Free Robby the Robot

A few weeks ago Chris and I became the proud owners of a robot.

He's a cute little guy, who eats pine needles and dirt four times a week. It's pretty nice having Robby the Robot Vacuum. Until he forgets he's a robot and tries to become a 4x4 SUV and drive over the lamp post and gets himself stuck.

Or when he wants to become a top, and spins himself into a corner and gets himself stuck. Or when he thinks he's a bulldozer and tries to go through the cabinets and gets himself stuck.

I've become used to coming home from the gym and hearing him beep his sad tune, for me to free him.

Hold on, he's beeping again.

Sorry, he was stuck in a verticle position against the wall. I didn't ask questions.

As nice as it is to watch a vacuum clean my house while I sit on the couch and write the next great American Novel, there are a few rescue missions.

Robby has gotten himself stuck about once per clean, which isn't horrible, but you would really think he would learn not to go where he gets stuck. And I'm always able to free him.

Until yesterday.

While the downstairs is beautifully clean thanks to Robby, the upstairs has been neglected. Mostly because I do not want to haul the vacuum up the stairs. It rarely need to be cleaned as we are hardly up there and we rarely wear our shoes upstairs. So there isn't a real reason to clean.

Until yesterday.

Softball season began a couple weeks ago and we play on astro field with the black pellets which have been dubbed astroturds. The black pellets are everywhere.

I took off my socks in the garage and since I didn't dive onto the field I didn't think of shaking out my clothes of the black turds. Somehow, the astroturds took over the upstairs hallway and some debris made it's way onto the bedroom floor.

No worries! I can take Robby up there and he can clean! HOO-RAY!

No.

I'm fairly convinced Robby has the plan of "If I do this bad enough I will never have to do this again."

I was downstairs for about ten minutes when the distinct hum of the robot came to a stop. Followed by the most sad and depressing beeps you have ever heard.

I looked in the bedrooms and my office but couldn't find him. The beeping stopped, but he remained where he was. I looked under the guest bed, and no Robby.

I looked under our King size bed, and there he was. In the middle. Just out of reach from every direction.

Mind you, I can sprawl across the entire bed, finger tip to toe and still not quite reach the edge. Combine that with the low box springs (two twins) I cannot maneuver on my own, without damaging the freshly painted walls, and Robby was stuck.

He is on wheels so I thought I could push him out.

Nope. He is on robot wheels which only turn when he wants to turn them. A few jabs with the hockey stick and ski pole and Robby remained entrenched. The Tarheels would be proud.

I got clever. What would draw a vacuum out? Cookie crumbs!

I made a nice path out from under the bed, but Robby refused to take the bait.

I cleaned up the crumbs with the real vacuum. One, I didn't want ants and two, I was hoping to make Robby jealous. He's not the jealous type.

I tried to shimmy under the bed, but I could only get so far, and every time I went to pick him up with a hockey stick, the wheels remained on the ground and his body hit the box spring. Also, when I lifted him, there was no way for me to shimmy out.

I had a vision of Chris coming home and eventually drawn upstairs by Robby's beeps and my shouts; only to find my legs sticking out from under the bed.

Hi honey.

I have learned from my past mistakes, and I decided to call Chris at work only so he didn't come home to a crane in our backyard as I tried to free the Robot.

He was not helpful. I did give him a nice laugh for the day.

I was done playing game. I dove under the bed one last time and began pushing Robby one side at a time, causing him to walk towards me.

When he was finally at the edge I picked him up to see what was going on.

"Dust me off. I can't see." His message board said.

I placed him on the floor and hit the start button.

Seven minutes later there was another series of beeps. He had closed himself in the bathroom by closing the door on himself.

Robby you can take the downstairs, and I'll take the upstairs.

Happy?

Grab Your Brush and Your Rollers

Grab your brush and grab your rollers
All you kids and all you... bowlers
We're going painting today
I'm not nuts, the clip can be found here: http://youtu.be/HsMTcSMqGMc?t=1m

I have come to the conclusion that you can only stare at blank white walls for so long, before you revert back to your two-year-old self and color on the walls with crayons.

It's been nearly a year since Chris and I moved into our house. One of the things we liked the most about it when we bought it was this: white, blank walls. Compared to the 1950s wallpaper, avocado green paint, or some horrible pattern we saw in one house, white walls were perfect!

Until you spend day after day staring at white walls. It's enough to make you crazy.

