The heartland redux....

Darlings, even as you read this, I am probably back in the Heartland!

I leave Sunday, 4/1, for Chicago via Alaska Airlines, and will be heading to Omaha on Tuesday via the California Zephyr. I'll arrive just in time to take Mother Vel-Duray to her (hopefully) last chemo appointment on Wednesday, and will be there for two weeks. Then I fly back to Chicago, meet the Colonel, and we head back to Seattle on the Empire Builder, with stops at the Izaak Walton Inn in Essex Montana, and then onto Whitefish, Montana, arriving back into town on Sunday, April 22. In our absence, Chez Vel-DuRay will be in the capable hands of not only The Greek and the livestock, but several downright brutish Amtrak gentlemen who have decided to sample life in Seattle.

I'll have internet connectivity, so more dispatches from the heartland will be forthcoming. If I hear good news from The Major Concern about employment, you will be one of the first to know.

In the meantime, do try to keep up the standards, won't you? Promise me none of you will go out and buy sofas with built-in cupholders, or redo your bathrooms in Marble. Remember, if the urge to "scrapbook" hits you, that I'm only a phone call away.

To tide you over, enjoy this picture of the old Golden Lion Restaurant in the pre-Four Season Olympic Hotel, back when it was a Westin (and never let anyone tell you that Westins never went in for kitsch)




confidential to Miss Stayformore: Your present is in. The Colonel is eager to deliver it to you, and show you a new project we've been working on.

There's a new hutch in my life....

So the other day I took the train down to Tacoma. I could have driven, of course, but Sven the Volvo needed a new master cylinder. So I dropped him off, and jumped the 36 down to the station.

The ride was flawless, of course, and the day was lovely, so a light lunch and a cocktail were in order (I had the macaroni and cheese, and one of their lovely bottles of red wine). Too soon, the train arrived in Tacoma.

In the next few years, they will be relocating both the route and the Amtrak station so that the train goes through south Tacoma. The downside is that a big stretch of the route that goes along the water will be abandoned. The very good side of that is that there will be a very neato transfer to the Tacoma light rail route. But until that happens, it's a four block walk to the light rail station. It's a dreary neighborhood, but I was on a little adventure, and the walk was easy. Soon, I was electroluxing through the traffic to downtown Tacoma. If the Seattle light rail will be anything like this, it's gonna be excellent.

After alighting in the Tacoma "Theatre District", I headed up the hill to the bowed and bloody Antique Row.

Antique Row had some fabulous stores on it. Actually, it still does, but not to the level of, say, the late great Rampart (which still exists, but in a greatly diminishsed role). Rumor has it that gentrification, along with some extensive street work, is going to kill off Antique Row sooner or later. Lots of stores seem to be having deep, deep, deep discounts, so get down there while you can.

I ventured into one store, which is literally packed to the rafters with all manner of things, and started looking around. It was dark, and claustrophobic, and rather dusty. I was thinking of just abandoning it when I heard a metaphysical whimper. Being highly attuned to the spiritual needs of furniture, I knew that I needed to trudge forward, and find out what the matter was.

It was in a particularly sinister corner, partially hidden behind loads of gunk, that I found this:


Yes, yes - I know what you're thinking "Say, isn't that fabulous china cabinet from the Drexel "Profile" line from late '57?" Well, all I can say is GOOD EYE, gentle reader - that's exactly what it is!!!



I was in a quandry: I needed to rescue this piece, obviously, but what could I - a Christian homemaker who had taken the train - do?

Well, I bargained (you would not believe the song I got this cabinet for) and I prepared to vamp (no, not in the trampy way, but in the how-am-I-going-to-get-them-to-keep-it-overnight way)

I neededn't have worried. They told me that it would have to be picked up the next day, as they would need time to get it out of the sinister corner. So, I paid them and, with a glad heart, headed back to the train station.

The next day I took the truck (amidst numerous advisories, threats, and precautions from the colonel) and headed back to Tacoma to pick it up. After the necessary cleanings, we moved it into the dining room and loaded it up.

