BOYEEE, YOU KNOW! BRING IT! AW HELL YEAH!

Hi everyone. I haven't blogged properly in ages. I hope to make it all up to you today. It's long, so just pretend they're all separate entries and you're the one who's behind and needs to get all caught up. Not me. Heh.

April 14: Got my hair done.

April 15: Decided haircut was Pretty.
Also, went to Santa Barbara for Easter, hung out with mAc's family, did a truckload of shopping in preparation for annual marketing conference. Purchased first pair of Really Huge Sunglasses to ever look good on me (not pictured... yet).


April 18 - 21: National Sales & Marketing Conference.
For which I crafted three completely kick-ass mixes named for our conference theme (Fun, Focused, Fearless!), led a fun and fabulous session on making the most of your Powerpoint presentation, and delivered some of the worst karaoke of my entire life. I think at this point, it was Raining Men. Hallelujah.


April 22: Had some lovely ladies over for tea, tiny sandwiches and lemon cupcakes.
(Note to self: Do not schedule parties, no matter how small, directly following a work conference ever. Again.)


April 25: Rob Zombie at the Wiltern.
A great show to be sure, but I was a little disappointed that he didn't have any go-go dancers in fetish costume to dance along to songs like "Living Dead Girl." I had to do all the go-go dancing by myself. Not that I mind.

So there we were at the show, in your basic Rock Pose (arms crossed/in belt loops, one foot forward, rocking front to back, head bobbing), enjoying the thumping and screaming of Zombie while a screen filled with anime, horror, death and porn flashed behind him, and as I'm watching the bazillionth animated bouncing boob on the screen it occurs to me, "I wonder if there are any gay Zombie fans? I wonder if there are any here?" At which exact point, no joke, my gay friend Robert taps me on the shoulder and goes, "Dinah? Is that you?" What are the odds? He was there because his brother manages the opening band or something (and I want to follow that sentence with "of course" but I don't know if that's bitchy). But he quite enjoyed Zombie's set. I believe those were his exact words.

April 28 - 30, May 3: Vegas, baby, Vegas
Vegas was fun, for the most part. The first trip, anyway. Actually, the whole thing was awesome except for the entire day I spent at the LV airport trying (and failing) to fly home standby on an earlier flight. That day kind of sucked.

The rest of the trip was a blast, though, and a delightful reminder about why we keep in touch with our friends out of town. Because, aside from being super cool and fun (duh), old friends are the ones that you can meet up with and just start chatting about whatever. No catch-up, no "So.... what's new since we last saw you?" Just a simple "How are you" and we're off.

The exclusive Scrubs party we got to attend was pretty cool, too. Everyone I met was so nice and happy and groovy--Dave Foley shared his bottle of vodka with me. And for anyone who ever worried about how I might behave when I've tied on one too many, worry no more. Evidently, I just get hyper-professional. I walked right up to Bill Lawrence, creator and producer of Scrubs, and told him, "Bill, I've met lots of people from both the cast and crew at this party tonight, and every single one of them has told me, individually and independently, that they love their jobs and love coming into work. And Bill, YOU create that environment, and make Scrubs such a happy place to work, and that's a really cool thing. And I know you have a hard time taking compliments, but you should know that." After which he kind of sputtered a thank you (he really can't take a compliment), and I just turned around and sauntered off.

Going back to Vegas for work on the 3rd was less fun, unless you count all the ass I kicked in my Big Important Client Meeting. That was totally fun.

**By the way, you should go ahead and assume that in between the dates listed here, I'm at the office working my ass off, or at home recovering from either work or travel. Meetings and conferences don't prepare for themselves, you know.

May 5: Captain Awesome turns 1!


May 6: Cinco de Mayo Part Deux: Revenge of the Tiki Gods vs. Captain Awesome
Really good friends Janice and Kelly came to stay with us from Seattle this weekend, and on Saturday we unveiled the glory of the completed tiki bar in the backyard. And celebrated Captain Awesome's birthday with a yard full of (mostly well-behaved) puppies and (mostly well-behaved) friends. With margaritas. Lots and lots of margaritas.


May 8,9: Flew to Chantilly, VA and flew back.
The weirdest part was never adjusting to the time zone change. I couldn't get to sleep before 1 am EST because my body thought it was only 10 pm, Pacific. And when, the next day, I finished my presentation at around 10:30, I couldn't help but feel in my bones that it was simply not right to have woken up, eaten breakfast, gone into the office, and completed a one-hour presentation all before 7:30 in the morning. WEIRD.

