Five cans of green, spray paint: $24.00.

Two gallons of white, ceiling paint: $38.00.

One box of sand for texturizing: $4.00.

Ending up with one white toe and permanent flip-flops: Priceless.

Labels: House of Horrors, Photos, Ramblings

I have five more work days until summer break starts. FIVE. I am excited about this for many reasons, but mostly because it will free up time to paint peeling ceilings and doors which dogs slam their noses into because they think they are ajar. Judging by the velocity at which our two dogs run into our storm doors, they clearly picture an enormous lamb shank on the other side.

I also work as a cook (read: lunch lady) in an old school with a single window air conditioner which blows out such a lack of cold air that we might as well have a politician standing in the corner. Or my hair dryer. Same difference.

I took the job because my son sometimes chokes when he eats, which has happened this school year exactly none times. I'm pretty sure my boss thinks it was a lie and that I really wanted to work there because I truly enjoy smelling like pepperoni.

There are benefits to my work outside of that choking thing and the fact that I have the same days off as my kids and never have to worry about child care. Mainly, that I can occasionally sneak a curly fry and that when we make green beans there is a veggie steam that coats my skin. That's right. Free facial.

But, my house misses me. A lot. If I could read her emotions by looking at her cluttered basement or weed-filled flowerbeds I would see her crying. Crying like she just watched The Champ. She's tired of her stained carpet and unwashed windows. I think my house would leave me for another owner if it could.

So I have started my list of summer chores. It's long and ambitious, but I'm confident that I will have the energy and motivation to get some stuff done. If I can cook for 200 people in a kitchen that is to me what water was to the Wicked Witch of the West, than I can certainly get a few chores crossed off of my list.

Because even though my house is falling apart, the central air conditioning works like a charm.

Labels: House of Horrors, Lunch Lady Land, Ramblings

1. When spring rolls around with her warm breezes and gentle rain, and the air outside is rich with the scent of lilacs, my old house starts to smell like wet dog and rotten wood.

2. When school softball, summer softball, track, baseball, going away parties, graduation parties and weddings all start to overlap, I begin to think I should increase my dosage of Zoloft.

3. Throw in a spring musical and it's time to get my Ambien refilled too.

4. But, taking Ambien makes me get on Twitter and say things like this: 'There is missional impossible musci blarking behind my head and it makes me want to put on black leggies and snaek around nmy houser'.

5. And, this: 'Now t here 's a baby crying and it's making my ovaries hurt. If I start lactating, that will just be weired'.

6. Then people named AmbienRehab start following me on Twitter.

7. My family likes to spend time playing the Wii together, but Super Mario Bros. was invented by someone with a sick and twisted view of family togetherness.

8. My son jumps around on his Hippity-Hop so much that he looks like he has a permanent, blue hemorrhoid.

9. If you go to a wine tasting and the Sommelier starts talking about "shoulders" in your wine, you may think you drank too much.

10. And, if your husband hasn't had dinner and attends the same wine tasting, he may eat half a cheeseball made of Jarlsberg cheese.

11. So when next year's invitation doesn't arrive, we shouldn't be all that surprised.

Labels: Family Life, House of Horrors, Insomnia, My Better Half, Ramblings, Random Realizations

On Saturday night we invited some friends over for pizza. Let's say, hypothetically, that this was a last-minute get-together. I actually knew about it for days.

When you have two dogs, two kids and a husband who doesn't care when the house is dirty, it won't do any good to clean ahead of time. You can't straighten up until an hour before your guests arrive or else dirty socks and half-chewed dog bones magically appear.

After my daughter's morning track meet we came home and went to work. She dealt with the clutter, while I vacuumed, mopped, dusted and cleaned the half bath. Although there were random shoes laying around when our friends arrived, for the most part the house looked clean. Well, clean enough anyway. They're friends, not royalty.

Everything was fine until one of the moms in the group offered to read my son a bedtime story. She took him upstairs, made sure he brushed his teeth and got him into bed. I got a night off from the bedtime routine and my son got a night off from me rushing him through it.

So, what's the problem? The problem is that she went upstairs.

Upstairs to the land of unmade beds and a kids' bathroom with soap on the faucet, toothpaste on the mirror, dog hair on the floor and a huge rust stain in the tub. And there is a table in the hallway that looks like I am trying to feed the dust mites until they've had their fill.

If I had remembered the mess that awaited her, I would have never let her climb the steps. I was this close to faking her out and letting her believe that I'm a decent housekeeper.

Clearly, I need to be more conscious of where my guests go. Either that, or my next house needs to be a ranch.

Labels: House of Horrors, Ramblings

We have great neighbors. Really, I just love them. One of them is my boss. I love her the most. What? I can be shameless if I want to.

The neighbors immediately to our east are wonderful too. They take great care of us. And by take care of us, I mean bring us cupcakes and cookies and homemade jelly.

Not to mention that they have one of the most beautiful yards on the street. Just last night I opened a window and a lovely floral aroma wafted into my kitchen. No air freshener necessary!

But, the best thing is that there is no competition between us. I mean no competition. At all. As in, none. Here is proof of that...

