Romanticizing the Claw Foot Tub…Don’t Do it.

This isn't a photo of our bathroom but it's pretty much the same tub.

This isn’t a photo of our bathroom but it’s pretty much the same tub.

When we were taking a first look at the condo we eventually bought, there was one thing that stuck in my mind when we left – the beautiful claw foot tub in the master bathroom.  I had never lived anywhere that had a claw foot tub so I had nothing but romantic ideas about the tub.  I imagined sipping wine while taking a luxurious bubble bath.  Well…that’s pretty much where the romantic thoughts ended because, well, that’s where the movies’ portrayal of the tub ends too.  Regardless, I was excited at the prospect.

The day we moved in, I couldn’t wait to use the tub – albeit a shower.  This is precisely when my hatred started.  Have you ever taken a shower in one?  It’s the worst.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve banged my shin as I’ve raised my leg high but not high enough to clear it’s sides.  Then once your inside, it’s like you are wrapped in a cocoon of shower curtain. Seriously, it’s a 360 wrap of curtain.  Then, comes the lack of shelving for shampoo and soap.  Because it doubles as a shower, I can’t buy one of those pretty wooden shelves that rests on the tub.  Instead, we balance our stuff on the edge, leaned against the wall…this starts another world of problems.

A claw tub does not sit flush to the wall.  Instead it has approximately six inches on every side.  Six inches of space that allows the filth of shower and wetness to get into the crevice of every stone that surrounds it.  I almost knocked myself out, followed by getting stuck when trying to clean it.  I had my arm as far as I could stretch, trying to reach the floor and darkness below.  Before I knew it, I slipped into the most precarious position that I thought for a moment I might die of starvation.  There was no way I was getting out of it on my own.

So this is my warning.  If you ever have the chance to have a claw foot tub, don’t…well, unless you have a separate shower,  Then, totally do it because they are pretty.  But only do it, if you don’t plan to take baths.  Those are worse than the showers.

You’ve been warned.

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Plumber’s Butt

Tom doesn’t understand why I wear high waisted jeans.  As I documented in my post Mom Jeans, I am constantly tugging at my pants to pull them higher.  It’s a terrible habit – one that drives Tom absolutely batty.  He just doesn’t understand the woes of having an unnaturally long butt crack.  It runs in my family.

Anyways, he took a picture of me the other day from behind to try to illustrate that I don’t need the high waist.  My twenty year old self didn’t think I needed a high waist either.  And look at where it got me.

 

This is me, my junior of college.  I insisted on wearing the lowest rise jeans I could fine.  The result was constant plumbers butt.

This is me, my junior of college. I insisted on wearing the lowest rise jeans I could fine. The result was constant plumbers butt.

 

And here is the picture he took the other day. 

Tom showed me this picture immediately followed with reasons why I should wear lower waist jeans.  The main one being I don't have children.

Tom showed me this picture immediately followed with reasons why I should wear lower waist jeans. The main one being I don’t have children.

My butt crack tucked safely away makes me happy. 

I wasn’t even mad he took the photo to tease me.  In fact, I was delighted he took this photo.  I’ve been working out since July, and this picture made me happy with the progress.  Just maybe, when I decide to reward myself with “goal jeans”, I’ll opt for midrise. 

*If you’re curious about the jersey I’m wearing, it’s a Notre Dame jersey.  I am a huge fan and cannot wait for the National Championship game.  Go Irish!

Nervous Flying

This is how I internally feel on a plane.

“Elyse, do something.” 

Lana was annoyed with me.  She was leaning back in her seat, relaxed and reading War and Peace for the fiftieth time.  My knuckles were white from clutching the arm rests.  I was sitting straight up in my seat, tense.  I had been staring at the side of her face since we took off.  I was looking for any sort of sign that our airplane was in fact going to crash.

Lana is fearless.  The idea of dying doesn’t scare her, and she has a sense for adventure that I don’t.  She has been all over the world, once going to Shanghai to shop for the weekend.  Her independence and fearlessness are merely two of the many things I admire about her.   We often go on trips together and make good travel partners.  She once told me my strengths while traveling are my easy going nature, no need for a schedule and my willingness to get drunk at any time*.  However, my fear of flying is a giant weakness.

I have always been a nervous flyer.  I also suffer from occasional anxiety, which is not so occasional when it comes to flying.  It comes out in full force.  The butterflies start a few days in anticipation of the flight and then as I step into the airport, the irrational thoughts start.  And unlike Lana, dying scares the crap out of me.  I have a great life, and it makes me sad that one day it will all come to an end.  So when it does happen, I want it to be fast.  Unfortunately, on a plane, I imagine there is at least thirty seconds to think about the inevitable as the plane plummets and twirls to the ground – or worse, the seat comes loose and I free-fall buckled in, wind in my face, praying I have a heart attack prior to peeing myself. 

“Did you hear that?”  Continue reading

A Sweepstake Mistake

I have recently become obsessed with sweepstaking on the internet.  It’s fun, free and much like the lottery, lends itself to a lot of dreaming.  I don’t discriminate against prizes because what I’ve learned after reading the rules and regulations, most have a cash option in the fine print.  While I loved the last HGTV Green Home, I really have no desire to move to Georgia but after reading the fine print I learned there was a $400,000 cash option plus the car. Count. Me. In.

The sweepstakes don’t require a lot of information or time so it has been a fun, side hobby.  I stick to reputable companies, well at least ones I have heard of so that I always feel good about my entry.  After a few weeks, I haven’t seen any negative affects to my entries…until yesterday.

I was perusing Facebook looking at my friends’ pictures – it’s either babies or the wasted singles (there really is no in between).  Anyways, I looked to my right and an engagement ring sweepstakes caught my eye.  I was ecstatic.  I LOVE jewelry, specifically sparkly rings.  The last time I was promoted, I bought myself a ring as a reward.  Lately, I have also been obsessed with engagement rings.  I have been designing my own on Blue Nile to see what I like.  I admitted this obsession to Tom and let him know I will be an excellent resource when the time comes.  So, naturally, I instantly clicked on the ad, pleased with my latest find. Continue reading

Breaking Neighbor Barriers

“Hey!”  I shouted while trotting across the lawn with a beer in my hand.  I could hear my friends giggling and talking in the background.

He didn’t hear me.

“Hey!”  I shouted again.  I moved closer to his property line careful not to get too close to his dog’s run. 

I took a moment to take a deep breath while I waited for him to notice me.  It was the perfect summer night.  Behind me, my friends faces were dancing in the fire light.  I could hear Tom singing along to our favorite country music song.  And when I looked up, I gasped.  The sky was filled with thousands of twinkling stars.  A grin spread across my face as I saw the Big Dipper above me.  You don’t see stars like that in the city, if you see any at all.  I am really starting to settle into my suburban life.  It’s a quiet life but I’m in love and happy.   

I still aspire to have friends in the neighborhood.  Friends in general have been the most difficult part of the move.  My life, Tom’s life – our life is in the city but if we’re going to be out here for at least another year, we need to make the most of it.  My book club is in it’s third month and today, I have an interview to become a volunteer at the local library.  I’m making progress meeting new people but our neighborhood has been a tough nut to crack. 

We’d all had a few beers when our neighbors showed their faces in the backyard.  I immediately perked up in my seat.  I have been dying for any excuse to talk to them, and yet, I haven’t even managed to get a wave out of them yet.   Continue reading