My mother-in-law once told me that she never considered divorcing my father-in-law until they renovated their home. She also commented that she would never (ever, ever) go through another renovation, even if she had to live in a hovel without one. I thought she was exaggerating until we recently renovated our master bathroom.
We had already taken out the garden tub, leaving part of the floor missing with many small holes and exposed pipes and wall. We wanted to replace the tub with a walk-in shower. Sounds simple enough, right?
We arranged for a contractor who would come in and start work when the shower arrived at the plumbing shop. We ordered the shower in June with expected delivery to be by mid-August. Mid-August arrived and gave way to the end of the month. We called the plumbing store. “It should be a couple more weeks.” September arrived and the shower was “on the next truck from the supplier.” By the end of September, I was getting pretty hot—our bathroom had been torn up for over three months. Finally, hubby dropped in the shop in October. The salesman went into the storeroom and there it was! Not where he expected it to be, he explained. Who knows how long it had been sitting back there?
We called the contractor to say the shower would be delivered the 
next week. No return call. We called again, leaving messages. We texted. Finally, because we had been given the contractor’s name by the plumbing company, we called them and asked that if they had contact with him to please ask him to call us. The plumbing company called back and said that the guy had another job and couldn’t do ours. Fortunately, they gave us another name and he worked with us. There were some other quirks and blips in the installation process, but at long last, by the end of October we had our shower. And it’s beautiful and wonderful. Having it is akin to giving birth in that all the pain of getting it here and installed is forgotten now that it’s over. Maybe all renovations are like that…?
What is your experience with renovations?
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Burning Bridges by Anne Krist: old letters put the lie to Sara’s life. Now, mending her past mistakes while crossing burning bridges will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.
I have a confession to make. I am old enough to remember when most people received news through…what were those things? Oh yeah, Newspapers. Most also watched the evening news on television at six o’clock, but newspapers delivered national and local news in one place and in more depth. My parents used to read every page of the daily papers. I was more receptive to television. One thing is certain, where people get their news has changed dramatically over the years.
her iPhone and I thought she was crazy. Who could enjoy reading anything in depth on that little screen? Well, I’ve found out. I was one of those people who said I’d never use a smart phone for anything. Now I pick it up all the time for one thing or another—including keeping up with news practically as it happens!
This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
This week’s blog question is whether there are any topics you won’t write about. Sure. I won’t write about politics, religion, or another person’s spouse. One of my earliest pieces of advice came from my dad who lived most of his adult life in close quarters with a bunch of other men on naval ships. He said those three things were topics no one should ever discuss. I assume because they were hot buttons that would cause fights. I’ll take that to mean I shouldn’t write about them, too. They’re nothing but trouble.
great romances in that genre. But I know my limitations and I would not be able to write a same sex romance that would be good enough for anyone to read. This is also a problem with stories that have strong animal characters. I love dogs and cats but I don’t have all that much experience with them, sadly. Would I be able to portray them as main assets in a book? I fear not.
I suppose if you knew that I’d been a long-distance trucker it wouldn’t surprise you to know that I’d rather drive then fly whenever I can. Flying used to be fun—back when there were fewer travelers, when I was in college and could still dash from one gate to another, and when a size 10 still fit the seats. Need I say that none of those things work for me anymore?
to be relaxed in the west of the U.S. than in the crowded east, but even there I just like having some control over my life with my hands on the wheel. I try not to let people push me. I find a comfortable speed and hang in there. If someone wants to go faster, there’s usually a way to pass. Mores the pity, though, because I’m watching the signs, wondering where the people in all the cars are going, and who lives in that pretty blue house on the right side of the road. Life is good. Oh yeah, and I might spend a passing moment following the contrails of a jet overhead.
Ah! Winning the lottery Who doesn’t dream of this happening? I’ve dreamed of it so often, for years I considered it my Retirement Plan. No. Really.
show it off to Jack. Scotland is one of my favorite places on earth.
aren’t so many changes marked by editors now. Impatient Passion was the first time I’d ever been edited, excluding school where “editing” meant being graded. I didn’t view it as a fun experience then. Since then I’ve come to accept that it’s a part of the writing process—a good part!
I am of the firm opinion that D-I-E-T is a 4-letter word. It can make strong women gasp and weak women wilt. It stirs more feelings between the sexes as other, more sexual words do not. Such as, Gender A resents the feeling that they have to diet to please Gender B, and Gender B feels some guilt for the desire to see Gender A in skimpy bathing suits that might require—yes—a diet.
near the water. Nine years in Virginia Beach during my pre-teen and teen years meant that my mother and I spent March, April, and May eating lots of carrots and celery sticks. Neither of us wanted to be odd girl out when we hit the beaches—not that I did all that often with my Irish, burn-don’t-tan complexion. But still, I wanted to look the part. I can attest to the fact that dieting for summer is a stupid way to live your life, and fortunately, I gave it up many years ago.
Excerpt:
Yes, when I read something outside my comfort zone, it is likely to be non-fiction. Why is non-fiction kind of weird for me to read? Because I love romance, thrillers, police and FBI procedurals, legal mysteries, all things that spur emotion. And let’s face it, most non-fiction doesn’t really make your heart jump or adrenaline spike. Or the heart go pitter-patter. But once in a while I do pick up a non-fiction book. But only when the subject matter really (really, really) appeals to me.
Bradley) told the story of the U.S. Marines at Iwo Jima. This was a hard book to read at times, but my father-in-law fought in the Pacific as did my great-uncle, so I thought it was important. Marine! The Life of Chesty Puller (Burke Davis) tells the story of the Marine Corps legend. My father-in-law was a Marine and you say the words Chesty Puller and practically every Marine in the room stands to attention. I wanted to know why.