These are their hostas.

These are mine. See those little green stubs? But, look! Mulch!

This is their pretty, potted plant.

These are mine. Oh, okay! These are last year's potted plants which are still sitting on my patio.

Labels: House of Horrors, Photos

I am not going to lie; I like nice things. However, I pride myself on being a bargain shopper through e-bay, Craigslist and various discount stores. I have bought a room-sized area rug for $200.00, Pottery Barn lamps for $2.50 each (from Pottery Barn) and have no qualms about buying designer clothes at thrift stores. I like nice things, but I like to be cheap about it.

Unfortunately, when my husband and I bought our house in 1998 it was in sore need of rehab. There were yellow plastic tiles on all sides of the kitchen, including the ceiling. All of the bathrooms had linoleum, the foundation needed jacked up and there were trees growing through the patio cement.

We were both working full-time at good jobs and were plugging along on the renovations slowly, when I found out I was pregnant. Suddenly, we were rushed...and decidedly less wealthy...because I would soon be staying home with a new baby. We didn't even have the money for discount items. We had to buy clearance discount. It wasn't pretty, people.

I made many, many decisions on the fly as well. I picked out wallpaper because it was in stock, not because I liked it. I bought carpeting off of a 5" x 5" sample at a bargain outlet. I made a lot of mistakes. Times one thousand.

This may just be the worst of them. This is the boob light that hangs on my bedroom ceiling.


We have other boob lights in the house, but I see this one every morning when I wake. It stares at me whenever I lie in bed and despite searching e-bay and Craigslist and every other site I can for a chandelier to hang in its place, I have not yet been successful. In 12 years.

I hate this light. From the bottom of my bosom.

Labels: House of Horrors, Photos, Ramblings, Things I Would Change

Labels: Family Life, House of Horrors, Kids, Photos

There are a lot of things you give up when you have children. You simply have to learn to let some things go. Like a good night's sleep, disposable income and liquid assets.

You also have to accept the muddy floors, juice stained school uniforms and beds that don't make themselves.

You have to understand that the bathmat will get soaked, that little children like to smudge up the television, the computer monitor and the car windows, and even though a backpack has come home without the slightest remnant of a snack for over a month, it doesn't mean you won't look in there one day and suddenly find a small container full of moldy strawberries. Hypothetically.

However, since I started my new job I've found it really hard to let those things go ignored because I just don't have the time to deal with them. It's one thing to see a load of laundry sitting on the floor in the basement and think, "I'll get to that later" and it's something else entirely to actually get it done.

It didn't used to bother me if I saw a pair of socks on the living room floor or dishes in the sink, because I knew I would have time to take care of it. Now, I simply don't get that chance. It's frustrating and I have been letting it drive me crazy.

Yesterday, in the midst of cleaning the house, my daughter asked me to stop and listen to her play a song on her electric piano. As I sat on the edge of her bed and listened to her play Pachelbel Canon, I realized that I really need to stop worrying about whether the floors need swept or if the blinds are dirty.

Because as she played that beautiful music all I could think about was how dusty her keyboard was.

Labels: Family Life, House of Horrors, Insomnia, Kids

Not long ago, I mentioned to my kids that I was finished picking up their stuff. I told them that they are responsible for putting their things back where they belong. Let's see how that's working for me. Shall we?

Here's a beachball, in my kitchen.

Labels: Family Life, House of Horrors, Kids

These are four of the six Canadian men who were at my house this afternoon. Oh sorry, they were at my hoose.

They came for a visit because Hurricane Ike decided to go a little off course and do this to my Ohio backyard. Yes Canucks, those are maple leaves.

Labels: House of Horrors, Photos, Ramblings, The Places in My Neighborhood

I live in Ohio. We do not get hurricanes in Ohio. We get tornados, flash floods, and more than a few people who lose their lives to lightening each year.

But yesterday, Ike showed up for an unexpected visit and he wasn’t a very nice guest.

While we were gone for the afternoon, Ike’s remnant, hurricane-force winds took advantage of our absence and wreaked havoc on our home. He snapped a branch off our 70 foot tall maple tree like a toothpick, which then crashed down on our swing-set, fence, cable wires and electrical line.

We are just one of a half million families in the Buckeye state who may be without power for roughly a week.

We packed up the kids, dog, and all the food we could salvage and drove 20 miles to my Mom’s house. We’ll camp out here, where the kids can get good and spoiled, until things get fixed at home.

On the drive out, it was eerie to see the entire city without power, and every other house with a large limb or an entire tree down in their yard. Roads were closed, shingles were flying, and cars were crushed. I have never seen anything like it.

Despite the hassle, the inevitable death of every fish in our 55 gallon tank, the loss of income because our places of employment are shut down, the wondering if our house will catch fire because there are electrical wires laying on the roof, and the monumental mess we have to clean up…the biggest challenge will be dealing with the fact that my Mom still lives in 1975 and doesn’t have internet access.

I am thankful for so many things right now, but mostly that no one was hurt, that we don’t live in Texas, and that Panera has free Wi-Fi.