May 12-14: Birthday celebrating and wine tasting in the Santa Rosa
On May 13, 2006, my best friend from high school and beyond, Kate, turned 30. We kid about her being "30 going on 13" but the truth is I'm jealous because she's still so young and pretty.

We went to Korbel, Roshambo and Armida wineries, ending the day with a couple bottles of chilled, delicious sauvignon blanc and a fairly civilized game of bocce ball. At which I KICKED ASS, BOYEEE, YOU KNOW! BRING IT! AW HELL YEAH!

*ahem*

May 15: mAc & Dinah, one year and counting.
As mAc said, "Year one went down like a shot of Hangar One. Smooth and buzzy."

May 17: Sucked.
First, I got a ticket. For not stopping completely at a stop sign. Which... yeah, I fucked up and got busted, and it's totally embarrassing, but damn. That stupid ticket broke an over 10-year streak of NO traffic tickets.

Second, I spent all day in a Really Big REALLY Important Client Meeting, for which I had prepared and prepared and rushed all these materials that I normally do in about 2 - 3 weeks, but had about 4 days to throw together. And y'all? My shit was TIGHT. I was ready to ROCK. So, naturally, I never got the time or opportunity to present during the entire five-hour-long meeting. Which was awesome because, you know, I LOVE wasting my time.

May 20 - 25: In Chicago
I spent the Most Relaxing Weekend Ever with my old college friends, Ryan and Carrie ("Bell"). We ate good food, hung out with the pets (including a big, sweet horse named Louie), went to the Morton Arboretum, ate more good food, and talked and talked and talked. I haven't seen Bell & Ryan in nine years, yet we caught up like no time had passed. You know, the way you do with old friends. It was beautiful and amazing.

The rest of the time was spent at a conference for work, which. Eh. It was fine. I got some decent pictures, though.


Finally,
May 27-29: Big ol' heaping gobs of NOTHING
So nice. So necessary.

May 30: Back at it.
Hopefully the next entry will come faster. Many thanks to all y'all who keep coming back and reading! *MWAH*

the sun hates me

Well, the snowboarding trip was cancelled, so I can fret on that dilemma another time. I think I'm throwing a tea party on that day instead.

THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is something I am AWESOME at. Bring on the tiny sandwiches and cupcakes! Set the prettiest table you've ever seen! Pick just the right background music (60's defiant girl pop) for your guests!

It's funny the things that strike fear into the hearts of some and is easy as pie for others. And vice versa. Incidentally, I actually make really delicious pie--with crust from scratch--and yet I know lots of people who can ride a mountain all day who would barely know what to do with a frozen Sara Lee and tremble at the thought of hosting a party. So there ya go.

Speaking of things I'm good at, I just turned in an outline for a class I'm teaching in a couple weeks on Advanced Powerpoint, and as I turned it in I thought, "Damn. I am so good at this shit." It doesn't happen all that often, and it's nice, you know? Plus, I love teaching. I am so looking forward to this class.

In other news, I am sunBURNED. I hate my sunburn almost as much as the sun hates me, evidently. mAc and I spent all day Sunday waterproofing our new outdoor furniture and getting started on what will become the coolest tiki bar EVER. The day itself was lovely and productive. My back and shoulders are a lovely shade of magenta. And I even brought spf 45 outside with me, but just forgot to put it on until it was too late. Dumb. And also painful.

Mix of the Month: November

The November mix is different from all the others I've done, and you're not going to see the tracks listed here. But let me tell you why.

We finally finished our house, and by "finished," I mean that we got it to a point where we still have projects to do, but it is not only livable, it's beautiful. The big things are done. It's a lovely, happy, welcoming sanctuary. So far, the only picture available online is on mAc's blog, but there are more to come.

What does this have to do with the Mix of the Month? Well, to celebrate the completion of all of our hard work, we threw a party. I made a playlist on the iBook for this party, quickly dragging in every party-appropriate song we had in the library, importing a few party songs we didn't have. After dragging them all in, de-duping a couple repeats and hitting shuffle, my 2005 Party Mix was complete.

It contains 179 songs, or over 11 hours of music. I am SO not typing that up for y'all, no matter how much you beg.

It's not like I didn't have specific criteria for selecting songs--I did. I picked out dance songs, happy songs, groovy background songs, funny conversation-starting songs, and current singles spanning multiple genres, thus giving guests with a wide variety of tastes something to enjoy.

The funny thing is, I've been listening to this mix since I made it (to and from work all week and I still haven't gotten through all the songs), and I like every song. On the one hand, of COURSE I like every song. On the other, there are 179, and they are all over the map.