I scrounged the Internet for paint colors, and every single one was boring, and if it wasn't boring it was something along the lines of Electric 80s Barbie.

Shoot me.

HGTV partnered with Sherwin Williams with "even a dummy cannot mess out these color combos." Twelve colors on one page, all with the same tone so no matter what two, or three, or seven (I might be overcompensating for white walls) colors you put in one room, they match.

Brilliant!

I scoured Pinterest, looking at professionally decorated mansions, with entry halls the size of our house. I saw rooms that were boring, plain, and not fun enough. I discovered all the fun rooms were for children.

Lame.

Then, it was like Pinterest finally figured out what I wanted, and displayed the perfect room.

It was a nursery, in Dr. Seuss theme.

I moved on. But I couldn't forget the paint scheme or colors. How could you forget that room? I love it!

Finally I gave in.

I found the paint colors (Gray is Sparrow and the white is Marshmellow by Behr and blue is True Turquoise by Glidden) and then had to beg the Home Depot paint crew it is possible for them to find the paint through Behr and Glidden's web site. And then how to remix it the next day. I'm thinking there are bigger hazards to smelling paint fumes all day, then people realize.

Two rollers, four rolling covers, plastic covering, and four paint brushes, along with two rolls of green Frogger Painters Tape came home with me along with 7 gallons of paint.

I was ready to paint!

Here is the before. White, bland, and horrible doors and wood trim I wasn't a huge fan of.

We moved everything out of the room, complete with wrestling our mattress down the hall. I decided on plastic floor cover so I could just toss it when I was done. I wasn't a huge fan of it, one it was impossible to keep it in place, especially when the heat came through the vent the plastic billowed out and pulled away from the base mouldings, and because it tore so easily. It protected the carpet, but the paint that hit it remained wet and when I stepped in it, there were shoe prints everywhere.

Day 1

Tarped and ready to go! Note the ugly brown, yuck!

 

Mouldings complete! This only took six hours and a lot of neck and back pain.

 

 

Day 2

 

Paint the white stripe on the wall. I didn't measure to well, I just started painting where I was pretty sure the white would go. I let it dry, and later that night (9:30pm) and Chris helped make sure the wall stripe was even, measuring 6 inches from the ceiling and used a square. I kept the tape taught as I followed the guide marks throughout the room.



Day 3
Finish taping (8:30 am) and begin painting!

Taped. I taped around the mouldings. You can kind of see the wall stripe through the white paint. If you paint over the tape with the color you're protecting, the other colors won't bleed as easily.

Look at that awesome tape job. :)

 

End of Day 3

 

Massive thanks to my two wonderful friends who helped me paint. First coat on the ceiling and wall. I love these colors! The day ended early to grab dinner with friends.

There was a slight mix up. The paint on the left wasn't mixed. Good job guys! No worries, I could use the right can for most of it.

Day 5
Painting completed!

Tape is gone, and all touch ups completed

Bedspread from Target, Room Essentials brand.

Love this!

The valances were sewn by a friend. Didn't she do great?!

I'm mostly done, I just have to hang picture frames (orange and green) and paint the closet doors the same gray as the walls. Which will probably happen when I move onto the guest room.

Time Traveling

I do not know how Dr. Who, the ultimate Time Lord, does it. I only had a flight across the country and cannot remember who I am, where my socks are, what skis I own, or where my lunch is.

Chris and I were FINALLY able to make it home for Christmas, the first time in four years. It was amazing! Unfortunately, I spent the two weeks in Michigan not knowing what day it was. I felt very much like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Day after the three spirits visited him.

"What day is it?!" I found myself yelling in my Scrooge impression for two long weeks. I'm sure everyone thought I was mental.

Now, a day after arriving back in Seattle I'm feeling like Rip Van Winkle. I woke up at six a.m. (nine a.m. EST) and could not force myself back to sleep. Not that I ever can, but the effort was there.

I'm not sure if it's lunch time, breakfast time, or where I left my lunch. I did find my socks in the fridge, so that is one mystery solved.

Before I left I dropped my skis off at the shop to get them tuned (sharpened and waxed) and when I went to pick them up I could not remember what skis I owned. This is very bad because I treat my skis better than most people treat their children. We figured it out. Only now, I'm fairly sure the lovely people in the shop are reporting me to the police for stealing skis.

It helps when you remember your last name. And the brand of skis.