Labels: House of Horrors, Ramblings, The Places in My Neighborhood

Labels: House of Horrors, Kids, Photos

This is my yard, covered with a zillion leaves which need to be raked and bagged.

And, this is what is still to come.

Labels: House of Horrors, Ramblings

Friday brought disaster #756 to the Fali household. What really burned me up, is that Friday is the day I actually get stuff accomplished around here. We often have weekend visitors, so I save the piles of dog hair and kitchen counter crumbs to be cleaned up on Friday so our guests will walk in and say things like, “Your house is always so clean!” AH, HA, HA! I feel like an evil genius when that happens.

This past Friday was no different. I had managed to move the entire dining room around, mostly because the area rug has left a mark on the floor and I want to even things out. My thought being that maybe people will think we designed the floor to have a sun-faded wring around all the edges. In addition, I managed to do some dusting, sweeping, mopping, and bathroom cleaning. Because, scrubbing other people’s poo off the toilets is just another wonderful thing about being a homemaker.

I had run the dishwasher and done four loads of laundry, when my daughter went into the basement. I heard a dreaded, “MOM!” from downstairs. The type of “MOM!” you hear when someone is about to projectile vomit, or the kind where someone other than the kid yelling has broken something very expensive. Either way, I knew it was bad.

My daughter ran upstairs and said she had stepped in a puddle. I thought, “No problem!” because, last week after a morning of diarrhea and vomiting, our dog was confined to the basement while we were out of the house. When I came home, I found she had peed on the floor down there, which was a pleasant surprise considering what I was expecting to find. So, in this case, I was thinking the dog had managed to sneak downstairs and pee. Because, well…our dog is old and the basement is chilly. I can just see her dog brain thinking, “Ugh. The heat, the humidity…I’m not going out in that sweltering grass.” And, again because, “MOM!” usually means I’ll find something resembling pea soup on the walls, dog pee was not a bad alternative. This was not a big deal.

But, I couldn’t be so lucky to have dog urine on the floor. Instead, it was covered with four loads worth of laundry water, as well as what was run through the dishwasher. The toilets had backed up too, but thankfully no one had pooped since I started the laundry. There was only #1, which had been diluted by tons and tons of water, soap and bleach. But still it was a mess. One wall to the other, the entire floor covered with two inches of water. After a three hour clean-up, my husband called Roto Rooter. I didn’t want to call, because the last time they came out, the plumber brought a bucket into my kitchen and said, “Look here. This is what was causing your back-up”, and showed me a BIG wad of a certain, supposedly flushable, feminine product. Oh, that’s not embarrassing. I mean, what was I supposed to say? “Well, where in the world did those come from?” I may as well have passed gas right there in front of a complete stranger.

But, knowing that I had not flushed anything of the sort since that day, and because I couldn’t bear the thought of having sewage come up into our basement, I was happy to hear they could come out the next morning.

After lots of snaking, and having a plumber pull a tree root through our basement floor, we were back in business. And, let me tell you just how nice it is to be in business, when you have a family of four who needs to do their business.

Labels: House of Horrors

The other day, we woke up to find trucks parked in front of our house. Big, yellow, heavy-duty trucks. Because our neighbors are having their driveway completely redone, we didn't think another thing of it...that is, until a backhoe started digging up our front yard. My husband went outside to find there was a gas leak, though no one bothered to tell us. Good thing, considering I probably would've wound up in a panic, packed up the two kids and the dog (I would've left the fish), and ran from the house. The pipeline workers assured us it was okay to stay, and since they had to shut the gas off to work on the line, I felt pretty safe. That was at Noon, day before yesterday. At 9:30 that night, the gas company finally came out to turn our gas back on. Of course, and I say "of course" because we have the WORST luck of any people I know, when they went into our basement, they found FIVE gas leaks coming from the pipe in our house. Not that I don't want to know there are five gas leaks in my basement, but we had no control over this. This all started when the backhoe folks showed up that morning. Next thing we know, the gas company tells us we have seven days to fix it or they're shutting it off. Nice.

Since then, we've had two trips by a repairman and three from the gas company. We've had gas for approximately 10 hours, most of which was overnight. I do not know how people lived without hot water coming straight from a faucet. My kids have had to take cold-bordering-on-lukewarm baths the past two nights (only bordering-on-lukewarm because there was a little bit of water left in the hot water tank). It's no wonder women used to wear those big, long, dresses with lots of layers. It was to hide their stench.

In addition, my husband noticed this morning that the pipeline people, who had so delicately torn up our yard, also crushed the drain running from our TWO sump pumps to the street. Those sump pumps run all the time, so we need that drain. The pumps are the result of five different trips made to our house by a waterproofing company to fix our constantly flooding basement. We recently found out that was due to a broken water line in our front yard. We had it replaced a couple of months ago. The flooding caused a mold problem that actually DID send me into a panic and made me pack up the two kids (I left the fish AND the dog) and run from the house. We're going camping this weekend, and I think I'm going to feel like I'm living in luxury compared to this place.

I can not stress this enough people...buy a brand new house.

Labels: House of Horrors