In which I change the ceiling lamp in the hall and feel mighty

Our humble abode is not in disrepair. The roof is not caving in, the basement is not leaking, and the floors do not threaten to fall away with the lightest of steps.  With the exception of new windows (and eventually, when I win the lottery, extending the ceiling and adding a skylight in the living room), almost everything I would like to do to improve the house is cosmetic. Case in point: light fixtures.

My major issue with this house is that it feels quite dated, and the light fixtures are a serious contribution to that problem. It’s not just style and design I’m talking about, although that is a major failing of whomever decorated previously. (Frosted, floral, gold-trimmed bits of daintiness may do it for my grandmother, but not for me.) It’s also function. Of all the ceiling lamps that were in the house before we moved in, not a single one was appropriate.

For example, in the largest rooms (the master bedroom and the dining room), ceiling lights are in the form of teeny, delicate, frosted covers that hugged the plaster so tightly that I’m surprised any light got through at all. Larger rooms, in my opinion, require larger light fixtures to a) create more light, and b) balance the proportions of the room. Conversely, the smaller rooms in the house contain large, bulky, hideous monstrosities that dangle a foot below the ceiling, making the room seem even smaller than it actually is. One of these smaller rooms is a room in which Hubby and I both teach, so we are in there quite a bit.  The light fixture in there is problematic for a couple reasons: a) it’s just plain ugly, and b) it’s treacherous to our noggins. I’m not particularly tall, but my poor head is in danger of getting wanged whenever I wear heels. Since it’s a problem for me, it’s definitely a problem for the Hubborama, who towers over me no matter what my footwear, and who has on several occasions gotten clocked during lessons.

The moral of this unnecessarily lengthy introduction is that I’ve decided to be a little more proactive about home improvement. Specifically, that means not waiting on my keester for the Hubster to help me with something I could easily do myself. More

New York: it’s a hell of a town

At this very moment, you all should be congratulating me. Why? Because I temporarily conquered two of my fears: traveling alone and New York City.

It’s not that I can’t travel alone. I’ve done it many, many times before. I just don’t like to. I always feel exposed and vulnerable when I travel alone, and much more likely to get lost. And I don’t loathe New York City with a burning passion that fills every inch of my being with rage. No, I just really don’t like big cities in general. There is something so claustrophobic about the tall buildings lining narrow streets filled with too many people. I get disoriented much too quickly, and must rely upon others to guide me to my destination.

When you combine these two elements of my feardom, you end up with the exact reason why I hate traveling in NYC by myself: navigating the subway system.

I must have been overcome with temporary insanity, because about a month ago I agreed to meet my best friend from grad school in the city for dinner, to travel by myself through the perilous, gaping maw that is New York public transit. Getting there wasn’t a big deal. Hubby drove me to the train station, and a quick trip up the Northeast Corridor brought me to Penn Station. That’s where things got a bit wonky. More

Apparently, I disappeared

Wow. Has it really been two months since I’ve visited my own blog? I need to remedy that, and quickly.

Haiku 25

Kitty cat napping
Balancing upon my legs
(I’m laying sideways)

Grammar Nazi

I hate to say it, but I am a Grammar Nazi.

I am not by any means a perfect speller, and I sure as heck didn’t get my degree in literature or some other language-based medium. At least I try. Sure, I speak in LOLspeak and use other, not so grammatically correct turns of phrase on occasion, but the fact of the matter is that I know the difference, and I tend not to put the aforementioned bastardizations of the English language in print, especially on a social network feed where all my friends are privy to my inner workings.

The unfortunate fact is that many of my friends on Facebook and in the blogosphere do not bother to check their spelling and grammar, and it drives me crazy! Avoidable bad grammar is one of my pet peeves. Yet, I would probably lose most of my friends if I went around correcting their mistakes, which are many and often.

So, gentle readers, consider yourself forewarned: you are about to experience a rant about the main offenders in my news feed. More

A shift in the balance of power

Hubby and I got a cat.

We already had a cat. Nothing happened to her. We just got another one.

Something happened to me two months ago that has happened with increasing frequency during recent years: my maternal instinct started kicking in. Big time. Perhaps it’s because I’m in my prime childbearing years, and I’ve long since passed the age at which my mother had me. Perhaps it’s because most of my friends have moved on from being newlyweds to being new parents. Perhaps it’s being recently wed to the Sweetest Man on the Face of the Earth and the questions have shifted from “When are you going to get married?” to “When are you going to have a baby?” All that combined with hormones that are screaming, “BABIES!!!” makes it pretty unbearable at times.

Hubby and I want to have children. Just not now. We’d like to enjoy more than a couple months or years together in wedded bliss before we have to turn our attentions to something other than ourselves. But a couple months ago, I smacked a sort-of ultimatum before him: it’s either a baby or a kitten. More

Foods I refuse to eat

I think I’m pretty darn fortunate to have had parents who exposed me to so many “exotic” foods when I was growing up that nowadays I’ll eat almost anything.

ALMOST anything. That means there are still a few things I absolutely refuse to eat, and with (I think) good reason. More

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