I’m Getting High on Behr™ Semi-gloss in Willow Herb.

by Camille Posted on May 28, 2009

This trip has been utterly exhausting—I don’t remember the last time I felt well-rested.

Oh wait, yes I do: Grand Cayman.

Well-rested on Cayman IslandsAhhh…those were the days.

According to my calculations, we returned to Mesa exactly three weeks ago today.  It seems like three years.  Was it really not even a month ago that I was walking on the beach barefoot, totally carefree except for the thought of ultraviolet rays and sand crabs?  Impossible!

And here I am, completely sore from the cartilage in my ears to the tendons in my ankles—my body aches in a way it hasn’t ached since the last time I tried to do something this ridiculous in only six days.  That must be my problem—I really do enjoy thrifting and painting and decorating and sewing; just not on a time-restrictive schedule.  I seem to make my own emergencies, though.  If I would just give myself enough time, I wouldn’t feel so rushed at the end.  Silly me.

Today is the day we will see the fruits of our labours—the table and chairs are going to be amazing, the window treatments should (cross fingers!) be hung and lovely, and with any luck, we’ll start the fun stuff—pictures on walls.

But for now, the worst thing I could be doing is not sleeping.  I must apologise for my absence on the Internet scene for the past (and next) few days.  I barely have made time to update my own blog, and I won’t be reading many others until this project is finished.  Also, I have a slew of emails to respond to, and I will—I promise.  I appreciate all the insightful comments on my Bristol Palin Sex Talk post, and intend to address them as soon as I can clear room in my mind, aside from the smell of Behr™ semi-gloss latex paint in Harmonic Tan, Tobacco Road, and Willow Herb.  Oy vey.

Posted in quickies, what a nightmare, woe is me | Tagged | 9 Comments

Half-Baked.

by Camille Posted on May 27, 2009

Despite the fact that I’ve been painting so much for the past three days that I haven’t even had the time to shower, and I’m really starting to smell…my sister and I haven’t seen much progress in the kitchen project.  Most of our weekend was spent scavenging for good deals, and we’ve been painting those cussed deals ever since.  Not one item of painted furniture is 100% complete, so that means there’s no 100% sign of progress anywhere, as far as the eye can see.  We feel like utter failures.

We aren’t close enough to being done with the kitchen/dining room makeover for me to show you true before-and-after shots, but I can offer some before-and-during images.  I have to do something to prove that some (if even very little) progress has been made:

Blank Wall Before:

Blank Wall Before

Blank Wall During:

Blank Wall During

$5 Wooden Craigslist Chair Before:

$5 Wooden Craigslist Chair Before(Image from Craigslist.)

$5 Craigslist Chair During

Pre-owned Kitchen Table Before:

Pre-owned Kitchen Table Before

Pre-owned Kitchen Table During:

Pre-owned Kitchen Table During

Kitchen Stools Before:

Kitchen Stools Before

Kitchen Stools During:

Kitchen Stools During

These are just a few of the projects we’ve undertaken (and haven’t finished).  As you can see, we have a LOT left to do; inasmuch as I am leaving Friday, I had better stop chatting away!  There’s work to be done.

Stay tuned for (hopefully) some real progress tomorrow.

Posted in change, failures, mediocrity, quickies, what a nightmare | Tagged , | 12 Comments

The Bristol Palin Sex Talk

by Camille Posted on May 26, 2009

bristol_palinImage from here.

Bristol Palin, 18 year-old daughter of Alaska Governor Sarah Palin, recently told People Magazine that “if girls realized the consequences of sex, nobody would be having sex…  Nobody.”

Umm…duh?  No kidding, Bristol.  That’s what sex ed is all about; maybe you missed that day of science class in fifth grade…and sixth…and seventh, eighth, ninth, and so on.  Please—you can’t possibly be pleading ignorance.  I know Alaska is far away, but it’s no further than Canada, and the Canadians got the memo that unprotected sex has nasty side effects—why didn’t you?

So now, five months after giving birth to her baby boy, Trapp, Bristol has become an Abstinence Ambassador slash Spokeswoman (spokesgirl is more like it) for the Candies Foundation, whose primary goal it is to amp up awareness of avoiding teen pregnancy.  Which is great and all, except for the fact that Bristol already had a baby.

Candies Foundation Bristol PalinImage from here.

