Sigh. Government.

Several years ago I worked for our state's art agency, the Florida Department of State, Division of Cultural Affairs. This year the legislature promises to dramatically cut allocations to the Division's grant programs. There are lots of agencies that will be feeling the cuts. Yikes. This irks me, of course.

But at least the Bring Your Guns to Work Bill passed the House. Boy, that makes me feel at ease.

So I wrote my dad, one of my favorite political confidants to complain. He wrote back "Remember we have Steve King as our congressman so we know what awful government can really mean."

Point well taken, Dad.

Now we're cooking with gas.

Utility crisis averted: it was just a burned out pilot light. An old rental stove = prone to problems. You should have seen the disgusting mess underneath the stove top when the utility guy opened it up to check the pilot lights. Scary. It was so gross I couldn't even bring myself to address it. Maybe one of these days.

Subject to change.

Tonight I made a good plan, and was executing it with precision. Came home, met a friend to walk the pups (or crazed beasts, as they can be prone to act), cleaned up a bit, got ready to go to Pete's African ensemble contest. Except I smelled gas in the kitchen, so I ended up going back to work to get my cell phone off the desk (where I left it, I was so excited about that walk!) so I could call the City Utilities people. Now I'm sitting on the couch while Pete plays away on the African instruments. Even my best laid plans sometimes don't work out. And wish me luck on the gas issue.

Home Improvement Update.

Pete is doing an absolutely masterful painting job on our red hall way. I am contributing by conducting an Internet search for the perfect bedroom curtains. I think we can tell who got the short end of this stick. Thanks, KP.

Getting rid of the infectious disease.

We moved into a new place somewhere in the space of two-four weeks ago. Slowly we've been painting this place, getting our shit into order and making the place our own. (More precisely speaking, our rental place, not technically our own place. But whatever.) This process has been somewhat painstaking, especially considering that I've been sick both with mono and the flu in those same two-four weeks. Gross. But I'm telling you, something had to be done about the colors in this place.

We're talking a cute lil' 30s house in a desirable little neighborhood, very near to where I work and close enough that Pete can ride his bike to work. Original hardwood floors and doorknobs, some original light fixtures, very few outlets because people of that era didn't have flat panel tvs, iPods, and electronics to think about. So not without its problems, but suitable for our needs. Even a little yard for the Ettta.

Pete is in working on a third (or is it fourth?) coat of red in the hallway, and I've just taken a break from painting the floorboards in the kitchen a nice, crispy white to match the light orange we've chosen for the walls. When we rented the place the entire kitchen was covered in a putrid brownish-pink off-white color I can only think to call infectious disease. It's the kind of color you would expect to see in a skeevy government office somewhere, like the place I went to get free birth control in college. Yuck. Everything in the kitchen was painted that color: two doors, each of the little cabinets and all of the hardware, the walls and even the floorboards. I will be so glad when that disgusting color is out of there.

I don't know how people can handle real home improvement projects. Some friends of ours ripped up all their carpeting and put in hardwood. Holy shit. I could never handle a project of that magnitude. Hats of to Aloe gal and her main squeeze, serious weekend warriors. We even saw them in the Home Depot parking lot this morning - no doubt they'll have more improvement tales to tell us when we catch up at a party later today.

Anyway, I'm back to deal with lesser-scale infectious disease paint color crisis. Maybe some before and after photos will follow, which I always elude to on this blog but rarely come up with. You can look forward to it if you want, but don't get your hopes up!

Menstruatin' for a cause.

Periods with purpose. This concept is a little much for me. Tampax and Always are helping young girls in South Africa have period protection so they can go to school. Everybody's into being involved. Which is great. I'm all for involvement. But menstruatin' for a cause kind of skeeves me out. Kind of like Mike Huckabee on the Tyra show. Skeeve.