I could gas on and on about this piece (actually, it seems I already have) so I will leave you with just a few more pics (the built-in light, and the stylish slant top)

I told you the happiest days are the days the furniture arrives. Wasn't I right?

reason #447,494,569,494 that Republicans are jerks

Now they want to shut down Al Gore's big anti-global warming concert on the steps of the Capital. It seems they think it's too "controversial" (only to them). Never mind that if they thought they could get away with it, we would have the Exxon/Mobil Singers doing hourly floorshows there 24/7.

And speaking of whiny losers: President Bush and his peevish, nasaly, faux twang is really getting on my nerves. He sounds EXACTLY like the worst performing appliance salesman at a particularly disenfranchised Sears trying to explain why no one has bought a washing machine from him since he started working there six months ago. If he hadn't been born rich, and had had anything other than that deep freeze of a mother (who bears more than a passing resemblence to a female impersonator, by the way) he might have had a chance at being normal. But the Mommy Dearest pretty much assured us that he would turn out the way he did, and the Nazi money got him where he is (that, and the large percentage of morons who reside in this country). And we have to babysit him for two more years.

Lastly, You've undoubtedly heard me go off on Representative Steve King (R-Iowa), the Neanderthal embarassment to the fair state of Iowa. Well, I have good news!!!! There is an anti-king, and you can see him grilling some GOP simp here in this very interesting bit of footage about how the Republicans used the General Service Administration to target Democratic encumbants. See??? I told you Iowa was cool. It's just western Iowa that sometimes has to take the short bus!!!



Oh well. I can't be too upset. After all, it's a beautiful day, and there's new furniture coming. The best days are the days the new furniture arrives.

In honor of the Season....

I suspect, dear readers, that you are not a very religious bunch. Oh, I hear things, I do - it's not all tablesettings and linen closets around here: But apart from infrequent accounts of recorder playing amongst the Des Moines Episcopaleans, or rather unsuccessful sing-alongs of obscure Mormon Hymns, our quota of churchy stuff is rather sparse.

So that's why I bring you this rather annoying website which features all of your (?) favorite hymns, all played on the most irritating syntesizer known to man.

THERE ARE THOSE OF YOU (I'm thinking of you, Madison Houswife) who will doubtless enjoy this in much the same way that I do. In the same way that I enjoy singing songs slightly off-key, or changing the object of love songs to first person (For instance, "If Ever I Would Leave You" from Camelot is much better when sung as "If Ever I would Leave Me")

If nothing else, it's a wonderful way to get some solitude: I was being driven to distraction, trying to think of what to type today, with the Greek yammering about SOMETHING, and the Colonel yakking away on the phone, and the livestock being livestocky. All it took was a playing of "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam", and I had the kitchen all to myself.

Ain't Technology Grand?

And just so you don't think I'm being sacreligious, I offer you this lovely ceremony, direct from Texas (although it could be Council Bluffs. In fact, this girl probably got the idea for this from an Abraham Lincoln High School Baccelaureate service)

When you can beat it, join it....

It's been rainy and dreary here in Seattle. The rain just beats one down and makes for days best spent in bed, alternately sleeping and drinking Triple Sec right from the bottle.

But I decided to buck that trend: This morning, I got up, put a fall in my hair, patched my makeup, and headed to Tacoma. The general theory being that, no matter how depressing it is in Seattle, things are always worse in Tacoma.

And it was there, that I found this:




Yes! Yes! It's one huge fucking Rain Lamp!!! (Excuse my French. In my excitement, I forget that this is a family blog)

While these are not STRICTLY in our decorating period (which, let me remind you, is "Eve of the [JFK] Assassination") they are just too fun not to snap up when you see them for a reasonable price. We already had a smaller version, ironically given to us by Mrs. Campbell, who was born and raised in Tacoma, but this one simply dwarves that one.

It's filthy, of course, and the seller didn't even know (or care) if it worked, but I got it for a song. I then rushed home, filled it with mineral oil (which is the ONLY kind of oil for a rain lamp) and, lo and behold, it works!!!

