New Fireplace

When Rita stays home for a week instead of traveling for work…she sure makes it count, by god.  Which more often than not….involves a minor renovation of some sort.  Behold our soon-to-be-new-fireplace. 

I guess suffering through these 70 degree days has finally gotten to us and we are ready to do something about the previous “Trading Spaces” fireplace.  I mean, we have no heat for chrissakes, when it dips into the 50s….I need some relief. 

Here’s the thing though – I’m on the road for work….what…48 weeks out of the year?  Wouldn’t scheduling all this demolition and commotion while we’re GONE be the smarter way to go???  [Obviously, someone doesn’t trust random workmen with their own key and full run of the house like I do.]

Monday morning brought all kinds of excitement.  First of all, we moved every single thing out of the living room so as to make the rest of the house largely uninhabitable too.  [Imagine Rita’s surprise when the remote control we lost in 2009 showed up behind my VHS movie collection – I could have SWORN the cleaning lady lost that.]   And who knew that when you take out the rug in the living room, it has the acoustics of the Metropolitan Opera.  Now when Molly barks at the mailman you can hear it from six blocks away instead of just two.    

Speaking of acoustics….I wasn’t expecting the guys to have to use that jack hammer all day Monday.  In the room next to my office.  During my conference calls. 

But the workguys were really good.  They sealed off the room with a sheet of plastic and barely ever tried to sing along to southern rock station playing from their radio.  In fact, it took our vicious guard dog a day and a half to realize someone else was in the house [those clear plastic sheets can be DECEPTIVE, I tell you].  But when she did figure out we had intruders….she really showed them who was boss [please see earlier comment re:  acoustics-amplified barking].

But I think little Molly Magoo likes the new fireplace.  Last night when the workguys left, she went right over to it and stood on the base. 

I thought the paw prints in the new hearth were cute. 

This Sort of Thing Never Happens on Southwest

Rough finish to my United flight from San Diego to Philly today.  After we land, I go to get my big wooly winter coat out of the overhead compartment and I initially think…”wow, someone neatly folded my coat for me after I just shoved it in here” [with my apologies to Rita’s winter coat that I’ve borrowed for the season].  But then I realize…nooooooo, someone didn’t neatly FOLD my coat, they TOOK my coat, leaving theirs instead.  Nice, but since I am not a size medium and this is a man’s scarf…I don’t agree to the trade.

A stolen coat!  And it even had my brand new-Christmas-present scarf tucked into the sleeve.  [I’ve lost my Christmas present by January 3^rd, a new record.]  The guy in front of me could tell what was going on and helpfully offered (with a smile)…”at least they didn’t take your bag”.  Yeah, buddy, that’s right….it’s only 17 degrees here in Philly, but at least they only took the garment I need to prevent frostbite. 

What is the proper protocol in an airplane burglary?  Run to the flight attendant, of course.  I think she actually tried to talk me into taking the other coat and just calling it even…”But this one is a Calvin Klein?”.  This isn’t a swap meet, lady! [but ummm…how much money is in the pocket?]  So I stand there in the first row of business class, right next to all the elderly people waiting for their wheelchairs and basically practice my flight attendant skills for the next 20 minutes… “Welcome to Philadelphia” “Thanks for flying” “Happy new year to you too” on a focused coat vigil as Every.  Single.  Passenger.  Deplanes.   I mean seriously!  20 minutes?  How far can you go down the freezing gangplank before you realize you have the wrong coat and you [sheepishly, I would hope] return to the plane??? 

And as I looked at the older gentleman parked next to me, patiently waiting for his wheelchair….I realized that you get…not very far at all, as it turns out.  “Sir, that is a lovely woman’s scarf tucked into that coat….I think it belongs to me.” 

“No, ma’am I don’t think so.”  Did Ebenezer just call ME “ma’am”??  After stealing my coat???  Alright Old Man…we are going to do this thing, aren’t we?  Suddenly the flight attendant became the least enthusiastic judge & jury of all time.  “He took my coat!”  The old man wasn’t buying it.  That’s when I had to drop the hammer…”I think if you check that coat, it’s missing two buttons and there are half a dozen starbuckies receipts in the pocket.”  (With more apologies to Rita, but I’ve clearly made the coat my own.)

Let’s just say that I was warm and toasty leaving the airport in Philly.  Not sure about Ebenezer, though.  But goodness, with all the commotion there on the plane, I was practically in my rental car before I noticed I had the wrong suitcase.