One day I'll remember my last name is Diehl. It's only been two years.

Found my lunch, it was by my shoes.

I feel like I should put a sign on that reads: "I'm not crazy, I'm just struggling with time change."

Congratulations Dr. Who, you are the best time traveler in the galaxy. Props to you. I might have to train a bit harder to become your next assistant.

Pinterest is Ruining my life

How would one describe Pinterest?

The beauty of it is, you can't.

It's a magical place where there are recipes, memes, arts and crafts, DIY, house decorating and remodel ideas, movie quotes and posters, travel destinations, photography, and everything you could possibly be interested in, on one site.

When you find something you like, you can save it to a "board" specifically for the topic of your choice; an Internet version of a pinboard similar to what a teacher may have in their classroom, or someone who is ridiculously organized and has everything on a pinboard in their kitchen. And on that board is everything that makes you laugh, and insecure with your crafting, cooking, and organizing skills.

It also can suck you into the Internet and will never release you. I don't know how many times I've said, "I'm going to take a ten minute break, check Pinterest and continue writing." A couple hours later I close out of Pinterest and I have a half finished writing project there. But don't worry, I know what colors will work in our bedroom that receives minimal natural light. Oops.

I love my house, I love the layout, I love the openness of the downstairs. It's a great house! B

ut after wandering on Pinterest I want to rip out closets and make reading nooks. I want to repaint the entire house, and replace drywall with an exposed brick wall. I want to redo every room seven times over, because there are so many rooms on Pinterest I love.

There was a concern about our yard and me with a shovel. I think there needs to be a bigger concern about me, the house, and Pinterest.

Whenever Chris went out of town when we were in the apartment I rearranged furniture. I'm thinking if he ever goes out of town, I'm redoing the house.

The conversation when he returns will probably go something like this:

Chris: Why is there a hole in the roof?
Mo: I wanted a skylight.
Chris: Why is there a hole in the wall?
Mo: I wanted to make a bay window with shelves for a reading nook.
Chris: Why is our kitchen completely and totally destroyed?
Mo: I wanted to refurnish the cabinets, and install new counters, and replace the floors with this crazy all natural moss like thing that works like Disney Channel's Original Movie Smart House where the floors absorb EVERYTHING!
Chris: Why is our house leaning?
Mo: I saw this really cool idea on Pinterest where you take out a wall and you get more natural light
Chris: I'm never leaving you alone in the house again

It probably would never get to the point I was able to take out an entire wall, but you never know.

But one thing I am going to do, if Chris ever leaves me home alone without a babysitter after reading this, is decorate my closet like Narnia and every time I open the closet door I can be in Narnia. Also, I'm going to make the door to my office look like a bookshelf so I can have a hidden room. If I have enough time, after I tie up my babysitter, I'm knocking out the ceiling in our Room of Requirement and building bookshelves from the floor to the roof in the attic.

Okay, who wants to kidnap Chris for a weekend and who wants to help me remodel?

It's the Holiday Season

Happy Holidays everyone!

Yes, I do say holidays because within six weeks there is Thanksgiving, Chanukah/Hanukkah (dec 8-16), Christmas and New Years and I cannot combine them into anything pronounceable. The closest I have is Happy Thankskahmasear. I have enough issues with word pronunciation, I don't need to make it harder on myself.

I have found the perfect way to celebrate Thanksgiving. Allow your mother to call you in July and say she and your father are coming for Thanksgiving. Make sure she and your sister will be doing the cooking (this is essential). Then invite friends over and assign them to bring something. All I had to do was unlock the front door. Perfect!

A Detroit Lions loss (shocker), seventeen people, ten bottles of wine and several beers later it was a party!

There were several flippings of the bird, both fingers and the turkey; a threat of fire, and only eight chairs. We were surrounded by good friends and good food, it was perfect.

The best part of Thanksgiving? It gives way into the Christmas season. I no longer have to secretly listen to Christmas music in my car or through headphones. I am able to play my favorite Christmas movies on the large screen instead of my laptop and I get to wear my Elf hat.

There is tons of candy and Chex's Puppy Chow (if you call it Muddy Buddies you do not deserve presents this year).

The stockings are hanging by the chimney with care, with lovely garland with lights on the mantle.

The perfect corner for the perfect tree is empty.