“If girls realized the consequences of sex, nobody would be having sex…  Nobody.”  How would you like to be the infamous baby whose mother publicly announced to audiences across the world that she wishes she had never had sex in the first place?

I have been an advocate of abstinence before (and sometimes after!) marriage all my life, and to those who say complete monogamous (i.e. one partner) abstinence is an “unrealistic ideal,” I say, “foolish.”  How hard is it?  Keep your dadgum pants on if you don’t want to get pregnant and don’t want sexually transmitted infections and don’t want a lifetime of potential complications.  Just keep your pants on.  See?  Easy.  Just keep your pants on.

Well, since Bristol Palin apparently thinks that any girl who realises the complications of sex would never have sex in the first place, I am hereby taking it upon myself to raise awareness of the great many complications of sex (primarily sex outside a monogamous relationship).

The Complications of Sleeping Around

1.  Pain. Did you know that sex is—or can be—incredibly painful?  True.  It’s a very real problem for a lot of women.

2.  Sex can lead to diseases {though the politically correct word is “infections,”}  in one’s nether-regions.  There are a myriad of different sexually transmitted diseases on the market (makes it sound like car shopping, eh?), ranging from mildly annoying, to grossly disgusting, and all the way to life-threatening.  And if it might hurt anyway (see #1), is it really worth the risk?  As a teenage girl, nothing could have compelled me to have sex.  (I won’t lie and say I had guys knocking my door down to lie with me—I didn’t even kiss a boy until I was nearly 18.  Even still, I was terrified of the painful side effects of sex.  I still am.  {Just kidding.  [Maybe.]})

3.  Sex can often lead to pregnancy. Pregnancy can often lead to babies.  Babies born to young, uneducated mothers with little or no support have a higher rate of living in poverty than babies born to mothers who are more mature and educated.  In other words, a teenage girl who might solve her problems by screaming and slamming doors (I know I did) can be in for a huge shock when that cuddly little baby screams right back, with ten times the volume and ten times the persistence.  Just ask Bristol, who missed her prom to stay home and change diapers.  Oy.

Those are just three of the most physical, tangible consequences of sex before maturity; it’s not even mentioning the various emotional and psychological wounds that could take years to heal.  I am an avid supporter of abstinence, but I realise not everybody thinks the same way I do (and wouldn’t the world be scary if everybody thought exactly like me?).  If you don’t subscribe to the notion of abstinence, please at least practise safe sex and keep yourself protected.  (But if you’re a teenage girl reading this, heed my advice and just wait.  It’s a much better idea.  Really.)

There.  Now you can’t say nobody told you.

Posted in do what I say, in all seriousness, what I'm about | Tagged , , | 38 Comments

How to Find Deals at Yard Sales/Garage Sales/Moving Sales/Rummage Sales

by Camille Posted on May 25, 2009

My sister and I are on a quest to revamp my parents’ kitchen/dining room/great room.  We’re doing it (our decorating part, at least), on a $500 budget, so a lot of things—okay, pretty much every thing—we’ve sourced has come from a yard sale or thrift store or Craigslist.  We spent over 12 hours a day on both Friday and Saturday scavenging for good deals.  We’ve learned a lot of things about how to shop the yard sales, and since my blog would not be my blog if I withheld good things from you, I will share my tips here.  Today.  Now.

How to Scrounge Up Amazing Deals at Yard Sales, etc.

1.  Prepare your money ahead of time. Take a canister of change for small knick-knack purchases, $1 bills for medium purchases (anything between $1-$15 qualifies as a mid-range purchase), and $20 bills for larger buys (like furniture and large appliances).

Coin BagThis bag of coins used to be full to the brim.  The fact that it’s nearing empty speaks volumes of our weekend—it means we got loads of good deals and plenty of DDPs from QT.

It is much easier to haggle if you can hand the sellers exact change—haggling, say, a clock down from $10 to $5 looks a little ridiculous when you hand over a $20 bill.  Take a variety of cash.

