We’re still waiting for the roof to dry out enough so that we can repair the leak above the bathroom, and get to work remodeling the bathroom. This weather needs to start cooperating with my plans– I find it totally unacceptable that it insists on drizzling right over our house.

One bright side is that this gives Matt and I more time to argue over materials, colors and fixtures. I am trying to convince him to let me clean up the old tub (which is quite good and usable) and shower doors and sell them, so that I can put the money towards a nice old clawfoot tub and hardware.

He doesn’t think that cleaning it up would be worth the effort because it’s so old and ordinary, and that in order to sell it we’d have to refinish it. I looked it over (yesterday, when I was taking a bath) and I can’t see any wear or scratches so I’m not quite sure what he means. I think he thinks that I am not going to have the patience to sell it.

Admittedly we have wildly different tastes when it comes to materials and colors.

We’re like that song; he’s a little bit country and I’m a little bit rock n’ roll punk rock.

Curriculum will include a lab, two field trips to actual yarn stores as well as skill placement examinations and gift wrapping. Your significant other will learn purse holding, basic listening skills and will be able to appreciate the difference between periwinkle and lavender.

My husband bought me a yarn swift. This officially makes Matt the best husband EVER.

Gotta’ love a man that understands a serious yarn habit. It helps that he was so generous as to only put 21 candles on my birthday cake yesterday.

If you aren’t familiar with this style of truck, relax, close your eyes and envision a gun rack. Slowly let the truck form itself around the gun rack and a tattered John Deere baseball cap in your minds eye. This is one of those machines that if it gets in a serious wreck you just hose the old driver off the dashboard, fix the chrome, replace the radio antenna, and you’re good to go.

Ours is just that kind of truck, sans gunrack (we believe in keeping our firearms out of the reach of redneck teenager social deviants, thank-you-very-much.)

My darling husband is giving me driving lessons in this thing. I see the little white Kias and Toyotas with the “student driver” sign on the top of the car and I want one of those signs– except my sign should say something like “Caution: *You* are my crumple zone” or “WTF!?” or “How good *are* your airbags?”

It’s really nice to see that so many drivers on the road are completely at peace with their maker. Those of us that aren’t quite ready to hear the sweet song of the choir invisible would appreciate it if they’d mind not taking us along for the ride. I’m certain of my salvation and all, but I’ve still business in this life so I’d like to stick around for a while.

Speaking of which, is it a bad thing that instead of seeing my life flash before my eyes I see my unfinished knitting projects? Just curious.

Absolutely lovely.

The sun is out, the weather is warming up and my strawberries are showing new growth and flowers.

And the new blueberry bush is showing promising growth as well.

The husband is looking very healthy and happy isn’t he?

He broke down and bought me some chicks (I knew he would). And now the husband has to build a chicken coop before the chicks have their full feathers in. But aren’t they adorable?

My. Husband. Cleaned.

Just let that sink in. Sometimes it just takes a while to accept certain things as reality, don’t try to force yourself to take it all in at once– it’s better for the brain to just let it sit in the back of your mind for a little while until it seems less surreal.

Bigger yet, my husband (who is a fantastically talented modeller and scratchbuilder) put away over a dozen finished models. Woo!

Don’t get me wrong, this is his artwork and I don’t even ask him to move or not display his art– it’s just that it gets to this point where it starts looking all cluttery and bric-a-brac so I silently hoped that he’d figure out a way to thin things out to a reasonable level.

Last week, I cleaned the diningroom. Usually I declutter the flylady way (actually, to give credit where it’s due, if I hadn’t been following the routines for decluttering I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did) but this time (with inspiration from Vicki of Organizedstudio the moral support of Opal who was on the phone with me, encouraging me the whole time) I pulled everything out of the dining room, swept and mopped the floor.

The magic really was that I put the table in the direction where it works best, not how it was, and only moved back the things I actually wanted in the dining room. I realized when Vicki sent me an email questionnaire about my organization problems that I really just work around everyone else.

Each kid has a semi-private workspace, Matt has a dedicated desk and work areas. I just sort of work here and then move when someone else needs the space, and my supplies are here and there, stashed in closets where I can’t get to them without digging out the contents of the whole darned closet and up on shelves.

So whether it’s the new dining room feng shui acting on Matt or he’s just inspired by the new bit of fresh tidiness– I don’t really care. It’s just awesome that he actually cleaned, de-cluttered and put things away.

Yay Matt, even though this is probably the 7th seal of the Apocalypse: “And lo, the men picked their crap up and wives beheld the sight in wonder. So cometh the vengeance of righteous tidiness and the dust bunnies of evil will be purged from under the couch and from in the dark recesses of the entertainment centers.”

I’m paraphrasing of course, but I’m going to enjoy it until at least until rapture.