Cute as a Bucket

There was one thing still missing from my beautiful new bathroom.  A storage place.  You see, my roommate has the left side of the sink, but I had already monopolized the drawer on that side.  And things in that drawer, I wanted to keep on that side.  Clearly, I either needed to keep being an unfair vampire, or I needed to create a new solution.

New Solution: bucket!

  Isn’t it cute?  Would you believe that in it’s former life this beautiful bathroom bucket was red, plastic Lego bucket?  You wouldn’t!

I have a number of empty Lego buckets lying around.  They’re perfect for lots of things.  So I thought, ‘why not use a Lego bucket instead?’  However, after all that hard work making my bathroom look superb there was no way I was going to just stick a red, plastic bucket in there.  So, I made a cover for it.

It was a bit more work than I expected.  My original plan was just to wrap a big rectangle around the outside.  Problem: Lego buckets aren’t rectangular; they’re sort of trapezoidal with rounded sides and corners.

So I tried a new prototype with stripes.  The center blue stripes and the brown flowered stripes are all regular rectangles.  But the blue corner pieces, they’re trapezoids. 

When I sewed all the strips together, I had a sort of little skirt.  A little skirt that fit snuggly around the bucket.  Then I cut some slits to go around the handles and added a rounded-corner square to the bottom.  From little skirt, to little bag.

The bucket just nestles right into the little bag, perfect fit.  The top edges fold-over into the bucket and are glued to the insides.  The handle cover is also glued on.

The lid was one of the hardest parts.  You see that blue fabric is actually an old blouse of my mother’s that I really loved.  The blouse had too many stains to be worn as a blouse any longer, so I used it for my bucket cover.  After piecing together what was left of the blouse’s large flat parts (as opposed to collars and sleeves), there wasn’t enough to fully do the lid the way I wanted.  So, I added a 2” band of the brown flowered material all the way around.  Like blanket binding.

The lid is wrapped in the very large square (about 3x the lid’s size) and wrapped with string to create a cute little bow/flower looking thing.  It looks much cuter in real life than that picture.  There’s fiber-fill in it to poof it up a bit, make it look cozy and hide the red color that would otherwise be seen through the blue.  (The bucket cover itself is lined).

I’m really pleased with how the bucket turned out.  It’s a great addition to my new bathroom.  :)

My New Bathroom

Maybe the desire to overall my bathroom was hereditary.  Over the years that my parents have owned their home, I think they’ve redone every bathroom (and trust me, there’s a lot of bathrooms).  With mustard toilets and avocado sinks, I can’t say I really blame them.

In the beginning, it was simple things, like removing the carpet.  Carpeting is probably the worst thing you could possibly have in a bathroom with a potty-training toddler.  By the end, they were hiring interior decorators and completely redoing the wood work.

I certainly couldn’t get that fancy.  For one, I can’t afford an interior decorator.  Besides, I rent, which means whatever I do has to be easily undone and scars need to be easily repaired.  Sucks, but hey, it opens the door for more creativity ;)

Disguising the Enemy

Somewhere in this blog, at some point, I must have complained about the bathroom here.  Don’t get me wrong, it has some redeeming qualities, like a speckled counter and real tile.  But it also has the one bathroom fixture I hate more than any other in the world: shower doors.

My bathroom growing up had shower doors.  It’s a strange tub, accessible from both sides, a separate bathroom off each exit.  Somehow, I always managed to knock those shower doors off their tracks, get them jammed, knock them out of the tub.  It was bad.  When my parents decided to reglaze the tub from orange to blue, they removed the doors on my side of the tub.  To this day, if I’m home and I want to take a shower, I walk all the way around to the side of the tub without the shower doors.  I hate them that much.

In addition to my inability to use them properly, I detest shower doors for a number of much more logical reasons as well.  They are evil.  (See, very logical reason.)  And like most evil things, they are out to harm you any way they can.  Trying to shave?  Dropped the soap?  Bang!  There’s a pretty fresh purple bruise for you.  Want to get out of the tub?  Sc-raaaa-aape.  Oops, looks like you didn’t quite lift your shin high enough to get over those extra inches the rails add.  Hope your towels go well with blood red.  And the worst when you’re trying to get out.  SMASH!  Why are the rails for shower doors so much lower than curtain rods?! Really, I mean is there any reason I should have to duck just to take a clean myself?  And lastly, quite simply, they are ug-ly.

Seeing as how this is an apartment, I can’t do anything other than duck, be careful, and keep band-aids on hand for most of those problems.  But I could do something about the ugliness.

Isn’t that fabulous?  It’s a decorative tension rod, no damage to the walls at all.  The branches on the curtain blend through several different shades of blue.  As you’ll see, it coordinates well with the rest of the decor.  :)   Thank you Bed, Bath & Beyond.  Of course, the ugliness is still behind there, but this adds so much.  As a bonus, it keeps the cold air (from the window in the tub that is designed not to close, aka our ghetto-fan) in the tub instead of the bathroom proper and the hallway.

