Electrical Schizophrenia......

......was in my blood. Ever since my youth. Hated working with electricity. Hubs here again.....and when I was five, my Dad had me lick the contacts of a 9-volt battery to feel the weird sensation on my tongue...I'm still not a fan. Ever seen the "The Muppet Movie"? Some evil doctor guy puts some kind of brain-sucking helmet on Kermit and juices him with electricity that makes his eyes glow yellow....it's horrible.

My wiring knowledge basically stemmed from a line in a Boy Scout Skit I saw at a Scout camp, where a scout yelled in Cheerleader fashion POSITIVE! NEGATIVE! PUT'EM TOGETHER- POW!

Fast forward 14 years....time to play electrician. Took out the main light in the kitchen (it was old and well....rather grimy lookin'), and this is what greets me:

Ahem, .....Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the Devil's 110 Volt Toenails:

Felt like throwing something and yelling something and cryin' my eyeballs out. Might scare the girls though. But seriously...try and tell me which wire is Black and which wire is White??? With like FOUR Wires instead of two???

Thus, my disorder.

*Schizophrenia is a mental disorder that makes it difficult to tell the difference between real and unreal experiences (Find a happy place, sing a happy song, they're not real......Dang it they are!), to think logically (ain't nothin' logical about that pic....one bit), to have normal emotional responses (throwing/yelling something, cryin' my eyeballs out), and to behave normally in social situations (Boy what a pickup line that would make - "I think my house is infected with the Devil's toenails and I think they're trying to zap me").... *www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001925

Well, no turning back. I studied Google (which knows all), studied all diagrams with the light switches and outlets we bought. Shut off any spark of voltage even close to the kitchen. Might have prayed a tiny bit. Got my paper envelope schematics I'd made (I am a technical prodigy). And ventured to the Attic.

Not a favorite place of mine. Full of insulation (Evil Pillow Feathers) that itch, and unless you're wearing a mask you're going to breathe something that will make you wish for exhaust fumes. Really tight spaces too....I'm a bit Claustrobic. With Electrical Schizophrenia. Get me a Shrink Vacation Please?

I get done with my prayerful guesswork and warn the wife. "Hun, I'm turning the breaker on again, just watch and listen for any cracklin', melting wires, sparks flyin', and smell for smoke." I am so confident.

**after picture to follow with our kitchen reveal. 

To my grand amazement, I flip the switch on the breaker, and nothing. Nothing? Really? Nothing. Not one sizzle. I flip the switch for our makeshift light.....and WHAMMO!! It's glowing a beautiful halogenic soft white. My heart wipes tears of joy and my nerves are doing grand finale fireworks. Seriously? The first try? Yep. That's how it rolls here. Sometimes. I'm fairly well cured. And I clipped the Devil's toenails. 

There are some questions that some men......

...not all men....but some, like me, have trouble with. Hubs here again. I promised to post on my condition I suffer from about about Electrical Schizophrenia . More on that to come later. Men, if you're reading this, enjoy. Ladies, the same. And if your man isn't not reading this, get him too and see if he agrees with me or not. Now I do dishes, vacuum, clean toilets, laundry, I introduced Barkeepers Friend (not a paid endorsement, just a favorite cleaning supply) into the marriage, and I changed our child's first diaper. You could say I'm domesticated. But when asked about a Chevron and Houndstooth, Chevron is a gas station. Houndstooth is a dog's tooth.

I'm talking about asking for his opinion on something, specifically a design something. Now don't get me wrong, occasionally I have the strong opinion and it's pretty clear when I do. "Do you like this rug" she asks. If I think it looks like they tarred and feathered an animal and are trying to sell it to me, I will say "Nope I don't", and keep walking. "Why?" she says. "Because it looks like they tarred and feathered something and are trying to sell it to us". So the occasional strong opinion happens. But 87.26% of the time, this isn't the case.

You see while I have great taste in music, sports, art, cultural, food, cars, yes-homes, dogs, travel, photography.....I'm a seasoned and cultural and basically well developed individual....I can scream across a lake in a small catamaran sailboat with one hull out of the water-that takes a great taste of adventure. But there are many things I have basically no taste in whatsoever, 87.26% of the time. Take the following example: Wall Stencils.

I was once asked by my lovely wife which wall stencil I liked best. Can't remember what they looked like so I'm using these as an example. "What about this one" she says. "Looks great" I reply with the 12.74% of feeling I can really really summon with all of my soul. "What about this one?"....."Yup that's great too, they all look great*." *Translation- I cannot get into my manly soul and really really find any fiber of my being that loves one more then the other.

