I’ve written before about anticipating the installation of a new stove, and nothing happens quickly over the holidays. It’s probably a good thing though, since the time elapsed has given me a chance to think (again) about how much I hate the disgusting tile on my kitchen island… right next to the awful avocado green stove.
So yesterday, I took Gamma to Home Depot to look at other tile options — thinking that even 12×12 tiles would be better, having fewer yucky grout lines.

It was amazingly inexpensive. For less than $100, I could change out the cheezy 1970’s porcelain tile for a soothing marble… so we toted it home. Fortunately, it was very warm yesterday, so we put the top down on the mustang to accommodate the necessary 10′ lengths of tile edging.

Waiting while Hubby tinkered with his lawnmower before heading out to the home of some friends for what was billed as “family game night,” I started taking up the despised, old tile.

Once I got started, it went very quickly!

Of course, home improvement is never simple or straightforward… once I got all the tile up, it was apparent that there was some water damage to the underlying particle board. That, and a whole lot of leftover adhesive.

We left it at that last night, had a thoroughly good time until about 3 a.m., then caught a few hours of sleep before getting the whole family to church then returning Alpha to UT this afternoon.

On the way home, we stopped at Home Depot again for a new piece of particle board (it’s something else really, but serves the same purpose with a smoother surface). After removing the old particle board, we noticed a couple of support pieces that needed replacing… so it was off to the woodshed for a suitable piece or two.

I managed that part, then dear Hubby decided it was time to take over the power tools.

By 11 p.m., we had the new base installed. I’ve laid all the tiles out on the surface to see where some will have to be cut around the stove opening; Hubby is asleep and I need to be, but the new tile needs to be laid before morning, so that it can cure for the requisite 24 hours before the stove is installed Tuesday morning.

His new Roto-Zip worked like a champ in cutting out the hole for the stove.

The kitchen looks like a war zone, and the kids had to make Ramen noodles in the microwave. At least tomorrow is pizza night, unless I can talk Hubby into trying the Time Out Deli instead.

Tuesday evening, I’m going to fix something really good to show them it was worth the trouble.

Not sure how accurate this thing is… there were several questions I could have answered either way, or where there was no good answer for me.

Your Brain is 33% Female, 67% Male

You have a total boy brain Logical and detailed, you tend to look at the facts And while your emotions do sway you sometimes… You never like to get feelings too involved

As the last few days of 2006 are winding down, so is everything else — except for what’s winding up to a new start.

After being out of town for the week before Christmas, then the flurry of activity for the holiday followed by a houseguest for a few days, my corner of the world has been quiet for a few hours; I slept for eleven of them. During the busy part, I also cut off my participation at the Oak Ridger forums — not because I can’t hang with a good argument, but because the most basic rules no longer apply.

I can only guess that the moderator, who fell into the job when Shane left, views it as extra work that he doesn’t really want. So, if he lets it die, then he need be bothered no more.

In the “winding up” category, there’s a new local blog at www.viewfrommanland.com — former forum regular Daco has begun writing on his own. I’m really looking forward to that one as a daily read, because he brings an interesting perspective on a variety of issues. Sometimes we agree, and sometimes we don’t, but the conversation is never dull.

What else will 2007 bury, and what will it bring? In the outgoing category is Saddam Hussein; hopefully our national leaders will get a handle on the whole Iraq thing and get us out of there without surrender. I had high hopes that with the brutal dictator gone, the Iraqi people would rise to the challenge of building a democracy that works for them, but it appears that they cannot. The tribal struggle of centuries (or millennia?) seems to continue in spite of our efforts.

The lesson here that we can’t seem to learn is to not get into a war unless we intend to win. That means killing people and blowing things up. If that’s not the objective, then we probably shouldn’t be there.

I’m hopeful that 2007 will bring an end to the corruption we saw in state government this year. I’m skeptical of the various laws and commissions created for that purpose, as it was already illegal to be corrupt — several legislators are now serving prison sentences, with more scheduled for trial over the next few months.