A Lil’ Color

The bathroom tub, sink, tiles, walls and ceiling are all white.  Nothing wrong with white.  White tile floors are way better than black, orange and yellow shag carpeting like my first my-own-bathroom had.  But, it was just too much white, dreary, no fun.  I fixed that.   Can’t paint?  Enter wall decals!

The tree theme carries over between the wall and the shower curtain.  I blended decals from two companies, Flair4All and Dali’s Decals.  Dali’s allows more customization, but I prefer the ones from Flair4All (reusable and easier to put in place).

No More Cold Toes

When Mr. Trizzle and I first moved into the apartment, the bathroom included a small bluish-turquoise-ish round bath rug.  With it’s short, prickly texture, it looked like it should be for a dog and it shed like one, too.  But it was a rug, and we were glad it was there. 

I ditched the old rug, put it in storage to put back when I leave.  I replaced it with two beautiful, light blue, soft, squishy, luxurious rugs.  One for the tub, and one to stand on at the sink so my toes don’t get cold while I brush my teeth.  :)  The blue goes nicely with the blue in the flowers of the Wall decals.

Wrapped in Warmth

Now, what good are warm toes if the rest of you is freezing?  Enter, beautiful, soft towels  Light blue and tan to coordinate with the rugs, wall decals and shower curtain.  They’re embroidered too, with little A’s for goldenrail.  The blue towels have tan A’s and the tan towels have blue ones.  I really wanted towels like my mommy and daddy have at home, superbly soft and fluffy.  But there’s are from Linen’s and Things, which is now gone.  The ones I got turned out to be just as fabulous.  They’re from JC Penny’s.  Same brand as the rugs, that way I could be sure the colors would match when they arrived.

The ducky towel stayed; there are still a number of small ducks around the bathroom, they match the yellow flowers and go with the general bird aspect of the theme.

The Finished Product!

Ta da!  Here it is, the final result.  Because of the size of the bathroom, it’s a bit difficult to get a good overview shot.  Here are the best two pics I could do.

I really like the results.  Stepping onto a soft rug after a warm shower, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel and taking a deep breath of fresh clean air in a room full of happy images and uplifting colors fills me with so much happiness!  The Legend said “I thought it was fine before.”  And Mr. Trizzle said, “there’s a lot of stuff on the walls.”  plhhhh.  guys.

 

[All pictures on this post are licensed under CC-BY  by goldenrail. ]

He’s Back!

In the three years I have known Mr. Trizzle, I have helped him move five times.  And I wasn’t even around every time he moved.  That’s a lot of moving!  Luckily for Mr. Trizzle’s very nice friends, he doesn’t have a lot of stuff.  He also takes people out for breakfast/lunch/dinner when they help him, so it’s a fun time.

This past weekend, The Legend, Berkeley-Boy, B-B’s girl and I helped Mr. Trizzle move back to the Yay.  We were all pretty happy he’s come back.  We’ve missed him!

For those who don’t remember, Mr. Trizzle moved to Merced in November for a new job.  Well, now he’s got another new job.  Sort of.  It’s actually his old job, but this time it’s real, not liable to disappear any day.  He is so happy to be back.

I’m a little sad, in a way.  I liked Merced.  It reminded me of home, at least more than the Yay does.  The houses were still way too big for their lots and only a foot or two away from each other.  But, the streets were wide, with abundant parking.  There was grass all over the place and sidewalks big enough for two people to walk next to each other.  Bumper stickers were friendly; people were friendly.  You could go out and it would just be chill, no pretentions, no guest lists, no cover charges.   And there were seasons.  Cold enough in Winter to actually need an ice scraper.  Hot enough in Summer to wear a sun dress – or so I’m told, Mr. Trizzle wasn’t there for summer.  I think I’m going to miss Merced, probably more than Mr. Trizzle.

But, it is good to have Mr. Trizzle back in the area.  His mom’s happy.  I’m happy.  B-B and The Legend are happy.  But no one, no one’s as happy as Mr. Trizzle himself.

One Hundred Thousand!

Yesterday, January 1st, 2010, was a day for celebration.  A real monument, a landmark in time, an event so special that it required champagne.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, my mommy’s minivan hit 100,000 miles on its odometer.

It was a very big deal, and throughout the preceding week, Daddy had been preparing for the great celebration, purchasing champagne (well, sparkling wine from Spain, but in the US it’s all the same to us), placing glasses in the garage, and threatening anyone who dared drive the minivan that they better not take it over 100,000 miles without him in the car or else.  Mommy even had strict instructions that should the van approach 100,000 while she was on her way to work, she was to pull over to the side of the road, call Daddy and wait for him to come meet her wherever she might be.  Luckily, no such extreme measures were necessary.

