Kelly B.com

House, how's the HOUSE, Kelly? That's what our families are always asking. If you're tired of house talk, turn away. Our water closet on the first floor has been though an awful lot. That poor little room. When we first bought the house it had a shower stall and a toilet. Seeing the obvious problem with going to the potty and having to rinse your hands in a shower stall we pulled that shower out and placed it on the 2nd floor (for now) and were living okay with a vanity in it's place. However, like with a lot of things in the house the water closet still needs work and so this past Sunday it got gutted. The toilet and vanity are now in my kitchen (my poor kitchen) and Trevor's been working on fixing the wall there to be more sound proof. It's one of the very few walls through which we can hear our tenants. Otherwise the house is so massive that I can't even tell when they're home. I covered up the pink paint (yay!) and we've bought new tile

As you may have already noticed, I have really random luck. Not particularly "good" or "bad"...just random. Like, that $100 gift card a few months ago. Like constantly getting hit by other drivers in my car and it not being my fault and my car perpetually being in the shop. If it was good luck I wouldn't be hit. If it were bad luck, I'd be horribly disfigured and hurt. As it stands I'm perfectly whole and healthy. And I apparently tapped into some more random luck. If you haven't already guessed I am a bleeding heart. I don't want to be a crunchy granola chomping hippie but I'll be damned if I don't secretly want to wear all organic clothes and throw away everything I own that's plastic. Dirty Dirty Petrochemicals. As it stands I don't want to shave my legs, but that's another story. So these hippie tendencies in me tend to make me want to secretly save the world. I don't have a brand name one, but I have a stainless

I've been teeter tottering between how to approach this subject without sounding really weird or racy. It's not racy at all. But if you happen to know me you might know that I hate shaving. I just hate it. I can't stand the stumble, I can't stand the repetitive regularity that you have to do it. I can't imagine being 90 and leaning over trying to shave my legs. I'll just tell you now that it just isn't going to happen. I'll just be that really hairy 90 year old, thanks. Despite my ire, I don't want to be that random weirdo with hairy man-legs. Not that I have anything against it, but the social stigma is too much for me. So I actually find a lot of interest in hair removal alternatives beyond the razor. My favorite for a while was the Nair Sugar wax system, which I guess I'd liken to cheaper Nad's. If you were alive in the 90's you are all too familiar with the infomercials that Nads made. Oh Nads. What a wonderfully colorful n

Lex asked for another post so here it goes. Apart from the mild euphoria of squeezing into those jeans and losing all feeling in my legs and slightly bruising my hips (which by the way, do not whither away as quickly as I do) it's been more of the usual. Weekends spent at Lowe's. Looking at granite slabs. Looking at cabinet swatches. Feeling generally nauseous about the cost. Ya know. The usual. I'm a little confused about this granite versus marble thing because I've had laminate or tile in my other kitchens and it's been fine. I think it looks cool, and I'm kind of excited about the prospect of having a cold surface for chocolate tempering and dough rolling but otherwise? I just wish for a kitchen that works. My needs are pretty modest. I don't even need a funky back splash or granite light switch covers or a tin ceiling or built in bar sinks or anything. Other than that I've been painting things, mudding up holes and generally sore from stan

I'm going to tempt fate for a hot second and tell you something you totally don't want to hear. I squeezed into those zero jeans! It's not in the slightest bit comfortable but I wriggled, zipped and buttoned up those 7s . My butt kind of looks like that model's too...really flat, but whatever. I accept that as an unfortunate side effect of being thinner than usual. That fat's gotta come from somewhere, right? In about 8 hours I'm likely to just slightly too bloated for them, but for now? VICTORY. And designer jean victory, she is sweet. (I probably just made 39049090 enemies right there, but hey the recipe for such success is packing up a house worth of stuff, going up and down eleventeen billion steps from your 3rd floor apartment, not eating the meals you want to eat when you want to eat them and generally being overworked and underpaid. Easy, right?)