Most elected officials are not corrupt. Getting rid of the bad ones will allow those who remain to do a better job, although I fear that some of the new regulations may prove so cumbersome as to cause good people to decide it’s just not worth the hassle. Case in point: I received a letter yesterday from the Tennessee Ethics Commission as notification that I have to file form SS-8005 by January 31 or face up to $10,000 in fines. That’s on top of the disclosure of interests that I already file with the school system, along with financial disclosures every few months to the local election commission, even during those years when there’s no campaign activity whatsoever — nothing raised, nothing spent.

Despite the added paperwork burden, hopefully 2007 will bring additional electronic access to government records. Not just the stuff filled out by officeholders, but actual records of what the government is doing and has done.

* * *

Around here, 2007 will also bring the installation of my new stove on January 9. I’ll finish clearing out the room formerly known as my office (translation: storage bin) and replacing the gross purple carpet to create a bedroom of her own for Delta.

My dear brother-in-law, PJ, is visiting for a couple of days; he’s one of my favorite people, but one who’s suffered a terrible run of bad luck lately.

A couple of weeks ago, he was rear ended mid-block by a woman on a cell phone, who 1) lied about her name, address, and insurance info, and 2) left the scene when he went to call the police. Fortunately, he did get her tag number, but it took a couple of weeks (as does anything in mid to late December) to get anything going with an insurance estimate.

Not sure what’s going to happen with the police, concerning her leaving the scene and lying about her identity.

He drove down here in a rental car, and we did a little car-shopping — okay, several hours’ worth — to find a replacement vehicle in the $4,000 range. Having found one that seemed quite suitable (a 1996 model with only 65,000 miles, in like-new condition), we came to the point of trying to figure out how to take ownership.

PJ hasn’t yet collected the insurance settlement, what with the whole holidays disruption. In theory, he has to go back to Maryland to pick it up, but the car guy desperately wanted to make a sale. PJ would greatly prefer to drive the car home and turn in his rental here, rather than drive the rental home, pick up the check, and drive back in the rental to get the car. So, car guy baited him with some story about how they could draw up a sale agreement that converted to a rental agreement if he didn’t get a check to them (probably via FedEx) within the designated time.

After an hour or so, they all headed back to the finance manager’s office. I started getting the heebie-jeebies (damn, where’s AT’s heebijeebinex when I need it?) when I saw three car goons in the glass-windowed office with PJ. After probably three inches of knit-one-pearl-one on the scarf I’m working on, PJ said he needed us in the office.

The lead car-goon, with thick lips reminiscent of the guy who played the evil nazi who faced off against Indiana Jones, started off making a speech about how they needed to finance the vehicle since it would be leaving the state, and how they didn’t have any banks willing to make loans that small, and we (hubby and I) could just write a check blah blah blah…

Yeah, right. If we wrote a $4,000 check today, there’d be no tuition for Alpha in a week or so. I’m not risking that for anyone.

The heebiejeebies got the better of me, and I just got up and walked out. Hubby handled the rest; all of my experience with car guys (save one who owns a dealership) has been exceedingly negative. When I see them team up three to one, building the strong arm tactics and pressure, I’m outta there.

I had the definite impression they were trying to do something underhanded, but we left with papers indicating they will hold the car for PJ, but without the car. I don’t know if he can get the insurance settlement sent to an office here, or if he’ll actually have to go home and come back again.

Why does buying a car from a dealership have to be such a sleazy experience?

Waiting for Christmas delayed is a tough thing… even for adults.

These days, the highlight of Christmas is seeing joy on the faces of others — especially the kids. I also got a kick out of helping my dad figure out his new digital camera (a gift from my youngest sister, who wasn’t there this year).

My gift is one of necessity: days before the Oak Ridge Utility District‘s grand opening of their new offices and showroom, my old stove — the last of the 33-year old avacado-green appliances in my house — began to die. Handyman Hubby’s quick inspection of a burned-out burner revealed that the wiring was decayed, meaning that the others are likely to go soon.

