We’ll be moving all weekend. Our internet gets shut off at the old place on Monday, and it won’t get turned on at the new one until Thursday. 4 days without internet! If you need to get a hold of us, give a ring. We actually get cell reception at the new place, so we’re much more accessible that way.
I thought I was out of body parts that I felt like sharing with the world, but then I was totally inspired by the tattoo story over here, and I remembered that I have a tattoo story or two to share. In fact, in keeping with the spirit of taking photos from angles you don’t normally see, I remembered this tattoo that I rarely even remember I have. It’s on my right shoulder blade, where I can’t see it. As it turns out, it’s also really hard to take a picture of it, even with mirrors. It took several dozen tries to finally capture it on “film”, and now that I’m reminded how it looks, I remember why it is that people always say, “Is that a dog? What is it?”
This tattoo came from a book of “cowgirl wisdom” sitting on the counter at a retail store where I worked in high school. Think Chicken Soup for the Cowgirls Soul, although that wasn’t the title. Mostly it was quite cheesy, but on one page there was a quote, “Sometimes you just have to toss the skillet out, throw the bridle away, and let the panther scream.” And it was accompanied by this little line drawing of a panther. I liked the quote a lot, and I had been hanging out with this guy who’s real name was Wyman but he went by “Turk” (short for Turkey Butt, the result of one of the embarrassing childhood moments that your family will never let you live down, even though you’re 18 now and, like, totally an adult).
I was 17, and I liked the quote, and Turk had a tattoo gun that he had made his very own self from a radio motor and just how cool is that! So we traced the line drawing out of the book, and then traced it onto my skin. And then he tattooed it, just like that, on his living room couch, between the two pedastal ashtrays that flanked the arms of his couch so that you wouldn’t have to find and ashtray and carry it around with you, there being no other flat surfaces other than the floor in the whole 10 foot square living room. Good times.
I always meant to have the words added in later. Just “Let the Panther Scream” tattooed around it, but I never got around to it. And really, when I look at it objectively, I realize that it does have a little bit of bagginess to it. It’s sort of what Eeyore would have looked like if Eeyore was a panther. It’s not really a screaming panther sort of panther. It’s more of a sloping along looking for a good place to nap sort of a panther. Which is probably appropriate after all.
Check out more self-portraits at SPC…
Finished the floors tonight:
I’m sending some paint cards to Kathy, since she’s going to weave us a groovy rug. Since I was writing down the color combos, I thought I’d share them here also, in case you’re curious. Here are all the colors we used in the house:
Preston’s room is white with the dark blue trim. My room is white with one pink wall. I haven’t done the trim yet, but I think I’ll use the grey color. The bathroom is the medium blue with the dark blue trim. The living room has one white wall, two grey walls, and one pink-ish wall. The kitchen is mostly white with one pink-ish wall. We haven’t decided for sure about the trim in the kitchen. I’ll decide about that when I paint the kitchen cabinets.
For now, we’re out of time for decorating and we have 6 days to get everything packed and moved and the old apartment cleaned.
DeAnna: We totally rock!
Preston: Well…kind of slowly. But ya, we rock.
DeAnna: I guess we sort of ballad.
Preston: Just call me Leta Ford.
Last weekend, I was wandering around the back yard trying to clear my head of primer fumes before tackling the next project when I saw a dragonfly on a stump. For a second, I wished I had my camera on me, but I thought that dragonflies always fly away before you can get a shot anyway. But this dragonfly stayed in the same spot for several minutes while I watched it. Finally, I walked back into the house and grabbed my camera. It was still there when I came back, and it didn’t even twitch when I took several close-up pictures of it. I started to think that maybe it was dead, but can they hold on to a vertical surface after they die? And then I wondered if maybe they molt, and what I was seeing was a molted shell. It stayed in precisely the same spot for around four hours, and I was convinced that it must not be alive. But then I went out there later in the afternoon and it was gone, with no sign of it on the ground near the stump. Did something eat it? Did it fly away after all?
Also in the backyard is a spot where there used to be a stump sitting in the grass, so the grass is mostly dead. Around that circle of grass there have been several mushrooms growing, all the same type. Does anyone know what they are? I don’t have any good mushroom ID books.
This week’s Self Portrait Challenge adds another layer of challenge. Not only is it about body parts, the challenge is to take parts of yourself that you can’t usually see. So here are two images of myself, from angles that I’ve never seen before.
Have I mentioned that my life is pretty much about the painting lately? That’s what I spent the weekend doing also. A friend from work came to help for a couple hours on Saturday; Amy and Shannon came for most of the afternoon on Sunday.
I’ve ripped out all the carpet and pad, down to the concrete floor underneath.
Step One: Cut the carpet into manageable sized chunks and roll them up.
Step Two: Roll up the pad, trying to leave as little pad glued to the concrete as possible. (Click for a close-up of the pad. It’s gross.)
Step Three: Take all the carpet and pad to the garage, where Preston can decide what to do with it. Wonder how to clean all the stains off the concrete.
Step Four: Decide to ignore the concrete floor situation and work on the bathroom walls. Here’s what comes off the walls when I wash them. It’s even grosser in person. When the nicotine gets disturbed, it releases big wafts of smell. Maybe we should get Mike Rowe to come help us out with this. It is definitely a dirty job. This handful of rags came from one small bathroom wall.
Step Five: After all the walls are cleaned, start applying primer. At this stage, I realized that the walls are actually painted brown. Whose idea was it to paint the whole damn house the same brown color? Even the ceiling.
Since the last photo, we’ve started primering the ceiling and living room walls, Preston is working on removing baseboards and the tack strips left from the carpet, and the rest of the bathroom is painted, except for the trim. We’re doing away with all the dark brown trim. It all has to be painted over anyway, since EVERY SINGLE SURFACE is imbedded with cigarette smoke, so we’re going to do all the trim in the house white. Except Preston’s room, which will have white walls and dark blue trim, and mine which will have mostly white walls and pink trim.
My life is all about the painting right now. We’re removing 5 years worth of chain-smoking residue off the walls, and then painting over the stains. Cross your fingers for us that this makes the place smell less like the smoking lounge in hell. I’m finding that I actually enjoy the painting process (although I’m sure I’ll be sick of it by the time we’re done). I’m such an intensely visual person that I’m totally entranced by the wall color changing right before my eyes. So here’s my eye, and
a sneak peek at the new bathroom wall color.
Check out more self portraits here