On Monday, my sisters and I borrowed the van for our annual trip to the museum.   We kept a close eye on the odometer.  “Thirty-five!”  I yelled out as we drove out of Leon’s parking lot and the van turned 99,985.  On Thursday, Daddy made Mommy take his car to work, because she works too far away.  Daddy only works about 5 miles from home, so he took her van.  And drove it just a little extra.  On Thursday afternoon, when he pulled into the garage, the odometer said 99,999.

All day Friday, the van sat there.  No one dared touch it.

Then came Friday night.  Time for the big event.  All the fun people – Nathy-Boo’s words since he and Alfred elected to stay behind – piled into the mini van.  Daddy driving, Mommy in the passenger seat, Munchkinhead and I in the middle seats and the Belgium in the back.  As Daddy backed the car out onto the street, we all craned our necks to watch the little digital numbers.  Down the street to the corner, up a block, over a block, up a block, over a block, still 99,999.  Around a corner, back towards, around another corner, onto our street.  And then, just as we pulled up in front of the house, ready to turn into the driveway, 100,000!

 

Daddy pulled into the garage as we all cheered loudly.  Then he and Mommy popped the cork on their champagne, poured it into glasses waiting on top of the recycling cart and toasted to the great achievement.  This was the first, and probably will be the only, vehicle they bought brand new and drove to 100,000 miles.

Life certainly is exciting in Wisconsin!

The Magic of… Wait, What Magic?

A child sits on Santa's lap, whispering into his ear her deepest desires, telling Santa exactly what she wants this year because she's been so very, very good. She knows Santa's watching her every day from his home high above her at the North Pole.  Even though she can't see him, he’s watching.  She's been told so often that he knows when she's been good or bad, knows if she's naughty or nice. And if she's good, she'll get nice presents, but if she's bad, she won't. She must please Santa to be rewarded.

The same child kneels before her bed in the evening, whispering her prayers to God, thanking Him for the good thinks in her life and telling Him what she wants. She knows God's watching her every day from his home high above her in Heaven.  Even though she can't see Him, He’s watching.  She's been told so often that He knows whether or not she has been behaving, knows if she has thought bad thoughts or wanted to do bad things. If she's good, she'll go to Heaven, but if she's bad, she won't. She must please God to be rewarded.

Then one Christmas Eve, the girl tiptoes down to her Christmas tree long after she should have been asleep and sees her mother putting more presents under the tree, eating the cookies on the plate nearby. There's no reindeer on the roof, no fat man in a red suit, heck, there's not even a chimney.

Why wouldn't she also question God's existence?

 

Christmas. Adults. Nope, they just don't go together. By the time we're adults, most of us have one of two standard perspectives of Christmas, both equally sad. Either the Christmas Story is nothing more than a story, no more real than a jolly man who lives far above us at the North Pole with his helper elves. Or, the events surrounding Jesus' birth are so familiar and comfortable that we can no longer see the miracles in them - those events, why that's just the way things are.

We learn about Christmas as young children.  The story is broken down so we can understand it: Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem on a donkey.  There, the Virgin Mary gave birth to a little boy in a stable, because there was no room at the inn. She put him in a manger and the cattle lowed. Three wise men came to visit and brought him gold, frankincense and myrrh. This baby was Jesus, that guy hanging on a cross in other pictures. God's son, an important person who would become a leader.

As children, we don’t know what a virgin is.  Even if we do, storks bring babies, so so what?  We don’t know that a manger is a food trough, that animals smell and are filthy and can be really mean.  We don’t understand that hay is itchy and can be full of bugs.

As children, we expect people to visit new babies; we expect birthday presents.  We know gold’s nice.  We probably think frankincense and myrrh were normal baby presents back in the day, like diapers and strollers now.  Even as adults, we probably don’t stop to think that these are items used to prepare a body for burial.

As children, it seems perfectly logical that someone who is going to be a great leader starts off very poor and regular-seeming.  Look at Abraham Lincoln, Einstein, Nelson Rockefeller, Obama!  and every other great person we’re encouraged to be like when we’re young school children.  We are taught that the way to success, to become great, is to start off with almost nothing and pull ourselves up by our boot straps.  For Jesus to be born poor and be the Son of God that will save his people, that is no miracle.

And yet, as adults, when we should be able to look at these pieces in the context of biology, of history, of society, when we should be able to understand that a unmarried woman who has never had sex just can’t suddenly become pregnant, when we should be able to understand how awful it would be to sleep in a barn with some animals, or how scary it might be for a mother to receive burial ointments at the birth of her son, when we should be able to contemplate how much it would suck to walk for days and days, how uncomfortable it is to sit on a donkey or how difficult it is to get a donkey to do what you want, when we should be able to really get all the many miracles and the hardships in the story, we don’t think about them at all.  It’s Christmas; it’s normal; it happens every year.  And the magic is lost, as lost as if we didn’t believe at all.