The Colonel will doubtless insist on taking it apart and cleaning it, but that's his idea of a good time, and who am I to keep him from a good time?

So there you go: When life give you rain, go out and buy a rain lamp. If you can't find one, you can read all about them here! (and people say there's nothing good on the internet)

The necktie says it all....

Here I am, all dressed up, and with the old tie, looking like an appliance salesman from the 60's



The other day, while running some errands downtown, I got the ridiculous idea in my head that I might buy a new necktie for my second interview at that Major Concern I was telling you about. From my once proud herd of neckties, I have only four left, and they were all the cutting edge of fashion, circa 1999. That was when I last had to concern myself with these things, so I thought it might be nice to update a bit.

Now, I have always had a love/hate relationship with neckties: I think they are corporate nooses, a slim piece of fabric tied around the neck, designed to constrict the blood and make you more amenable to the company's needs. Also, let me just point out here (for you ladies who complain about the cost of pantyhose) that one misstep with lunch, and the tie is toast. But, on the other hand, they are one of the few things a man can wear in the corporate world that allows you to show some personality (suits being, well, suits. No matter how expensive). So I ventured into that store formerly known as Frederick & Nelson, just to see what they might have.

Back in my day, a good necktie was fifty bucks, and available aboveground (and sometimes on the mezzanine!). A really nice one might be ninety. I had figured that prices might have gone up. But I was not prepared for what was waiting for me there, on a severely chic little display, down in the basement where the vacuum cleaners used to be.

Quality silk ties are now Ninety Dollars!!!!! And the really nifty ones are - get this - ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR DOLLARS!!!!

After sitting down for a moment, and having a restorative cocktail and light hors d'oeuvre at the little cafe where the watch repair and luggage departments used to be, I realized that, as usual, I was in the wrong store. I could have gone over to the store previously known as The Bon Marche, but I decided against it: The Major Concern does not require the donning of neckware and, in any event, they're nowhere chic enough to realize that my current collection isn't the last word in neckware.

But really: Doesn't it say something when a department store - albeit a quality department store or, if you will, "fashion retailer". (I'm there for you, Syl) - is asking, and apparently getting, that much money for a piece of silk? Being of the old school, I think it says that there's way too many people walking around with either way too much money or way too much credit, but in any event it bodes ill for society in general, especially when the front of the former F&N is full of the most pitiful souls you are ever going to meet - people to whom ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR DOLLARS (or even fifty bucks, for that matter) could make a huge difference.

Let me make this clear: If I'm going to spend ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR DOLLARS, it's going to be for something fun and fabulous. Like these lamps. Which, for the record, cost nowhere near that.

From the desk of Keeping Your Fingers Crossed...

Darlings, I've not been wanting to say anything due to jinxes, but I have some promising news to share.

1.) Mother Vel-DuRay had latest round of tests, and things are looking awfully well for her. They are doing one last chemo (just for giggles?) and will do a final round of tests, but it looks like the cancer is all gone away. It did leave an awful mess behind however, so all sorts of rehab is necessary. Stay tuned to this channel for more information.

2.) I've loved my time as a Christian Homemaker, but the whole gamut of lunches, fashion shows, bridge dates and church activities does wear after a while. Therefore, I've had a series of interviews with a Major Concern, and it's lookin awfully like I might have a New Position. I won't say what it is, except to hint that, in a previous era, it might have been part of what was called the Home Economics department. Very much more to the point, it pays as much as I was making at Today's World, so keep your fingers crossed.

In Any Event, it looks like I will be returning to the heartland in a week or so for a few weeks at The Old Home Place to put things in order for the social season. Before that, however, I have all sorts of things to give you hints and tips about. So just rest your collective bustles.

In the meantime, enjoy this photo of the old Omaha bus terminal.

The importance of silver, china, crystal and linen

Dear Gracious Readers,

A young homemaker-to-be from the heartland writes "What is the point of asking for linens, China and Silver when getting married? Whoever uses that stuff these days?"