Not to mention the whole thing being a fire hazard.

I’ve wanted a gas stove for 20 years, but as with the rest of the items i wanted to upgrade, I waited until they needed to be replaced anyway. So, a couple of weeks before Christmas, we ordered it — providing the perfect excuse to buy Hubby a Roto-Zip (which he’s admired for a few years), so he could enlarge the inset in my ceramic-topped island to fit the new stove.

I thought surely it would come in the week before Christmas, and be ready to install the week after. But, apparently there’s been a run on new gas appliances with the opening of ORUD’s new showroom, and it’s not in yet.

So hard to be patient.

My mother thinks I’m crazy; she grew up with a gas stove (the kind you had to light with a match), and thinks that having a solid-surface electric model is the ultimate in appearance and ease. But have you ever heard anyone say, “now we’re cooking with electricity?”

Gamma and Delta were terribly concerned that they hadn’t done any Christmas shopping, so I woke them at 2:30 this morning for a trip to Wal-Mart. Anyone who knows me knows that I can’t do WallyWorld during the day between Thanksgiving and Christmas; the crowd is more oppressive than Neyland Stadium at a Florida game.

Only more hostile.

Even at 3 a.m., the store was far from empty, but they each procured a load of items (with me wandering about on my own, to preserve their secrecy). Afterward, we had a little quality time with breakfast at Waffle House. I couldn’t believe how many people were there — only two booths were unoccupied in the whole place at about 4 a.m.

I helped Delta wrap when we returned home, adding to the festivity under the tree.

*   *   *

Now, in the quiet house where everyone else is sleeping, I think back to the point of last week’s visit to my mother-in-law.  Yes, it’s true that we stayed in an Inn; there are too many of us to invade her house, and having us all underfoot around the clock is stressful to her.  We visited for several hours each day, with hubby helping his brother clear briars from the blueberry patch, and even Delta helping a little in pruning the apple trees.  Mostly, she rode the ATV around, clipping a stray branch now and then… but at least she participated.

Grandma is more frail than last summer, moving from her armchair only to go to bed at night.  She’s consumed with worry over things she cannot control — a custody battle for one son, another who’s home alone for the holidays, and another with a significant challenge ahead… it’s only the oldest, my hubby, with no worries to contribute to the mix.

I tried to bring cheer, offering to decorate for Christmas (there’s not even a tree), but she didn’t want the bother of taking it down when we’re gone.  I baked cookies and a big pot of homemade soup for her, but even that didn’t seem to help much.

I can’t fix what’s really wrong: she’s old, and she doesn’t like it.  She’s always been a worrier, but in years past, she could do something about it… now, she hasn’t the strength to do anything but sit in the chair and fret.

It’s Christmas Eve, traditionally a time of joy, excitement, and celebration.  This year’s events have made me keenly appreciative of what I have — a strong, loving marriage, wonderful children, dear friends, a warm home, and enough to eat.

I guess that’s what tugs at my heart for my mother-in-law: her husband passed away, she worries about her wonderful (adult) children, she doesn’t see her friends anymore since she seldom leaves the house, and she’s dependent on her youngest son to shop and cook for her, meaning she probably doesn’t always eat what she would if she were still cooking for herself.

I married into a great family… I only wish that somehow I could have brought more happiness to them last week.  However, Brother PJ should be arriving sometime today, and he’s easy to cheer up.

Thanks to the discovery of a new route, we made it home in record time — thirteen hours, commencing about 10 p.m. last night in a cold, driving rain.  I wish I’d snapped a couple of pictures along the way, but for the first I didn’t reach my camera in time, and for the second, well, I was driving.

Northern Indiana takes the prize for best Christmas decorations, in the stretch along Hwy. 31 from South Bend to Kokomo.  There were some businesses and residents who really went all-out, and it wasn’t tacky.  It was beautiful.  I admire the tractor dealer who actually put a life-size nativity scene on their lawn, and spelled out “Our Savior King” in lights across the roofline.