2.  Haggle. I never accept the initial price at yard sales.  So many people are afraid to haggle because it’s such an awful word—it sounds very hag-ish.  But I tell you this: people who haggle are not hags.  They are brilliant.  Even if you only ask for a dollar less than the asking price, you can almost always get a better deal.  Why not get more for your money?  If you are the shy type who is afraid to negotiate, remember this: you are doing these people a favour by taking their old junk off their hands.  They are probably happy to get ANY money for it, since whatever’s leftover will likely go to Goodwill.  The worst they can do is say no, in which case you either decide how badly you want the item—if you want it so bad your teeth hurt, offer more.  If you could walk away and never give it another thought, do that.  (It also helps to ask in your sweetest, most non-argumentative voice.  Being too aggressive makes people feel defensive, as if you think there’s no way their stuff is POSSIBLY worth what they’re asking.  You never want to make sellers feel this way, or else you’re doomed.  Be sweet.)

3.  If at all possible, take a GPS. We had two days of solid yard-saleing joy, thanks to our Garmin Nuvi Some Big Number GPS. With a GPS, you can set in an address of a sale posted on Craigslist, and work your way there via any sale signs you see along the way.

Garmin NuviMeet Tips, the GPS who has saved our hides on more than one occasion.  We heart Tips.

With a GPS, you can remain on a general course without getting lost by all the confusing detours.  It is very time-effective.  Borrow a friend’s if you don’t have one, or maybe just invest in a cheap one if you’re a frequent finder (of deals, that is).

4.  Go with a friend. Even if it means you’ll probably want to kill each other by the end of the day (or maybe that’s just me and my sister when we get hungry…), it really helps to have another set of eyes watching for signs.

Seven Dollar BasketsEven if your friend refuses to post for a decent picture, you’re still likely to have good times.

Also, between the two of us, my sister and I were able to mostly avoid hitting up the same sales twice (sounds sill, but it can get kind of confusing in Phoenix neighborhoods).  Two is better than one.  Just make sure the friend won’t steal your deals—it’s best to be working on a similar project together, so all the good finds contribute to the greater good.

5.  Take provisions. No matter where you live, this means some sort of snack—you never know if a sale is going to offer treats as part of their wares, so it’s best to be prepared.  Also, the fact that you’re shopping yard sales likely indicates a margin of frugality in your life, and we all know it’s cheaper to eat from home rather than from Taco Bell™ (there’s a time and a place for Taco Bell™, though, and for me, it’s any time, anywhere; but I digress).  If you live in Arizona, “provisions” could also mean extra sunscreen and water bottles—two things you should never leave home without anyway.

So there you have it—five of the best things you can do for yourself to become a deal-finding fiend.

And now, the deal reveal you’ve all been waiting for…

Yard Sale DealsBlack pedestal with glass dome cover (not pictured): free.  Pile of baskets: $3.00.

Live Laugh Love SignLive Laugh Love Sign: $10.00 (to be painted over {“Live Laugh Love” is a fine sentiment, but I’m not a fan of the colour}).  Sturdy wire basket: $1.00.

Skinny Pedastal TableSkinny wooden pedestal table, reminiscent of my two favourite Goodwill™ finds back in Canada: $5.00.

Rabbit HutchRabbit Hutch: $60.00.  (Just kidding, we didn’t buy this Craigslist find, but we did go look at it.  And seriously considered it.  It does have a sort of charm of its own, don’t you think?)

And now, for the absolute biggest steal of the entire weekend…the steal of a deal my mind can’t stop thinking about…the one thing I’m desperate to take back to Canada with me instead of leaving behind for my dear mother…

Sofa ChairDecrepit old sofa chair with dog hair and chewed off knobs and tattered fabric and missing caning…$1.00.  ONE dollar.  The poor schmucks were giggling when we offered real money for it—they were planning to take it to Goodwill™ when nobody bought it from their yard sale.

One Dollar Yard Sale SofaI just love it when other people don’t see the potential that I do.  Even if it costs $100.00 to get this sofa/chair recovered, it would still be a smoking deal.

Yard Sale FindSuckers.

I know The Nester and her friend had some enormous success a few weeks ago; what about you?  Anyone else find something great last weekend?  Or are you planning to go this weekend?  I can’t wait to get back to Canada to do some thrifting of my own…

Posted in do what I say, family, Overall Good Things, the great state of AZ | 11 Comments

Garage Sales. All Day

by Camille Posted on May 22, 2009

We’re off like a shirt on a hot summer day.

I’m going yard saleing in 65 degree Mesa, Arizona weather.  (It’s a freak accident that it’s 65 degreees right now, but I’ll take it!)  My sister and I are on a quest for all things amazing—and cheap—for my mom’s mothers’ day gift.

