We are so blessed to have Chuck’s father nearby, so having him over for a Father’s Day dinner is a given. Bill and Susan joined us for steak and Chuck’s homemade peach cobbler, which I understand was delicious. (Despite being born in Georgia, I don’t like peaches. Nor do I like sweet tea. I understand that these two facts are enough to revoke my Certified Southerner card.)
I would be remiss if I didn’t brag on Chuck’s awesomeness. Not only is he a faithful provider and loving father, he’s incredible with his hands. In two days he built a retaining wall in our backyard, which has been in constant renovation for several months. This construction won’t be a surprise to many of you who know that Chuck built us a log bed (single-handedly) more than 13 years ago. But, I am doing my wifely duties and sufficiently bragging on his latest accomplishments.
Needless to say, I enjoyed the view through most of it.
Corey and Alex drove up from Atlanta for the weekend so the boys could play and the adults could relax. We spent Saturday afternoon at the campground to swim and participate in some of the extended July 4th celebrations.
It was SO HOT but at least we suffered in good company.
I am officially done with summer. Pretty please, Mother Earth, make autumn come early.
Buying a foreclosure has been very eye-opening for us, everything from negotiating with a bank (Grrr…) to discovering the hidden treasures (i.e., problems) left over from the previous owners. For example, there are light switch covers on every light switch, but there are no screws attaching the light switch covers to the wall. There is some sort of magnetism keeping them in place, as long as you don’t haphazardly flip on the light switch and send the unattached cover flying across the room.
But I digress.
The closets in the master bedroom were empty. By empty I mean there were no shelves, no hanging bars, nothing on which to place our clothes. The closets consisted of walls and carpet. Instead of buying the crappy wire stuff or forking over big bucks for particle board units, my handsome handyman got to work. He designed and constructed a built-in for each of our closets. (That’s right – separate closets!)
Here he is at work in mine:
They aren’t completely done but they are done for this week. Our clothes needed putting away so we could manage ourselves around the bed and bathroom, so we’ve saved the trim work and painting for another weekend. I am so impressed and pleased.
Other tidbits about our foreclosed house include randomly placed rebar sticking out of the ground, a kicked-in bathroom door, and cigarette burns on the kitchen countertops. Plus, a young man named Willie was well-loved by someone who used to live here. I’ve got proof:
These little love notes are written all over the place, some more well-hidden than others. We are gradually painting over them.
Despite it all, I love this place. LOVE it. It just oozes potential. Today I’ll start painting the two-toned green kitchen. The faux Grecian linoleum will have to stay a little longer.
Happy Weekend to all the sweethearts.
It was some time around 3:45 on Friday afternoon that I got the picture message from Chuck. It was a photo of the “Welcome to Arkansas” sign from the Arkansas-Tennessee state line. He’d been on the road a little more than six hours and would arrive on our doorstep well after midnight (2:30 a.m., to be exact). We were at the playground, a necessary after-school activity for two energetic little boys. Jeremy caught my facial expression upon seeing the picture message – a mixture of excitement and relief that brought tears – and asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?” I shook my head and he went back to playing. The weekend wasn’t going to drown me after all.
I didn’t tell the boys their dad was coming home. Seeing their surprised faces Saturday morning would be well worth the secret-keeping.
So far, the three-day weekend has been a good seesaw between busy and relaxed. We grabbed burgers at Blue Sky (the best in town) and spent a few hours at the Discovery Center. We’ve played Xbox and napped and snacked our way through a Sunday afternoon. The weather has been ideal, which helps to ward off the regular bouts of cabin fever.
Sidebar: There is a massive amount of geese flocking the man-made lakes of Amarillo. There is an equal amount of goose poop in the grass surrounding the man-made lakes of Amarillo. You’ve been warned.
Today is my day to be a recluse while the three boys do whatever noisy, beast-like activities they need to do to feel like men. I will read, run and rest. (That very sentence gives me happy little goose bumps.)
Speaking of reading, this book has captured my attention in the most obsessive way. I’ve read 100 pages in the last two days and will mostly likely finish it tonight. Kevin Roose is a fabulous writer, and his semester-long experience at Liberty University (as a former Brown student, unbeliever and card-carrying liberal) is eye-opening. It’s been a test of my will not to flip to the end to read the conclusion.