D Selby Designs

I used to lose November. Now, it’s February.

The tilers are here and loudly doing their thing, but the studio’s really coming together. Daniel and Abraham did an amazing ‘finishing’ job with crown molding and shelves, including a cat walk shelf connecting all of the windows (photo, previous blog entry). Now, Isaac and his crew are laying the tile and I don’t need to tax my imagination any further: it’s a visible, evolving studio!

Carey and Yvonne have been visiting, occupying sofas by night, and we had a big dinner amidst the dust in the kitchen with Zach and his friend, Sara on Tuesday night. Granny was at her best, new hairdo and all. Yvonne was so sweet to insist on after-dinner Scrabble, when the original plan was for the young folk to go out. The weather wasn’t so cooperative but even if it had been, Yvonne’s warmth loosened Granny up. And Mocha, sadly, loosened up Sara’s cat allergies.

Gran’s surgery is set for March 5, which is Greg’s birthday and also his job interview day. He is no longer with Crazy Mountain, and his ego was soothed a bit yesterday when he learned that his was not the only firing. If I hear, “the company is going in another direction” one more time, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but just take this as a warning!

Big table saws, long pieces of crown molding, massive sheets of top-grade plywood–and the trimmers are off and running. The den doors were ripped out yesterday, so we have two big openings covered with sheets, sheets which are doing very little to keep the dust out of our throats. I’m taking Mom for a permanent today, and the fumes may very well be preferable to the dust.

The good thing is, she’s now sharp enough to make her own hair style decisions. I’ve enjoyed the straight, short cut I imposed last summer, since it takes ten years from her age–but she’s pretty darned proud and vocal about her age, so I suppose she may as well look it. A tight curly little wire-haired do will take her through surgery and beyond.

We are still waiting for a surgery date for her, and it looks like it will be well into March. She has finally quit vacillating and is all for it, as her knee is loudly and regularly complaining. I got snarky with her today after the umpteenth loss of her hearing aids. Greg and I tore her bedroom from pillar to post and found only one of them. Then I recalled her falling asleep in a den chair last night, and Voila! There it was. She now promises to try harder. I’ve threatened to have them ‘wired’ to give her brain a jolt as they leave her ears, and with this new nano technology, it might just be possible.

When I was under her bed earlier, I had the thought: maybe I could just stay here for a couple of hours! Then the cat joined me, and I knew the rest would soon follow, maybe even the trimming carpenters, so why bother?

Sure, it’s winter, but the sky is so low, so gray, and it’s so cold, that I want snow, not gloom! It spit and sputtered a bit just now when I was outside with our contractor deciding on how long to make the brick steps from the studio to the patio. This is our second non-starter year for snow, and I apologize to those of you who are overwhelmed by what is passing us by. We have a long hill behind our house and it’s fun and funny to watch the neighborhood kids assemble enough snow for sledding. When the studio’s done, and I have access to that broad wall of windows, I’ll watch for them and run out shaking my fist, yelling, “You stinkin’ kids, get off my land!”

You who know me know the opposite will happen: I’ll be taking hot chocolate out to them.

Contractor Robby has torn out the dining room window and is repositioning the heat vents so they don’t interfere with the new bookcases. I had them hang a sheet over the opening, since the dry-wallers are now sanding. It won’t make much difference, but I do worry about old lungs. Mine, and Mom’s.

He wanted to rip out the den door as well, but Greg asked him to wait until tomorrow. It’s bitterly cold, and the heating unit isn’t in, yet. Once that’s all done, the three of us plus the cat can chase each other around the house in circles. Mom’s pretty spry for a little old woman.

Here’s an e-mail I recently sent out, along with picture of the studio exterior.

The exterior (sans landscaping and brick step to stoop) is complete, and next week we’ll have insulation, which is then connected to the drywall, connected to the ac/heat, connected to the electricity, connected to the painting, etc. I’ve picked out very neutral (boring?) paint colors, and tan-ish (boring?) ceramic floor tile with very dark grout. We’re moving the dining room to the living room (large; Greg will move his office there, too, so Mom can have her own sitting room where his office is now) and making the newly walk-through dining room into a gallery/living area. Looks like about fifty feet between the front door and the studio window wall. Bookcases will go on either side of the future doorway (without door) where the window now is.

I’m so used to being on the ‘decorator’ end of the spectrum, that this experience has been good for putting me into a client’s shoes. Normally, I’m silently screaming, “Just pick a blasted color! It isn’t a cure for cancer we’re going for, here!!” after hours-into-days of looking at fabric swatches with a client. Now, it’s me standing for way too long in front of Martha’s wall at Lowe’s asking myself, “Apple Basket or Twine? Hmm. Parcel or Spool? I dunno. Bleached Driftwood or Soft Angora?” The answer is “Apple Basket”, by the way. “White Corn” ceiling and trim.

Who knew, when we bought this rambler so that Mom could move in with us, that a studio was part of the plan? OK, I admit: I did. I told Greg that if I could have a studio addition, we wouldn’t need to ever move again. Unless Crazy Mountain needs someone in England. And if we hadn’t added space, one of us, or maybe two of us, would have been murdered by the one of us composing this. I love you, Mom. Yeah, yeah–you, too, Greg.

Robby Watts, you’re doing a magnificent job.

Work has started on the studio again! The siding is going on, as you see in the photo, and our contractor says three weeks max until it’s completed, inside and out. I choose to believe him, and buzzed around yesterday choosing ceramic tile and paint colors.

Had a Zen moment with Mom yesterday. She takes a prescribed liquid pain medication orally for her bum knee, and I dose it out with a dropper for accuracy. I’ve asked her not to take ‘the blue stuff’ unless Greg or I give it to her, and so far she’s complied. When I got home from errands yesterday, she was sitting in her bedroom chair with one pants leg pulled up to expose the naughty knee. There were little threads of blue gunk running from her knee down her shin. She said, “I know you don’t want me to do this on my own, but my knee hurt so I used just a little bit of the blue stuff.” She was surprised (after having taken around 50 oral doses) to be told that it is not applied directly to the knee.

On that note, I’m going out to enjoy the sunshine on a walk around the neighborhood. When I get back, Mom will have likely fixed herself a cup of tea, and sprinkled sugar in her hair.