Fella and I have been trying to get our tiny place habitable for two since the nuptials in October.  We've tried to kick it into high-gear now with our third on its way.  This means turning the second-bedroom-office into a nursery/office.  Well, we're still working on getting the office portion together. But the first step was completed a few weeks ago: installing some bookshelves.

 

We had a little mishap when we purchased the shelves. Fella got them from one of the Home Depot closeout-all-sales-final-sales and just grabbed the first (and last) six in stock. Well, two of them turned out not to be white.  It took quite a bit of searching, but I found and ordered them online. Phew.

But there were still those two black sheep shelves sitting around with nothing to do, nowhere to go.  My cookbooks seemed to be having the same problem, what with the bookshelves full-up with every other book (and some of Fella's model cars) already in the house.

[Insert light bulb over Zesty's head here]

Black shelves + Cookbooks + Wall space in kitchen = GENIUS!  At least in Zesty's mind.  Fella had other ideas, though.  Well, not so much ideas as strong opinions against his wife's genius.  Tsk, tsk, Fella.  But after much debate (and a little dose of shame from his mother) Fella and I put them up, where he could appreciate my genius in all its glory.

Fella post-installation quotable: "I don't know what you were so worried about."  Quite the comedian.

What was he so worried about to make him doubt Zesty's genius?  That the shelves wouldn't align with the counter.  Which, as you can see, they don't.  But our plans are to retile the kitchen counter and extend it out by several inches.  And voila: Perfect alignment!  Not that it really matters anyway, but that's my anal-retentive Fella for ya.  A chip of his old Pal (his architect grandfather).

In addition to the new tiled countertop in the kitchen, we're going to improve upon the cheap-ass cabinets the place came with (another genius idea compliments of Zesty, although one that was accepted with much less resistance than the kitchen shelf idea).  Here's a shot of our kitche cabinets:

We also have a bathroom vanity made of the same materials as our kitchen cabinets (and in desperate need of a little rehab) which we decided to use as our guinea pig for the rehab idea before diving into the kitchen cabinets.  So we are currently elbow-deep in a bathroom remodel.

So far, we've painted the vanity base, which we agreed was in and of itself a VAST improvement:

But that's not the last of it.  Fella is working on refacing the drawers and doors, adding trim before painting:

Shiny from the primer!

That's the handyman's er, hand there on the counter!

Then all we'll need is the new sink from our friends at Ordaz in Concord and we'll be in business!

Once we know for certain that the vanity was a success, we'll start in on the kitchen cabinets.  We're not entirely sure when the countertop project will be, but when it does the  kitchen will be a dream!  At least as far as condo-living is concerned.

We have one other home improvement project up our sleeves, but I'll leave that one for another blog, as it gets closer to fruition.  Until next time, I'm Bob Villa, thanks for reading This Old Condo from Martinez, CA.

First, comes love...check.

Then, comes marriage...check.

Then, comes Zesty in a baby carriage...CHECK!!!

Baby Zesty (or should I say Baby Fella? Baby Zesty-Fella?)  is due October 13, 2009!

Last Night

In a desperate attempt to send me a message, my subconscious had me dreaming about shoes last night. Message received, Brain, loud and clear. I need new shoes for my big dogs, preferably of the ballet flat/skimmer varieties.

If anyone knows of any comfortable and fashionable flats, please let me know. I’ve been dying for a pair a Tory Burch, but I don’t have an extra $195 to burn these days. So, also preferably under $100.

This Morning

Even with a bedtime of 9:30 p.m., I spent the greater part of my shower with my eyes unopened. And for the big finish, once my eyes were fully opened, I nearly tried to squeegee the entire shower with my razor.

I also spent the greater part of my commute thinking that I may be the only person in the state without a conveniently located Starbucks (or comparable coffee joint) along her commute. There’s not one close to my house or on the way to the freeway.  There are none along the stretch of freeway that I travel along, only a Carl’s Jr. (a.k.a. Hardee’s, for my loyal Midwestern readers) a Jack in the Box, a Shell, and a couple of Arco’s with am/pm mini-marts. 

So I decided to be daring in search of something slightly more convenient to my drive than the ‘Bucks closest to my office (which is neither close, nor convenient--discuss).

SUCCESS! It’s not exactly on the beaten path to my office, but it’s close enough for days like today when the crappy office coffee was not going to cut it (or even a non-crappy cup of drip would do for that matter--it was a fru-fru espresso drink kinda morning, for sure!) There, in the distance was the Green Valley Starbucks. I never thought I would ever say this, but thank goodness for Fairfield!!! Er--unincorporated Solano County (a.k.a. Green Valley).

Radio Killed the Music Star

So Greenday has a new album coming out. So Greenday is playing a lot “secret” shows in the greater S.F./Bay Area. So the radio is playing Greenday. A lot. As if they weren’t played enough as it was.