It's like what I call, The Salt Analogy. To me, salt is salt is salt. When I go to a restaurant, I don’t ask, "Well, did the cook use gourmet designer all-natural sea salt hand picked by mermaids from sparkly waters in the Caribbean? Or was it the leftovers from a goat salt lick"

Ladies, if you want the truth, then threaten with money.....after he says "looks great", throw down a zinger like “Ok well then I’m gonna buy this one” (say it like you mean it so he’s thinkin: ok, that train is leaving the station for good unless I blow the whistle NOW), and if there is no response, you’re in the clear. Only ask once, because it's really against our mortal nature to muster even 12.74% of passion for a wall stencil, and he’s seeing a ray of hope that the decision process is over. Further inquiries will only further induce him into his design decision coma. For you ladies, it’s like asking you which golf club to buy your man for a present. Betcha you may not have known that there’s a lob wedge, sand wedge, pitching wedge, and when I was a kid I didn’t have any of those so I used a nine iron. What’s the difference?? Much difference there is indeed, and it can make or break the ensuing level of frustration following the shot. Either he’s throwing the golf club into the lake, or kissing it afterwards. I fall into the first category.

SO the lesson is, if it looks great it looks great and you'll never hear us complain, and we are so grateful that you get it right 87.26% of the time with us.**

And I wanna hear about your experiences about decisions and stuff, so comment away.  Let's start a revolution and get this Mars and Venus stuff figured out!  Electrical Schizophrenia to come soon.

My Hubby is Funny...

So if you haven't read the last post...you should.  It was written by the Hubs and I have to say...he had me giggling out loud.

I married a funny funny man.

But for now...I will leave you with a picture.  We bought our countertops over the weekend.

This one makes me happy.

via

That is totally the color we're staining our butcherblock.  

So pretty.

Someone was smokin' somethin when......

...they invented Lath and Plaster.

Hubs here...the hot one in the mask.  I bring to you the raw perspective.  The...how shall I say this...male viewpoint.  Yup, I'm a guy and this is my side of the story.  Ladies and gentlemen...listen up.  Lets start with lath and plaster. Seriously awful stuff. From the Stone Age.  Caveman cake. After the wheel....came Lath and Plaster. It worked for a while I guess. Until some genius came along and invented SHEETROCK!!!! Wahoo what a revelation!!! A few good ideas from the 20th century....like, Let's land on the moon! Let's drink some Tang! Let's drive instead of walk! Let's send some electronic mail! And Let's build houses with Sheetrock!!!

Unfortunately for me, we decided to pulverize a wall out of our kitchen which revealed the aforementioned Lath and Plaster (hereafter referred to as the devil's playdough- aka DP). This freed up about 2 feet of extra space in our kitchen, which is totally magical. We don't have to suck our tummies in when squeezing by the table and stove. SaWeet!!!

So! What's so bad about that you say? Three words, the DEVILS PLAYDOUGH. Here's why: You hit the stuff with a sledgehammer and it crumbles to the ground (which feels good). BUT when it hits the ground, it breeds like gremlins and rabbits! Seriously! One hit, and you've got a pile a foot high to clean up! Impossible you say? Well, from a section of 2 walls 8ft by 8ft (yeah, that is kind of a lot), we filled about SEVEN HUGE Garbage cans full!!! I had a garbage can parked in my kitchen for three weeks!!! (Thanks Ogden Recycle Bins) And now, until we get a dumpster (duh, I know, but we didn't), it's in my backyard. Piled high, and probably breeding still. Darn DP.

Side note on knocking down walls.....scariest thing I've practically done. I would have felt more comfortable walking through a drive through in winter with my speedo on....at least I would've known what to expect (wore those things in High School.....on the swim team, not so much in public). The wife says "just get up in the attic and look". For what exactly? The one 2x4 that's saying, "I'm holding the roof, don't kill the wall beneath me!". "I'm not gonna do it" I said. Partner in crime Scott (Brother in Law) agreed, and was scared too. Thought we were half crazy. You see, when your contractor (Wife) got her license from Google, oh yeah, we felt like pros. We looked about seven times and saw that indeed, there was nothing above this wall but insulation (which feels like evil pillow feathers when it's falling from the ceiling).

*So we did it.

And yes, we survived. So did our house.

BUT later that night, still shaken by our bold steps, you hear funny noises. This happened to be New Years Eve when firecrackers were going off outside, which sound VERY MUCH like BEAMS SPLINTERING TO LITTLE PIECES. Got our hearts going a little. For a split second I thought, gonna run to the nursery, grab the baby, jump out of a crumbling building, and come back for the wife.

But happily it did not come to that, and the kitchen remodel is coming along. Will be doing a post on overcoming electricity schizophrenia next week. And until then, for all of you happy re-modelers out there, enjoy your Sheetrock.

*Disclaimer: Get help if you can't determine which walls are load bearing or not. Get help. Anywhere you can. It's worth the peace of mind. And so your house won't implode.