As a connesuier of Casual Suburban Living, I am often asked questions like this, and they account for at least three of my frown lines. I just don't understand people who think that being "casual" means having a loutish, banal home. I blame the television.

China, crystal and silver are special things, meant for special occassions. It's nice to have people over, and to show them that you value their company by bringing out your special things for you to enjoy together. It doesn't have to be pricey either: sets of china and sterling silver can be found economically at second hand and antique stores. (but, if you are getting married, there's no reason you shouldn't ask for the new stuff, particularly if you have affluent elderly relatives. They love to buy things like that. It helps assure them that we're not all a bunch of thuggish bores)

And don't forget the benefits of the good, old-fashioned hope chest either: Mother Vel-DuRay, in the years before she was married, bought her sterling piece by piece. She afforded the silver by skimping on lunch, which helped keep her skinny, which helped find her a husband.

I'm sure there are those of you out there who are muttering "He doesn't have children! He has no idea of what it's like!" Well darlings, I do know what it's like. Mother Vel-DuRay had a set of sterling, a set of crystal and some nice china. We got them out for special occassions, along with our good manners, and we put them away when we were done (and this was in a house with no dishwasher!). Because of those formative experiences during my tender years, I am able to assure you that children can indeed participate in, and benefit from, a well-set table from time to time. Just think where any of us would be right now if the Vel-DuRay's had just eaten off of paper plates every Thanksgiving? You certainly wouldn't be sitting here reading about the crystal, would you?

A word of warning however: Just as you should never cry over spilt milk, you shouldn't get too worked up if a little one breaks a plate or a glass (but do count the silver. They might be pocketing it to use as shovels). Your china and crystal are for using, not for looking at, and everything can be replaced.

So that's why you should bother. Because life's too short not to have some special occassions, and what's a special occassion without some pretty things? And you don't want your children to grow up to be uncivilized bores now, do you? DO YOU?

Now, onto linens.

I have something that might suprise you: I'm not big into tablecloths. They stain easily, and need to be specially laundered. They also need ironing, which is a drag. So I don't normally use a tablecloth, having opted instead for a quality dining room table and some festive placemats.

But napkins - that's another story. I wouldn't DREAM of not having napkins.

Napkins are like the final touch on a place setting, whether you are using your prettiest china and silver, or your everyday patterns. They're more ecologially sensitive than loutish paper towels or napkins as well, as an average linen napkin can last for years.

And they needn't be expensive either: Being a thrifty homemaker, I buy most of our napkins at thrift stores. A good washing, a touch of the iron, and Voila! They have a new lease on life in your gracious home.

The mistake that many people make is to buy too few napkins: If anything, you should figure out how many you think you'd need, and then times that by four. That way, you aren't caught with all of your napkins in the laundy hamper when folks stop by. Remember too, that napkins have many other uses as well: Wine bottle wraps, bread baskets, hand guards when carrying hot dishes to the table (please don't tell me you bring you pot holders to the table. I'm already stressed out by the future heartland homemakes) - the list goes on and on.

Don't be afraid to mix and match either - unless you are doing the most formal of dinners (which are better left to private dining rooms in hotels and restaurants anyway, as you'd need help in the kitchen, and that's advanced homemaking) there's no need to be uniform. Different colored napkins lend a gay, casual touch to your well-set table.

So, to answer your question dear homemaker-to-be (and you other hangers on), go for it: Ask those relatives for the china, glass, silver and linen you need for a well-appointed home. Or buy it yourself. Just don't be afraid to use it.

Poor stupid naive Omaha......

One thing is to be said for Council Bluffs. It never thought it was anything it wasn't: A small midwestern manufacturing town.

The same cannot be said for Omaha.

Omaha refuses to admit that it's in the middle of nowhere, and that it's main industry is death (life insurance) and dying (the medical centers). It's a silly, provincial place full of people too naive to leave or itching for that promotion that will finally get them out of there.

