Quarantine project

I have a soda table that supposedly came from my grandfather's ten-cent store. As kids, my grandfather's soda fountain, candy cases, and books were my must-go-to sections. My brother and I would climb on the soda fountain counter's stools and order anything we wanted. Sometimes my grandfather made it. Sometimes my mom. 

I have no memory of tables. But, this one came from the store when my grandfather closed it, so after my mother died, I insisted on bringing it home. With iron legs and a marble top, the piece is HEAVY. I put it in my Steelers room. 

Over our first quarantine, Oleg set a cup down on the table, and the marble top split in two. No warning. No noise. It just broke. Tom, who loves getting rid of our belongings, was ready to toss out the table before I intervened.

Me: "Absolutely, not. This thing came from my grandfather's store!"

Having never been to that store, he could have cared less. In Tom's mind, the less stuff we have, the better. His motto? If you bring something new into the house, something old better exit it.

One day, while he and I were shopping at Home Depot, I noticed a woodpile cut into circles. I told him those were the perfect size for fixing the soda table and explained my idea. I'd paint the wood, slap on a Steelers decal, and mod podge it. It'd fit right in the Steelers room. So, I bought one, came home, and put it directly on the broken marble. 

Where it has been sitting for months, driving Tom insane. Anytime he enters the Steelers room, he remarks on when or why I haven't gotten to this project.

Tom: "This is huge. It's going to take you at least a week. You have no idea of the magnitude of this project. First, you have to buy paint. This wood will soak it up, so it'll need several coats. Then you have to figure out how to attach it to the legs, and that's not going to be easy." 

I'd roll my eyes. It was a one-day project at best. I kept telling him to quit worrying. I'd get to it.

Two weeks ago, I got to it. Madison and I stopped at Lowe's and picked up paint. Too much, as it turns out because it only needed two coats. I painted it outside, and by the time I finished washing my brush, the piece was dry. I applied the second coat, and after the clean-up, moved on to step two.

I turned the table over and unscrewed the nuts that held the legs. There were three of them. Two came off easily. The third required a wrench. From there, I searched through Tom's stuff until I found three screws I thought would work, and I screwed on the table. This proved to be the hardest part of the job as the angle was tricky, and I had to use some muscle. It probably took ten minutes.

Next, I centered the decal, and then because I knew my husband would check, I measured it. For some reason, I have a good eye when it comes to this sort of thing. It used to drive my father crazy because I'd hang pictures without measuring, and for the most point, when he'd bring out the level to check my work, it was dead-on. Tom is like my father in second-guessing my abilities.

Then, because my mod-podge was old, I spread contact paper over the top of the table, and Madison cut it with an Exacto knife. The project took me a little over an hour from start to finish, and I have to say, it looked damn good. It pops in the room!

Madison: "It looks SO good, Mom. You did a great job."

I set a small lamp on it and left it on so that when Tom came home, I could casually ask him if to turn it off, thus letting him see that I had completed the task.

He was not complimentary. Or rather, he was impressed, but he kept asking me who had done it. 

Tom: "Oh, wow. Wow. This is nice. Who did it?"

Me: "What do you mean? I did it. Just like I said I would."

Tom: "No, you didn't. Who really did it? Is the top secured to the legs? Wow, it is. You didn't do this. In a day? No. Who did it?"

This went on and on, with him telling me how impressed he was and then in the second breath, asking who did it.

Madison: "You're not very nice, Dad. Mom did do this. I watched her!"

I had to go through everything I had done before he claimed he believed me. I'm still not sure he does. But the table looks damn good. I asked my cousin Jaimie for advice on the topcoat as I wasn't sure about the mod podge. She suggested polycrylic. I should have stuck with the mod podge. Because when I coated it with the polycrylic, the red in the decal bled. Still, the tabletop looks awesome. Now, I just need to spray paint the legs.

And buy a soda fountain.

Crushing this

I've always had crushes. In the 1970s, I was that teenager with centerfolds on my bedroom walls. Teen Beat was my jam and where my money was spent. I had mad love for Shaun Cassidy, Lance Kerwin, and Parker Stevenson.

In the 1980s, it was sports figures from our local college basketball team and the Pittsburgh Steelers and Tom Selleck. And that's also when I began to spend money on Harlequin Romance books.

By the 1990s, I'd moved to Florida and that phase of collecting crush pictures and displaying them went to the wayside. Instead, my walls were adorned with pictures of my family and friends. Then came the husband and two children and all of that worshipping of men and women I didn't know left me...

Or not. 

One of the things I truly love about this new romance writing career is that I am not alone in my outside reality love interests. In the writing groups, there is plenty of talk of crushes and who brings us inspiration. Most of the authors have hot men or women as their phone screen savers, and without fail, there is always talk of romantic television shows and the characters and actors who portray them. Suddenly, I'm no longer alone! Who cares if my desk is full of Jason photos? 

Tom: "Yeah, you have too many of those."

This summer, I began bingeing Lucifer on Netflix. Darcy watched this show years ago. Tom watched season one last year. I've seen bits and pieces through their viewing, but it took my car salesman to tell me I really needed to check it out for that to happen.

HOLY HOTNESS ALERT!! 

The lead? Tom Ellis? Where has this man been all of my life? Aiyiyi! Even now, I'm fanning myself. Move over, Jason Momoa! (Not too far, though, boo, you're still in my top three.)

