Under Construction

My house that is. Hubby has been spending every spare minute working on this project. We are turning two rooms in our 2nd level basement (there is a level below this for storage) into one big family room. We took out a load-bearing wall and are creating this space for toys, t.v. and a cool place to retreat to. Once this project is complete, the current livingroom will become a place I can dust and vaccuum and yell at the kids for going into. Excellent. I need another reason to yell at those kids.

The walls are chocolate brown on the bottom half of the walls, then there is a kick ass cream coloured ledge all the way around the room, and above the ledge is a caramel colour. I’m gaining weight daily from looking at these walls, but yelling burns calories, right?

I’m thinking of leaving those beer bottles there. Hubby drinks Labatt 50. I can’t believe I just admitted that to the internet. For those of you who don’t know what Labatt 50 is, it is “old man beer.” People stare at you if you order it in the beer store. Many a time, beer store cashiers have asked me to speak up when I go get his beer, which is rare.

One time (at band camp) I was up north, middle of a sweltering day, getting beer for a party at my cousin’s place. The line was out the door and everyone was sweaty, but jovial, talking and joking in this friendly town beer store. My cousin was with me, and my stomach was churning about having to order 50 in such a crowded beer store. I was embarrassed while I was still in line, behind 10 burly guys in redneck gear. (Yes, we have rednecks in Canada too). I get up to the cash, and I know the talking and laughing of these men is loud, so I figure I’m okay. I order it, and like in McDonalds, the cashier relays my order into THE MICROPHONE. I die a little inside, as the entire store gets quiet. “It’s for my husband,” I say meekly to the crowd. Someone says, “Little lady musta married herself a sugar-daddy eh?”

Daren is 37, but I keep telling him he is going to have to break out the Oil of Olay and the Depends if he keeps drinking this shit.

Since I grew up in apartments, owning a house has been an educational experience for me. These little do-dads separate tiles while you’re laying them so they are even. Aren’t they freaking adorable? If I was a scrapbooking type of gal, I would use these in every project. I even popped a couple in my mouth out of sheer excitement. Hey, I grew up poor, we didn’t have money for cute little plus signs, okay? Back off.

Look how fast Daren can work….(more like look how blurry Karen can take a picture….my camera and I are still in the ‘getting to know you stage, what can I say?) If I told you I meant to take this picture, you’d be impressed. Okay, I meant to take this picture. No, really.

The carpet people called yesterday to tell me that the measuring guy will be calling me. Um, okay, you’re calling me to tell me one of your own will be calling me? Mmmkay thanks. I’ll be sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for it.

Honestly, I have butterflies that this big family space is going to be done very soon. We are outgrowing the whole, “living in half a house” concept. I need room to yell at my kids. How did my mom ever manage yelling in just an apartment?