As part of that, they continue to tear down anything interesting or unique, and call it progress. The prime example is the only thing that can even remotely be called a tourist draw: an area called the Old Market, which consists of some old brick warehouses that have been rehabbed into cutesy shops and restaurants with salad bars.

Adjacent to the Old Market was an area called "jobber's canyon" that was filled with more, and bigger, brick warehouses along the Missouri River. Prime for loft living and expansion of the successful, but small neighborhood. You'd think the city would shelter and encourage that little bit of growth in the dead downtown, right?

Wrong. ConAgra, the big scary carcenogenic "food" company, got it in their head they needed a new "corporate campus", and that they needed it to be where Jobber's Canyon sat. They threatened to leave town (even though, as a failsafe, they bought some land out west) and the city caved. Down went Jobber's Canyon, and up went the typical suburban office complex, as generic as anything you might see from New Jersey to California. Goodbye, expansion of a unique neighborhood. Hello, banality.

And now they are tearing down the Union Pacific building. They propose to replace it with - get this - a 32 storey condo building.

The UP headquarters was built in 1906. It is one of seminal buildings of Omaha - one of the places where, in a much more interesting time for the city, important decisions were made. It's a handome building of grey brick with tan accents, and built like the proverbial brick shithouse.

Other, more important cities, cities populated with intelligent, forward looking people, have saved similar structures: The Santa Fe building in Chicago is sought after office space. Same for the old Burlington Northern Building in St. Paul. The New York Central building in NYC is one of the cities most posh addresses. The Southern Pacific building in San Francisco is a hot property. But in Omaha, the UP building is being demolished in favor of a 32 story condo tower that, in all liklihood, will never be built.

The housing market is crashing nationwide. Condos are overbuilt. It's bad enough in towns where people actually want to live, but in Omaha, it will be a disaster. I predict now that once the UP building is gone, it will become like the sites of the Omaha Theatre, the Fontenelle Hotel, and the original Woodmen of the World building: A parking lot. A parking lot for those who are stuck in Omaha to park their cars during the day, and where they will leave from at night, to return to the banality of their west Omaha homes, where they will spend the evening watching TV and dreaming about living someplace other than that nowhere on the plains, Omaha.

RIP, Union Pacific building. It's probably just as well. You're a symbol of a much more sophisticated era. You don't belong in Hooterville.

The patient is much better, thank you...

Stove, dear stove, is feeling much better. It was just a little constipated due to soot in its lines. We're awfully afraid it will recover.

We do have to wash its burner and bake it dry. We'll probably have to borrow the Professor and Midge's oven to do that.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. The flowers you sent are just lovely, and really brightened stove's day.

When Illness Strikes....

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. And, may I add? - Oh my.

Something is dreafully wrong with the Tappan Fabulous 400 Gas Range. Her burners work, but her ovens will not light. Their pilots work, but the burner parts just won't catch.

We tried the usual home remedies - Scrubbing the little area around the pilots with a stiff wire brush - but nothing. Nada. Zilch.

We've called a specialist (Dave's Appliance, who ARE terrific) and they will send somebody out, but I'm not optomistic. It's not that I don't think it can be repaired, I just think most repair people these days don't actually repair things: They are professional replacement suggesters ("Listen, Mac: Why do you even wanna fix an old thing like that? Git yourself a new one over by Sears or Home Depot")

So say a prayer to the appliance Gods that the Fabulous 400 can be repaired, won't you? If not, we may have to buy a (shudder) new stove. Once you go gas, you never go back.

Powder Room Break!

Well, not literally. Unless you need to, of course. I just wanted to show you pictures of our NEW POWDER ROOM!!!!

Perhaps you remember the grim, stoic toilet room with the huge closet that passed for a downstairs comfort station: Horrible lighting, horrible color, no place to freshen your make-up? Well, those days are over.

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet your new powder room:


This is the view as you enter the room, with the "commode" and Orgasmatron, er, I mean Shower! Yes, Shower!!!