Stay tuned for updates of great finds.  It’s gonna be good.

Posted in Uncategorized | 9 Comments

R.I.P. Sampson {Underappreciated Family Dog}

by Camille Posted on May 21, 2009

***Posted in conjuction with Sprite’s Keeper’s Spin Cycle, the subject of which, this week, is pets.  Swing by this post for more of the most pettingly pet stories on the internet.***

Sampson was our one—and only—family pet.  {We know the biblical Samson’s name is spelled sans “p,” but our dog just…needed a “p” in his name.  Silent letters are the best.}  He was some sort of black lab mutt with no papers or notable lineage to our knowledge.  He was nothing fancy.  We were gifted him by some distant family member who moved out of state or something—he was two years old when he arrived at our place.

black-lab-mix, a stand-in for SampsonThis isn’t Sampson. I don’t have any photos of our family pet, and I never thought that he was all that unique, but I just googled™ “black lab mix,” and none of the image results looked quite right.  I should have taken pictures when I had the chance.  Image from here.

At first, my sister and I were off-the-walls excited to have a dog.  We promised our dad we would feed him, and walk him, and play with him, and wash him…and of course, that promise went the way of all empty childhood vows (right down the crapper with every other lofty ideal).

See, he wasn’t a frolicking puppy when we received him—he was huge, and didn’t mind his manners.  He jumped on us, knocking us over; to make matters worse, he couldn’t do a single trick.  Lame.  To our childhood minds, he was a total dud.

Hyper CamilleI was the hyper sort of child that needed animals to do tricks for me if they were to earn my affection.  Poor Sampson never really stood a chance.

At least, that’s what we thought for a few years, until one day he became a hero to us.  Our house was broken into, and Sampson scared the burglars off lickety split.  Oh, sure, we were terrified to sleep at night for months afterward, but we felt a little bit safer knowing that Sampson was watching over us.

Sampson hated men (except for my dad, who was the one who cared for Sampson the most), and he was mean about it.  Burglars learned quickly, and we never had problems with them again.

Unfortunately for Sampson, the next ten years saw a decrease in neighborhood burglaries, and his heroism (at least in my immature mind) became virtually forgotten.  He returned to being the pesky animal who never wanted to go outside (can’t say as I blame him, in this Arizona heat).  Any chance he got, he’d squeeze through the door and take off, and it was always my job to chase him down.  He wasn’t easy to catch.  I remember thinking in ninth grade (grade nine, Canadians!) that he was getting old—his days were numbered.

But still, he lived.  A few months later, he got hit by a car on one of his escapades {the night of my sister’s junior year homecoming date, if I do recall correctly [I always recall correctly]}.  I was floored when my parents actually forked out the thousands of dollars to nurse him back to health.

Hard-boiled Teenager “I would never blow my money on a stupid dog,” I thought that day.  “He just had to go cavorting through the neighborhood—it serves him right.” I was coarse, even as a teenager.

It would be another six years before Sampson really died.  The end was rough for him, and me.  During the course of his life, we had added on to our house, and a new concrete patio was poured right outside my bedroom window.  I grew to recognise the munch-munch-crunch sound of Sampson having a midnight snack only a few feet (and a wall) away from me.  I never acknowledged how secure his crunching made me feel each night as I drifted off to sleep.  Living in the room closest to Sampson’s food bowl really did make me the most protected member of my family.

As Sampson’s health dwindled away to nothing, I would lay awake at night listening to his mournful whimpers.  Over time, the whimpers became heart-wrenching yelps, as Sampson became physically unable to step up the three-inch ledge from the lawn to the porch.  I couldn’t stand it.  Every night for a week, I’d go outside and help him up to the step.  He was heavy, and the action exhausted both of us.  While I was outside, he’d rest his head, with age-grayed whiskers, feebly in my lap.  We’d sit there for a long time, Sampson and me.  I just petted his fur and patted his head; tears streamed down my face as I chastised myself for a lifetime of basically ignoring the family pet who always loved me anyway.  My beloved grandpa had died earlier that year, I was planning a wedding that would take me hundreds of miles away from the only place I’d ever called home, and Sampson was dying in my arms.

So SadIt was a really emotional year for me.  And by “really emotional,” I mean the fact that I started birth control that same year really didn’t help things. Hello, hormones, come right in; won’t you stay a while?