Now, I don’t begrudge the success of Greenday. I was never one of those music snobs who cried “SELLOUT!” upon a band’s mainstream success (I am, after all, a fan of capitalism). My target here is the ever declining media format of radio.

Do radio listeners really want to hear Sublime once every 90 minutes? They’ve had no new radio-worthy music since their singer OD’ed to his eternal reward circa 1996.  Ditto for Nirvana.  And Red Hot Chili Peppers? I’m not sure where the critical acclaim has come from for their more recent efforts, but it all sounds the same.  Not to mention the aforementioned Greenday. You’re killing me, Radio. You’re killing the music, too.

In the late 90’s, I had a co-worker and friend who was a fellow music aficionado.  He oft praised the pop stylings of Everclear. My oft response was to vomit.  Just the other day, an Everclear song came on the radio. And I sang along and I loved it.  For my earlier disdain, I blame you, Radio. You killed Everclear with too much airplay. Among other undeserving artists (and perhaps some deserving, too).

Please stop trying to engineer my musical likes and dislikes. It’s not becoming, Radio. And I just change the channel anyway.

Weekend Baking
All that I got to over the weekend was gnocci and two flavors of bran muffins. I'm OK with that.

I am one of the few lucky folks out there who has a bona fide three-day-weekend coming up. And all she wants to do--, all she wants to do is…BAKE!  And stuff.

And Stuff

I decided yesterday, that a friend’s mom had inspired me to make gnocci for dinner Friday. I’ve only attempted homemade gnocci once before, in Fella’s bachelor pad kitchen. I had to mash potatoes with a very thin-tined fork. I vowed to never again attempt without at the very least a masher, if not a ricer.

So I need to get a ricer.  The one I put on one of our wedding registries based on online window-shopping, turned out to be very flimsy plastic number when I met it in person. I don’t remember seeing a ricer at the other kitchen emporium at which we registered.  I may resort to visiting (and purchasing at) the Evil Empire. Or perhaps I’ll just borrow my mom’s.

BAKE!

I want to bake cupcakes and muffins and cheesecake and doughnut holes…oh my!

My MIL has not responded to my requests (via Fella) as to what I may bring to Easter Brunch/Lunch/Linner on Sunday. So I decided I would bake goodie baskets for all to have and take home. But when I sit and actually list out all the above referenced things I would like to attempt to bake, I realize that I may be a little bit insane.

So scratch the cupcakes. Those are too messy to pack up and deliver all cute like. And the doughnut holes have been on the back burner for some time now, they may as well wait, too. (Besides, I’m not sure that I want to mess around with a yeast-dough right now).

But First

I’m going for a massage. And then, a visit with my esthetician. Followed by a Grey’s catch-up session with my friend. And then…it’s gnocci time. And, well, you know the rest.

As ecstatic as I was to get my girls high and tight, after three days my back was not quite as into it.  So day three of Adventures in New Undergarments found my back health slowly, yet progressively, deteriorating. By end of business, I was a wreck. I spent the entire weekend rehabbing in old bras and a shelf-bra camisole. It got so bad that I didn’t think I could operate my vehicle safely. (So I didn’t).

Come Monday, the back was feeling better - at least ready to face the day upright at my desk. In a brief Alzheimer’s moment, I put on one of the new bras.  After my 40 minute commute and about an hour into the workday, I wasn’t sure how long I would last.  I promised to stay for a 9 o’clock meeting and see from there.

In a stroke of genius, I remembered my gym bag in the car. Gym Bag = Sports Bra = RELIEF! (and that I made it through the full day at work).

So Sunday was the first chance I’d had to take the offending unmentionables back to their hawkers (Nordstrom). The lovely sales lady who helped me was apologetic and a little perplexed. She tried to figure out who had helped me, so I offered up the name.

“Oh. She’s actually no longer with us.”

Eh? My curiosity was piqued, but I let it go. She brought out a few other models, one of which was so dowdy that it didn’t stand a chance up against the modest v-neck shirt I was sporting. When I explained to the LSL that this was probably one of my more conservatively cut tops, she agreed that this particular model would not do.

The second rig wound up being a nice option, in a Joan Holloway kind of way. Since Fella loves him some Mad Men, albeit for the January Jones portion of the program, I went for it. LSL suggested I wear it home (so I did) and that I take a break the following day (which I also did) and then try it again the day after (lather, rinse, repeat).

Yesterday was the day after and I rocked my Joan Holloway rack all frigging day.  My girls have never seen such heights of perky.And so far, my back has held up.  I'm not sure if I'll try again as soon as tomorrow, but I feel optimistic about this new endeavor.

Except the price on this new setup is on the verge of obscene. So, we'll see.