looking at themselves, the mirrored bits will make the rest of the bathroom look ever so much better to guests. That's my theory, anyway!

Goodness. I should tidy up my hair before photos.

I really, really, RILLY love this tattoo:

From my favorite Christmas movie Die Hard.



h/t to Everyday, No Days Off