The day we put him to sleep, I could hardly believe how much I cared.  When had I grown so soft?  It wasn’t like me.  That dadgum dog turned me into a sap, and I don’t even like dogs.  I vowed, that very night, that I would never get attached to another animal—I’d save my love for humans in the hope that I’d never again have to hurt so bad for a creature that couldn’t even say goodbye to me.

And then I mourned.  I mourned good and hard.  It’s embarrassing to confess this on my blog—the hard boiled side of me knows it’s ridiculous to care so much.  I didn’t even really love him until those last pathetic months—well, that’s not true.  I loved him all along, but I didn’t show it until it was pretty much too late.

If all dogs really do go to Heaven, I’d very much like to see Sampson (providing I make it there myself {which is unlikely, the way I treated the poor old fella all his life}).  I need to make amends.

Posted in failures, looking back, sad things, self-actualisation, spin cycle | Tagged , , | 14 Comments

Blank Walls Have So Much Potential

by Camille Posted on May 20, 2009

I don’t know anyone in the world who doesn’t appreciate a good before-and-after.  It doesn’t even matter what, exactly, is being made over, as long as people can see adequate Before shots and successful After shots.

Blank WallRight now, it’s a blank wall.  Soon, it will be a work of art.  I hope.

It must have something to do with the psychological effects of instant gratification…instant facelifts.  Never mind the fact that hundreds of dollars/hours generally go into room or personal makeovers…a five minute before-and-after recap makes people believe that positive changes are easy and painless.

Before-and-after photos make me happy.  Ugly Before?  Beautiful After.  Done.  Have a nice day.  I will, thanks.  You too.

Because I so appreciate a good before-and-after, I will not tease you with all the before shots of a room makeover my sister and I are doing for our mom’s Mothers’ Day gift.  This project is the main reason I’m staying in Mesa for another week before heading back to Canada.  It’s going to be amazing.

My parents added on to our house when I was a junior in high school (grade 11, Canadians!).  The addition turned out beautifully—it doubled the size of their kitchen and added a “great room” that has hosted many a family party since then.  Despite the fact that it turned out well, we never really added the “finishing touches” that it deserved.  It got blinds, but no curtains.  It got paint, but sparse wall hangings.  It got french doors, but random furniture.  We’ve really been meaning to finish it off for years—nothing’s stopped us but lack of time/energy/motivation—but this is the week it’s finally happening.  My sister and I have a plan.  It’s going to be good.

We are in the midst of it now, having hired out our favourite contractor to do crown molding and thick baseboards, plus a wee bit of wainscoting around the bar area (for charm, of course).  The painters (We got to hire some!  As in, not us!  As in, score!) came and caulked this afternoon and are due back tomorrow to start the ceiling (I’m sorry, but I just need to say it one more time: Score!).  The whole room should be ready to go just in time for my brother-in-law to take charge of his kid for the weekend, leaving my sister and I with nothing but time.  It’s going to be excellent.

Once it’s all done, I’ll do a solid before-and-after post.  Until then, I hope these mid-process photos will tide you over…

Dining Room Remodel1We aren’t touching the actual kitchen part—the cupboards and counter tops will stay the same (they’re brand new with the addition).

Dining Room Makeover2I spy wainscoting.  Charming.  Those stools will be black.

Dining Room Makeover3My sister made that ribbon memory board, but it’s time to make a few changes to it.  Plus, it looks so lonely there (as does the overstuffed chair).  This wall is my biggest worry.

Dining Room Makeover4I’d like to paint that chunk of cabinets to make them look like a separate piece of furniture, but my mom would never go for it.

Dining Room Makeover6That wall has been blank all its life, save for a brief period when it hosted my brick-red hutch, glimpsed here (which I found through Craigslist right before my wedding for a total of $120.00, and subsequently took to Canada when I moved away).  Since that month, I’ve always envisioned another hutch against that wall, but my sister is thinking more along the lines of shelf+bench.  She’ll probably win, because she’s the good daughter.  Also, we’re painting that table.  And my dream is to find eight mismatched chairs and paint them all the same colour, for a very vintage look.  We’ll see…

Anyway, if you’re the type of person who hates home-y DIY projects, Archives of Our Lives is going to be very bad for your chi this week.  Just warning.

Posted in change, design | Tagged , , , , | 24 Comments