The tree substitute with its teeny tiny tree-like-shaped-thing that fits in a small corner and holds ornaments is up in the kitchen. I'm still angry about the stupid fake impostor with its stupid plasticness. I'm not going to rant again, if you missed it last year here it is.

The upside to the fake tree this year?

We get to go home for Christmas this year. This is the first time since I moved out here I will be returning home for Christmas. And there better be snow!

As per tradition the day after Thanksgiving the Christmas lights went up on the house. It was your typical lights on the house adventure. Me trying not to fall off the roof in the pouring rain. I'm not a fan of heights. My fear of heights has been decreased to a dislike. So you put me on the roof in the rain, and I am not going to be moving very fast.  It  was a slow and steady process until I said the gutters were overflowing. Not surprising as we were out in the pouring rain.

My goal for lights to be on both levels of the house went out the window when my dad and husband began cleaning out the gutters as we attached the lights to the house.

As Chris and I attached lights my dad put his hand in the nasty gutter and came up with a handful of gunk. Chris did the same. I was not putting my hand in there. There could have been a crocodile. Probably not. Most likely a swamp monster.

I continued hanging lights, Chris took the peak over the garage and my dad began to rake out the gunk.

Then Chris began to rake out the gunk on the upper level of our roof. He did not take lights up there with him. I finished my strand, my dad fastened to the shingles since I couldn't lift the shingles off the roof (there may or may not be a leaking roof later).

Cold and wet I went inside to decorate.

Chris and my dad made it their goal to fix the gutters. For the most part it is fixed, thanks to a scrap piece of wood from our neighbors. Don't worry they already know we're weird.

Lights are up. Gutters are working, and now we begin the Christmas Season with some lights and music. In the words of the Muppets:

It's time to start the music. It's time to light the lights!

Messing with Squirrels

I think I've written about the two squirrels who like to hang out in our backyard. Steve the Squirrel greeted us the first morning in our house with a pine cone on the patio next to our glass sliding door. Since that morning I've been greeted by Steve in one way or another.

There have been times where it looks like he is almost peering into our house. And there are times where he and his mate (gay marriage is allowed in Washington, and we don't discriminate in our house) have gotten a little frisky. I'm telling you, they have no shame.

As I cleaned up the backyard this past summer, Steve kept a watchful eye on my movements. If I got to close to one of his hiding places he would squawk and leap down from his tree and quickly dig it up and rebury it elsewhere. Depending on what I was doing he had to rehide his food storage up to seven times in a day.

He never complained.

On Tuesday of this week we removed three large trees. Okay, we personally did not. We found a limit to my ability with shovel and hatchet; and 100ft trees is that limit. Two trees were side heavy and leaning towards our house. The third was leaning towards the street.

Normally, Steve spends most of his time running up and down the trees and then backflipping when he hit the ground. He's a funny little squirrel.

As I sat on the couch watching the 21st century's take on lumberjacks (hoodies and cargos, with chainsaws and harnesses) cut down trees from the top and feeling the tree's trunk sections hit the ground with a large thump, causing the couch and house to shake, I looked at Chris and asked, "What about Steve?"

We didn't see Steve that day. I'm not sure what his exit plan is for his trees being cut down. But whatever it is, it kept him alive.

Once the trees were down, and the branches chipped and chopped through the chipper chopper the arborists left. Tree removal companies do not remove the wood that used to be a tree; instead they partner with firewood companies to come out and remove the old tree trunks.

Before the wood removal/collector came yesterday afternoon, Steve and his mate made an appearance. Unfortunately for them, the nuts they buried in the backyard were under several thousand pounds of former trees. This did not stop them.

Steve pushed, pulled, and hopped around the fallen trunks, with no success. Steve went so far as to try to burrow under it while his mate tried to pull the log up.

Not going to lie, Disney got the facial expressions of squirrels struggling to lift something much larger and heavier than themselves. I think they spent most of the morning trying to figure out how to get to their food stash.

The wood removal person who liked to think there were multiple people with him at all times showed up about noon.

"Hey! We're here!"

There was one of him, but I wasn't about to point that out to the guy who is going to clean up the yard.

He asked if we had dogs, and I told him no, but there were a couple squirrels who like to hang out in the backyard and could possibly be among the wood piles.

He said he could handle a couple squirrels.

I went inside and about fifteen minutes later I hear him screaming, followed quickly by him shouting, "It's just a squirrel, just a squirrel!" And there was Steve and his mate sitting on logs squawking at him.