And here's the sink and mirror. As you've already seen that dreadful light fixture, so we won't go THERE again. Isn't she pretty in Pink? (or peach, if you insist. Sometimes I have trouble with colors)




Finally, it wouldn't be a Chez Vel-DuRay Powder Room without some kind of campy built-in. So here's the Nu-Tone Built-In Scale! That's right - it folds down from the wall when you need it, and hides in its little house when you don't!



So there it is. Of course, it needs some decorating done, but that will happen in time.

Next Stop: The Guest Room (which will take a couple of days, so don't just sit there hitting the refresh button)

Let's talk about coffee tables....

Since you were all such good sports about my occassional little outbursts about the Bush family, let's have a nice pallette cleanser and talk about coffee tables.

I have surely had more coffee tables than the average person. I've had big coffee tables, little coffee tables, cheap coffee tables, expensive coffee tables, rectangular coffee tables, L-shaped coffee tables, and kidney shaped coffee tables. Some have been glass, some have been wood, some have been tiled, some have been laminate. But they've all been special in their own coffee table way.

Take this little number: Sturdy and sensible, while still chic. Perfect for the college age style guru and/or go-go boy:



Or the big, wide-open, coffee table, perfect for lounging on the sectional:



Or the ultra-chicness of pure, strong Glass on an organic base!



Or this dainty little table from my first one-bedroom apartment!



Nowadays, of course, as a Christian Homemaker, I tend to more substantial tables. Like the charming one currently in the Sala Grande of Chez Vel-DuRay:



So imagine my Charm and Delight to find this! It's more the "cocktail" version of a coffee table, what with it's built-in bar. Perfect for the "rumpus room" of Chez Vel-DuRay



Yes, if life is measured, as I suspect it is, in terms of Fabulous Coffee Tables, then I am truly blessed.

The complete and utter campiness of the Bush Administration

Yes, yes, yes, we all know that President Bush and his administration is completely and utterly incompetent. So incompetent that it's actually pretty funny. So instead of preaching to what is undoubtedly the choir (to not be in the choir you would really have to be pretty dense, and have no concept of Good Taste) I thought I'd just dwell on the campiness of the Bush Administration.

Just think about it: An American city flooded: Thousands stranded, hundreds drowned. What's the campiest thing to do in that situation? Go buy shoes!!!

An unprovoked war against a tiny, ineffectual, country: Hundreds of thousands killed, thousands wounded. Billions of dollars unaccounted for, a botched and bloody occupation. What's the campiest thing to do? Hand out some tacky jewelry to those most responsible.

A horrific terrorist attack on an inconic complex in the heart of the nation's largest city, as well as its capitol. Thousands dead, a nation traumatized and ready to unite in a way that it hasn't been since Pearl Harbor. What's the campiest thing to do? Suggest that we all go shopping!!!

I could go on and on, but it really needs a website of its own. The reason I bring it up now is because this became clear to me just this morning when I saw this - it's a picture of the retirement ceremony for the guy who is taking the fall for the mess at Walter Reed Hospital (you know, where we were warehousing wounded soldiers in a place with holes in the ceiling and mold on the walls, thanks to Bush Administration Privitization)



I mean, just look at that: Chorus boys! Costumes! Draperies! It's like a drag pageant! Put a gown on the guy in the uniform, and a tux on the guy in the suit, and it would be a dead ringer for the Court of San Francisco's coronation!

And people say that the Bush Family has no sense of humor.

The Battle of the Cheap-Ass Light Fixture

As part of our powder room project, The Colonel and I installed a light fixture today. It was a cheap thing from Lowes, with just a little pizzazz, but the install was a comedy of errors.

To begin with, the mounting hardware refused to work with an outlet box, which meant we had to drill holes for it. Then the fixture itself was bent out of shape, and we had to mess with it. The whole time I kept muttering about how you get what you pay for, and what do you expect from slave labor (made in China) which didn't endear me to The Colonel, who takes these sorts of projects very seriously.

There are those who design fixtures (you know who you are) and they do high quality stuff that looks good. But this wasn't anything like that - it was just some dumb-ass Lowes POS. But it was cheap and cheerful, and will do until we find some sort of snazzy, pizzazzy, gorgeousy thing.

