the coolest bathroom in the world...

Wow. 

Is summer break really over already? 

Where did it go?

How did it happen so fast?

Did I accomplish anything in the past three months?

What was I doing all summer long?

Oh yeah.

Now I remember...

Teamed up with my trusty, handy, super-hot, husband,

We turned this...

Into this...

Okay, seriously...scroll back up and look at that disgusting-ness again.

Dis.freaking.usting.

And it's not like we just didn't clean it. We did! A lot! It wouldn't get clean!

The floors were damaged from water and the super-cute-blue-checkered-linoleum was curling at the edges. We could only go two days after a good, deep clean before mildewy grossness started creeping up in all the corners because there was no air flow whatsoever. Unless you count the exhaust fan that, when you flipped the switch, would do nothing, not even turn on, for at least a good ten minutes. When you went to turn it off however, it kept running for maybe an hour. 

And our toilet seat...uffda! 

What an embarrassingly noisy cushioned disaster that was...

*Sit*...Poof! fsssssssssshhh!

But this...ahhhhhh...

Can't you just smell the lavender from the bath salts you know I'm gonna toss in there tonight??

So, anyway, before I make you too jealous...

That was our summer. 

We literally tore out our bathroom. Top to bottom.

Floors, walls, ceilings, plumbing, electrical, all completely redone, and all by ourselves with help from family. It was so much work, and I was so not expecting it to be that hard. In retrospect, I have no idea why I didn't think it would be that hard. But when the insulation and plaster were falling down into our eyes, and I was dodging hundred year old nails because I haven't had a tetanus in twenty years, I wanted to cry and wish it all away. I wanted to just close off the unfinished room, forget that we even started it and live with the fact that we would have to continue using this as our restroom...

(This is a toilet that is located in our freaky, creepy basement. We had to use this for almost three weeks.)

It really was miserable.

But, now it's over, and I'm happy.

Stay tuned for pictures of our temporary "shower" and a few embarrassing moments starring yours truly.

How the heck was your summer?

pen and ink...

click to enlarge.

Ps. sorry for the crappy penmanship and spelling/grammatical errors.
Pps. I love you all.

the day Lena learned a lesson...

Even dogs have bad days. 

Something embarrassing happens. 

Something painful happens. 

You hope no one saw.

But, someone did.

A few days ago, on an especially frigid wintry Wisconsin day, I let Lena out for her morning potty.

Morning potties are so much more convenient and satisfying for me now that she's almost a year old. So far in my life, there has been nothing more humbling than standing over a confused puppy while encouraging in a high, squeaky, 'you-can-do-it' voice, 

"Go potty Lena! Make a poopie! Go potty, girl!!"

All the while knowing that our sardined neighbors, having overheard me, were snickering in their warm living rooms.

Anyway. I let her out for her morning potty and went upstairs to ready myself for the day ahead. Free of an extra four legs beneath me, I put on my makeup, brushed my teeth, and tied back my hair. I went downstairs, gathered my purse and lunch, checked to make sure my keys were somewhere on my person and went down the back stairway to let Lena back in.

It was then that I heard it. Cries of anguish.

I've heard Lena cry before, obviously. Sometimes from shock or fright, other times from pain when I forget she's laying at the bottom of my feet and I accidentally squish her tail. But never like this...

She was crying, a lot. So much that, after it registered to my ears, I thought it couldn't really be her crying, she must have gotten another rabbit. It seriously sounded like an animal dying. I thought to myself, 'awesome. she got another rabbit and todd's not here to pry it from her salivating mouth...'

The crying and whimpering got worse and as I swung the backdoor open I yelled, 

"LENA!! DROP IT!!"

But, as I looked down, I did not see a limp bunny, or an unfortunate squirrel.

All I saw was my puppies' tongue, stretched out and strained.

It was frozen to the storm door.

I gasped. I yelped.

I sucked my own tongue to the back of my throat to prevent myself from the same misfortune.

With one more grueling cry, Lena pulled herself away from the storm door, and tore her tongue away from the icy aluminum.

I looked at her, my mouth agape.

She looked up at me. She looked at the door.

She licked her mouth tenderly.

And licked it again.

Without a word, I opened the door to let her in.

She panicked and backed away from the monstrosity of frozen metal that used to be the welcoming passageway for food and warmth. Eventually, and meekly, she sidestepped around the door and came back inside the house, continuously and numbly licking her lips.

Later that day, I investigated.

There on the door, a frozen web of taste buds and saliva.

An icy silhouette of a canine's bad luck.

A chilly reminder of a lesson learned:

When exploring with your tongue in sub zero temperatures, always stay away from shiny objects.

(Also, a shout-out to my mom-in-law. I owe her credit for raising such a man as my amazing husband. Mom R., thank you for birthing and raising the man of my dreams. You did an amazing job and I hope I can be as great a mom as you are some day. Thanks for sharing your son with me, he makes me so happy. Love you.)

we failed our soil test...

I am terrible at tests. Any test.

I guessed all of the answers on my SAT's (except English, which I miraculously scored 100%). I failed my motorcyclist test by getting the first four answers wrong, I refuse to take blood tests, and I wince every time I go to the eye doctor, worrying they might not believe I can't read the last line.

I am dreadful at science, history, and above all, math. I literally had to use a calculator today to determine how old I am. I'm 23. Apparently.

But, I guess I had high hopes when someone approached us wanting to test the soil on our property. I mean, soil and gardening is my thing. I love it. Whenever I'm in the garden, I feel like a woodland fairy creature , galavanting among the roses and perennials. I send secret wishes to the seeds I've started over winter, telling them to grow, and live, and produce. I gently place them in the ground and coax them into adulthood waiting for the day I can pluck their ripe fruit and toss them gingerly into my mouth.

Students from the university came by a few months ago, snatched a sample of our soil, and then sent it off somewhere to be tested. A few weeks later, the results were tucked between our front door, and I was shocked. Mortified.

Normal amounts of lead found in soil are around 400 ppm (parts per million). In the city, where all the older houses are, like ours, it's normal for them to be as high as 800 ppm.

Our levels are 2,156 ppm.

We have been advised to wipe our shoes extremely well, and take them off right away. No extended periods of playing outside, especially for dogs and kids. And definitely, don't eat the dirt!

I knew we were supposed to be careful with an older house, you know, don't eat the paint off the walls and such, but now we have to be cautious in our own backyard?

To quote some google search results:

"Soil with lead levels of 1,000 ppm or more is considered hazardous waste"

"Fetuses and small children, because of their rapidly developing nervous systems, are more sensitive to and suffer the most harm from lead exposure. Adverse effects include damage to the brain and nervous system, lower I.Q., behavior problems and slow growth. Adults may suffer cognitive decline, hypertension, nerve disorders, muscle pain and reproductive problems."

"By growing spinach for three months, researchers at the University of Southern Maine lowered the lead count in one garden by 200 p.p.m. Of course, the lead-leaching crop cannot be eaten or composted and must be disposed of as toxic waste."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Spinach is my all-time favorite vegetable, and suddenly it's been turned into a "lead-leaching-crop"! 

What are we going to do!?

I really did not anticipate to fail this test. Mother Nature is my friend, not foe. But, I guess there are only a few options for us. 

Either we sell the house, move to the country, and have soil tests performed on every potential home.

Say, "Oh well!" and risk the health of our unborn babes.

Or...

play like this:

(Future family cavorting in anti contamination suits, a space helmet, and a bubble.)

Any suggestions?