For the record, I did warn him.

After all the logs were cleaned up, Steve and his mate came down from the remaining trees and promptly dug up and rehid their food.

I'm afraid to see what they do when we relandscape the yard this spring. The creatures are probably going to have a conniption.

Oh, here is our backyard.

 

 Before

 

 

 

The logs Steve and his mate tried to move, unfortunatley I couldn't get them in the photo

 

The finished yard



We have so much more light, and the yard seems a lot bigger. I just hope Steve and his mate aren't to angry.

Mo vs. The Dog(s)

Let me begin by saying I love dogs. I will leave conversations to go pet a dog, and if one happens to be a puppy I have thrown myself onto the floor to snuggle with it. Yes, these are strangers' dogs. Yes, I am strange to the dogs. It's fine. It's fine.

I have always had dogs around. Either my parents have owned a dog or a family member has owned a dog. My first word was dog. Me and canines go way back.

So it is sad to say, I am declaring war on dogs. It breaks my heart, it really does.

So why am I declaring war on dogs?

Because I have neighbors who believe our yard is meant for their dog's use. Sure, there's grass there but that doesn't make it fair use for your dog. You have a toilet but you don't see me going over to your house and using it everytime. And if I did, I wouldn't flush, because it's the same thing you and your dog are doing.

Yes, I am aware that is a horrible argument. I am also aware I have possibly gone mental. It's fine. It's fine.

Because I have rude neighbors who think it is fun to throw balls into my yard for their dogs to retrieve, I am constantly picking up dog poop.

Chris and I live on a corner and about a three foot width of side yard between the sidewalk and privacy fence, and it is about fifteen feet long before it meets our front yard. It is in this 3x15ft stretch of yard that dogs love to drop giant deuces.

This is the main chore on why I never wanted a dog.

It was bad enough having to clean up after the puppy who pooped in her crate while we were gone during the day. My sister and I pushed and shoved the crate out the door and hosed it down with dish soap and a hose.

I found reasons to not have to pick up dog feces with a shovel when I was growing up. The main reason? I would puke upon the smell of dog poop. Guess what? That hasn't changed. Yup, one hole for my neighbors' dog poop and one hole for Mo's lunch.

It's awesome.

Talk to your neighbors you say. Oh, I have. One neighbor told me to ring their doorbell anytime there is poop and they'll pick it up. And guess what? They do. Way to be a nice responsible neighbor. You can have a cookie.

My other neighbor with a dog is the champion of saying, "F you" without saying it. She is also the champion of saying "F you" while she tells you she will make sure it doesn't happen. But guess what. Her dog is constantly using our yard as his toilet.

I have talked with her. I have begged her. I have called animal control on her. Apparently, Animal Control only cares if they dog is about to bite me while he poops. No, I told them, I am about to bite the dog. They advised against it.

Neighbors who live next door to Pooper and have since they all moved in when the houses were brand new (1975) have taken sympathy and have also talked to the woman who has been in the house since it was built about the poop. That hasn't worked.

Apparently, she is a nice woman. Apparently, she's had a tough life. Apparently, she is crazy. Apparently, she is a self centered woman who should still be in kindergarten learning what "STOP DOING THAT!" means.

The neighbors have told me to just put the poop back in her front yard. So I pick it all up and march it across the street and place it nicely in her yard. While I feel better, it isn't solving the problem.

Everytime I go outside while she is out with her dog she goes inside. I ring the doorbell and she doesn't answer. I have even gone out with the shovel and picked up poop while she's been outside and asked where she would like her dog's poop.

She ran inside.

Before we moved into the house our realtor advised we go and talk to the neighbors. I talked to a couple. They all told me how nice the neighbors are and how the neighborhood is great and safe. I asked about shady dealings like meth houses or pot labs. None.

There were no pedophiles and no crime.

You know what people don't talk about? Dogs pooping in other yards.

So now I am trying to figure out how I can keep the dog out of our yard. I can redo the landscaping and move trees to be close to the sidewalk. I can install a motion sensor sprinkler that squirts everything that walks by with water (I don't want to take out people running and walking by).

I can use old school recipes like baking soda and water. Or use coffee grounds (new or used) and sprinkle them on the yard. Or I can wait for the allegedly old dog to pass away from the giant tumor on his chest.

Seriously, I am open to suggestions. I really don't want to bite the dog.