Yuck Yuck Yuck Yuck Yuck

If this comes to fruition, I give up. Seattle will be dead to me. It will be time to move on.

The new Four Seasons has already got me nervous. But Trump? Ugh.

I had a dream last night....

I usually don't talk about things like this, because people who talk about dreams are usually bores, but this one was pretty interesting, for a variety of reasons.

I was in Iowa City, visiting the Iowa Memorial Union, where I toiled as a young thing, and which is a place I hardly ever dream of. While I was standing in the lobby, there was a crowd of drunks there (which is par for the course for the IMU, btw) and I saw a Banquet Captain I used to work with (but not at the IMU. I worked with her at the Olympic Hotel if you must know) She was on-duty, and some drunk harassing her, and snapped her bra really hard (I told you this was an interesting dream)

There were all these uniformed security dorks standing around, so I went up to one of them and suggested that he do his job, and he was your typical rent-a-cop, not looking for any trouble, so I asked to talk to the building manager (which was my last job there. It was the first one I ever had where I had to wear a suit!) and he told me that they didn't have those jobs anymore because they were "all lazy people".

That really set me off. We building managers weren't union (Technically, we were graduate assistants or something like that), but that wasn't important at the moment. I read the snide little nocturnal rent-a-twerp the riot act, and told him that if it wasn't for unions he wouldn't get overtime, or have a forty hour work week, or a minimum wage, etc, etc, etc. Real Norma Rae stuff. I did everything but get up on a table with a sign that said "UNION"!

I don't know what happened with the poor misplaced Banquet Captain or the drunks, but I think it probably worked out OK. We're talking about Iowa City, after all.

But as the grandson of an IBEW worker, the son of a former CWA worker (who marched in the massive 1947 AT&T strike) and the significant other of a member of the TCU, I think I did my people proud.

The New Powder Room is almost done.....

So tantalizingly close, but yet so far.

All of the plumbing is done, including the new-fangled toilet that has a flush for - shall we say - "liquids" versus "solids". The only peculiar thing is that while we weren't looking the plumber switched out the faucet on the vintage sink we had selected with a rather tacky/dreary new faucet (and charged us an additional $150 in the process!) but at least THAT'S over.

Tomorrow the carpenter returns to put up the shower walls, put down the baseboard trim, and put the door on the bathrom (which is always a nice touch, don't you think?) Then it will be my turn to put those little touches on a room that only a Christian homemaker can really do.

They'll be pictures, of course, so gird your loins accordingly.

We've also made an honest woman out of the basement bedroom: It has a closet, and a new paint job, and (perhaps) even a carpet soon. It's not nearly as suicide-inducing as it previously was.

Progress, thy name is Chez Vel-DuRay!

Odds 'n Ends...

Now that I am FINALLY home and things are coming together nicely in the great Chez Vel-DuRay renovation, I have some TGTC housekeeping items to attend to:

1.) The Hotel Nikko in San Francisco is once again safe for people of taste and breeding to visit. The problem was actually sort of my fault, but the reaction of the hotel was - at first - extremely vulgar. (Short version: Pre-paid reservation, called to tell them of late arrival, arrived late, they wouldn't honor reservation) After a stern, but polite letter of complaint, I received not only a letter of apology but a credit for the entire stay. So they are redeemed in the eyes of the tasteful. Go take a lovely trip to San Francisco, and stay at the Nikko.

2.) Many of you have asked about my crush on the Butcher at the Hy-Vee. His name was Cole, and he was lovely: Tall, with dark eyes, a wonderful goatee, and such strong hands!!! Alas, every time I approached the butcher counter, I was always waited on by one of the more boring butchers, but at least I could feast my eyes on him. As a result of my obsession, Mother Vel-DuRay now has a freezer full of steaks, so it was really a win/win situation!!

That's all for now. Please carry on.

Confidential to Sylvia: Thanks for stopping by last night darling! Love the Betty Furness Thermometer Set!!!