These days, that takes some courage.

Northern Kentucky had the most breathtaking sunrise this morning; leafless branches seemed to float up from a fog that drifted across rolling  pastures, as they sky cast pastel hues upon the scene.

The worst visibility was a tie between northern Michigan (had the rain been snow, it would be measured in feet) and southern Kentucky, where the fog on the interstate was so dense that it looked very much like driving in a snowstorm.  Crossing Jellico Mountain, the sun shone as brightly as in July, and Tennessee looked as good to me as it ever has.

It’s sure good to be home.

Even as a young child, I wondered if words created the same images for all people, and if those images were based on anything real, or just randomly associated.
Watching Harry Potter movies the other night (we’ve read all the books until the spines are worn and limp), I noted to Delta that some of J.K. Rowling’s made-up words actually look sort of like other words — words that create a specific picture. Diagon Alley, the mythical shopping place for wizardly books and school supplies, brings to mind something not quite on the straight and narrow — diagonally, to be precise. Even the characters’ names seem to fit, with Snape sounding like “snake” (fitting, for the headmaster of Slytherin) and the evil Malfoy family: Draco, looking and sounding like a little blond dracula; Lucius, with a name reminiscent of Lucifer; even the last name itself, beginning with “mal,” a prefix meaning bad.

Reading about reactions to the Iraq Study Group report prompted a slideshow of mental images as well… somehow, someone with the last name Talabani doesn’t elicit any feelings of trust. Neither does Al-Maliki (which sounds like Malachai, the name of the most evil character in Children of the Corn).
In Freakonomics, Steven Levitt explores the relationship between children’s names and their professional prospects. The reasoning is likely along the same lines: we associate images — good or bad — with the printed and spoken word.

Sixteen days until Christmas, and I’m… not ready. But I am getting into the holiday spirit, at least a little.

Hubby has never been slave to watch, clock, or calendar, so some things just happen when they happen. Like birthday presents (purchased well ahead of time, I would note, but left hidden for a couple of extra days for good measure).

But today, the present finally appeared — following some prompting from the children, who wanted cookies, but were put off because my old hand mixer makes noises like it’s about to explode and send shrapnel all over the kitchen. The birthday replacement is a KitchenAid Classic stand mixer, which has already helped to produce a loaf of gingerbread, peanut butter cookies, and my personal favorite, soft gingerbread cookies.

With extensive help from Gamma (the only person in the house with any talent for decorating), I also got the Christmas tree up. No ornaments yet, but it’s up, it has lights and an angel, and there are a couple of pretty presents beneath.

Delta thinks the presents are fake, BTW. It’s the best bet for ensuring that there is no shaking or sneaky unwrapping.

As the snow flurries fly, I’m thinking about Hawaii, and about the survivors who have gathered there, perhaps for the last time.

They’re old now, but 65 years ago today, most were the same age as my oldest child (now a freshman at UT). They’ve gathered today — as they do on this date every five years — not to enjoy the sun, the sand or bikinis, but to remember the most awful day they ever knew: a beautiful sunny morning in Hawaii, ripped apart in the early morning hours by the Japanese surprise attack.

A day when 2,390 of their mostly teenage and young-twenties colleagues died.

I remember still how my maternal grandfather reacted to this anniversary. Days shy of his 38th birthday at the time, with toddlers at home (his first three children were killed in an accident before the other six were born), he was far from Pearl Harbor. Nonetheless, he remembered the day with solemn reserve for the rest of his days.

As is my habit, I will watch the movie again. It’s my birthday treat (yes, ha ha, I was born on the day that will live in infamy), though likely rather late this evening after a Christmas party and the ORHS band concert.

While I watch, I’ll enjoy a special treat courtesy of Realtorchick… seems fitting for a woman of my vintage.