I'm not sure how the show got past Fox's sensors for three years because it is sexy. When Fox abruptly canceled it, viewers began a save-the-show campaign, and Netflix picked it up. God bless Netflix. Because the difference from cable to streaming? Yum! I've currently finished season four. That's where Darcy left off, so the two of us started from the beginning so she could reacquaint with the show before we start season five. Season six, the final season, begins in September. 

Darcy: "I told you it was a show for you."

Yep, so right she was! 

Every time my friend texts me in the evening, I'm watching the show. When I took care of her dog for several overnighters, I ran through multiple episodes, texting her photos of Netflix's version of Lucifer without clothes. Uh-huh. God bless Netflix!

When my friend returned from vacation, she and her daughter brought me this gift.

I laughed so hard. Tom and Madison rolled their eyes.

Darcy: "Oh. My. God!"

This past week we had our writer's meeting, and without any prompting from me, Lucifer was brought up. I later texted a photo of my gift to one of the women and told her it was my gift for watching my friend's dog.

Her: "I'll watch her dog!"

Isn't it crazy? Suddenly, I'm right where I should be. With people who understand me. 

Never give up your dream. I've heard that forever. I'm a believer now.

Slowly coming back

Book #2 is done. Well, done as in finished in this phase. Next comes beta reading. I need three or four people to read my book, offer suggestions, slash it to smithereens if need be, and help me tighten it. I think I'm leaning toward indie publishing as opposed to traditional. The more I learn--and believe me, I've taken so many courses and attended so many conferences in the past few months--the more I see the benefit. At least for me. 

I've been out of the workforce--aka working for someone else--for almost twenty years. I don't think I could go back. My mouth would get me into trouble. And working for some kid? Like the same age as the two girls who reside in my house while I cook their meals, wash their clothes, and clean their bathroom? Yeah, trust me--my mouth would get me in trouble.

So, as of now, I'm contemplating publishing my own books. This means I need three books written and edited before distributing the first one. There's a plan in the industry, and I'm determined to follow it if I want to be successful. So, since my RAMP debut, I've worked. I've written, and re-written, and re-written. I've attended conferences. I've taken online classes. I've edited. I've edited again. And again. I've navigated the author's world of social media. I've tweeted. I've Instagramed. Now, I'm moving onto the next stage of beta reading. 

And this is my excuse for WHY I HAVEN'T BLOGGED. 

Well, that and nothing exciting has been happening in my life. I mean, I get up. I walk in the god-forsaken Florida heat and humidity. I then get in my pool and exercise some more. Or sometimes I stretch. Or read on a raft. Then I have breakfast and coffee, work on my online farm, and then go into the office to work. Once a week I run errands.

My two-month-old car only has driven 600 miles and that includes an airport drop off/pick up and a move home the kid from college several cities over. My butt is in a chair in front of two computer monitors, a keyboard, and Jason Momoa. Ever. Single. Day. Including weekends.

I'm serious about this career.

So, for those who hop on here hoping for laughter or some eye-rolling or cute stories, I'm sorry I've been missing in action. I've added the big things in our lives just to keep track. This is, after all, a journal of our lives that someday I hope my girls will appreciate. My goal is to creep back into updating this site. If you check in periodically, rest assure I'm working to come back. If you've left me altogether, well, I get it. Want a beta read a romance book instead?

Back to a family of four

The youngest is officially back home. Darcy moved back in July before she left for a two-week camp counseling job. Together, with her friend, the three of us packed and loaded the last loads from her apartment, save for a few minor things. Everything sat in our garage for over a week before the hubby called foul. Then, while Darcy was off interpreting for children camping, Maddy and I went through Darcy's stuff and made a pile of things to keep, toss, and store. Tom took the last pile to our storage unit, and little by little, I moved the keep stuff into the house.

We couldn't put it into her room because we hired our neighbor to build her a closet. Her room was an add-on room by the former house owners. To get into her room, one had to go through Madison's room. We added another door when we moved in, but we solved the closet problem by ignoring it. At the time, we were two adults. How many closets did we need?

After Darcy came along, we purchased armoirs, going up in size as she grew. Now, we're to the point where she's outgrown even those. Well, that and they aren't even made anymore. Madison designed a very nice closet design, and we begged our neighbor for help in building it. He agreed, took measurements, and then got busy in his world of kitchen remodeling. We had to wait.

Then Darcy moved home, and she went over and begged him. Really, she only accompanied Tom to the neighbor's, but her sad, pleading face must have done the trick because a couple weeks later, he said he would do the job. And he did! 

While Darcy was away at camp. It was a nice surprise for her when she came home for all of twenty-four hours. Then she was back at her apartment for job-related things. She officially moved out at the end of the month, turned in her keys, and came home.

Darcy: "The plan is to save money for a year. Here are my dirty clothes."

It's a relief to have them both under my roof. Even though it isn't what either wants. I remember. I lived at home until I moved to Florida before I turned 26. ACK! But now, kids can't afford to live alone. Not here in Florida, where rent for a decent one-bedroom is over $1500. Not during a crazy pandemic where working in person is few and far between. For now, it makes sense they come home.

Darcy is a contractual employee with five interpreting companies. She'll be doing a lot of driving. In the meantime, she's supplementing her income by becoming a barrista. Madison is back to teaching in the classroom. 

Funny how that empty nesting thing didn't last long.