finished the front room over the weekend. Fred spent most of Sunday working on the wood shed, and I spent all of Sunday painting and painting and… oh yeah! Painting. Because I love it so much, you see. On the way home we stopped at the grocery store and I got my ass (or, strictly speaking, my GUT) insulted. Hmph. We’d intended to make Monday a short working-on-the-house day, but I informed Fred that I very much wanted to have the two downstairs bathrooms painted and crown-moldinged before the guy came to do the floors (which he’ll be starting next Monday, woohoo!). Fred pulled the toilet and sink out of the small half bath off the computer room and started painting it. And it’s such a small room that he actually finished painting it, and could even have gone so far as to put up the crown molding except we didn’t want to stand around and wait for the paint to dry, so we left around mid-afternoon. Before we went to the grocery store on Saturday and I was practically told point-blank that I was FAT, we went to a supply store and looked at fencing. Basically, it ended up that we could get a Fred-installed field fence around the back yard for a quarter of what it would cost to have a professional install a chain-link fence, so I told Fred it was okay with me. And then I suggested that since we were saving so much money, we should hire a professional to replace the linoleum in the laundry room, the upstairs bathroom, and to tile the area around the bathtub/ showers in the two full bathrooms. And Fred agreed, and not only did he agree, he actually called and set up an appointment to have someone come out and give us a quote. Things are really coming together out there in Smallville, and I’m getting really excited about moving out there in a few months. On a side note, I should send the fence guy a thank you note for not bothering to show up and mark the yard for the fence we were hiring to have him put in. It gave us enough time to consider alternatives, and save a buttload of money. I just don’t get these service people who make appointments to give quotes or provide a service, then simply don’t bother to show up or ever call again. Because in the future, if someone in the area says “Hey Robyn, who do you recommend to put in a fence?”, I’ll be saying “I can tell you who I do NOT recommend, that’s for sure!” When Fred was removing the toilet and sink from the back bathroom, we decided to put the sink by the road so that if anyone driving by wanted to take it, they could. Less than half an hour later, someone knocked on the door and asked if it was okay that they take the sink. Not only did they take the sink, they took the toilet, and left their name and number for later this week when Fred removes the sink and toilet from the front bathroom. Recycling at its finest.
“I’m prettier than that cat on the bag, right? The bag of cheap cat food you only feed the cats you don’t love as much, right? MUCH PRETTIER! SAY IT! I’m the prettiest boy in the world!”
On particular days, I hold my hands before me
and silently exalt their singular growth
like they are the rigid-nylon of a yew’s bark,
a thousand-years-old, here to witness my grandmother
and her grandmother and her grandmother.
I love the mini tree-rings of my fingertips,
how I leave stump-marks everywhere I go
like the imprints of galaxies, skimmings
of the universe’s flesh and blood.
I’ve lost 151 pounds, and though you’d think I’d spend time staring at myself in the mirror, looking at the places that once were fat and no longer are, the body part that has me most fascinated is my hands. I didn’t think I had chubby hands before, but I guess you don’t weigh more than 300 pounds and have slender fingers. My largest ring size was a 10; I’m now wearing a size 6. I’m not a graceful person, but there are times I look down at my fingers, and I see a flash of grace.
If Sugarbutt’s the happiest cat in the world, I think Newt runs a very close second.