It's moments like this when I realize how lucky I am to have had such a musical upbringing. For those of you who don't know me well, I played the violin for roughly 20 years, starting out as a Suzuki student in Evansville, IN. I got pretty good, actually. Good enough to kick out a couple Mozart violin concertos, learn Vivaldi's Four Seasons (both violin parts) and lead the second violin section of Denver's Young Artists Orchestra the year we tackled my all-time favorite orchestral work, Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique.

Why on earth did I stop? Well, here's the thing about the violin: it's really, really hard. You have to play every day just to maintain your level of performance, and you have to practice several hours a day to really make that instrument sing. I never had the patience for it. Seriously, I'm lucky that I had any talent at all, because 9 times out of 10, I did all my practicing the day of my weekly lesson or orchestra rehearsal.

So, at a certain point, I stopped getting better. I actually remember what I was working on when that light bulb went on: Concerto No.1 In G Minor For Violin And Orchestra, Op.26, Max Bruch. Oh, man. Do yourselves a favor and go get a recording of this concerto (there's a lovely recording with Perlman performing this, and Mendelssohn's violin concerto in E minor, on Amazon, although on this piece I kind of actually prefer Joshua Bell's slightly edgier approach). It's so sensational, I can't even deal. The first movement alone makes my toes curl.

But I couldn't play it. Try as I might, I could not make this concerto work on my violin. And I really tried with this one. I loved the music so much, I was desperate to make it sound beautiful. This piece was my passion, not to mention my comfort on rough days in college. I'd have to be kicked out of the practice room in my dorm after quiet hours on some days, because I'd just devote so much time just trying to get it right. I'd stretch my fingers on the octave chords, do the runs over and over... At the end of all my hard work, I basically go to the point where I could make the first few bars of the intro kick ass, but the rest just sounded... not bad? But not good enough.

That's when I realized it was probably a good idea to think of other areas to where I could redirect my passion for music. I was never going to be good enough to master my favorite concerto, much less have the patience I'd need to master everything else I'd have to learn in order to play professionally. Not to mention, there were all kinds of things I didn't want to have to play, and when you're in an orchestra you kind of don't get a choice. They don't care if you find Mahler overbearing and boring if that's what's on the program.

Today, I find that it makes me sad to think of the concerto I never mastered, and my beloved instrument collecting dust in the closet. It's not out of the question that I'll bust it out again someday, especially now that we have a house and I don't have to worry about my squawks being heard through thin apartment walls. (I'd love to play my violin in a band, as long as I'm being honest.) That said, I am far more happy than sad to have had those 20 years playing the violin. Are you kidding me? What an amazing gift! Not only did I enjoy experiences and met amazing people I never would have otherwise, but it gave me an appreciation for ALL music. So much so that it remains a huge part of my life.

So much so that I make a party mix of some of my favorite songs, and it's over 11 hours long.

One last note (ha ha! I kill me). I recently discovered that my old violin teacher, the one who graduated me from Twinkle to Tsaichovsky, has a little web site. There's not much too it, but look at what I found on her quotes page:

THAT IS WHY I TEACH MUSIC

"NOT because I expect you to major in music.
NOT because I expect you to play or sing all your life.
NOT so you can relax or have fun

BUT - so you will be human
so you will recognize beauty
so you will be closer to an Infinite beyond this world
so you will have something to cling to
so you will have more love, more compassion,
more gentleness, more good ... in short,
more life.

Of what value will it be to make a prosperous living
unless you know how to live?"

Author Unknown

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving from the Arrowead Ramada in Phoenix, AZ! We've driven over the desert and through the holiday traffic to a hotel near Grandmother's house. A lovely hotel with paper-thin walls, close proximity to traffic, a noisy refrigerator, and 2 double beds so that we can sleep right next to my sister in law and her husband, who snores.

Today, I am thankful for Tylenol PM.

But Seriously. I love Thanksgiving, and I love that it gives us materialistic, self-absorbed Americans a day to reflect on what's important.

I am thankful for my family, who is enjoying good health. I am thankful that my mom's hip surgery went well and she can now walk without pain. I am thankful for my beautiful husband, who's currently quizzing me on my "Manifesto of Evil" and tickling my toes as I type this.

I am thankful for good friends--the friends I've made in LA with whom I've become so close, and the friends I've made all over the country throughout the years who continue to stay in touch.

I am thankful for mix CDs from friends, Veronica Mars, book recommendations, and that I get to see The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe on the big screen this holiday season. I'm thankful for my beautiful red Fluevog boots I got earlier this year, and will be wearing to Thanksgiving dinner today. I'm thankful to have gainful employment that allows me to buy fabulous boots.

I'm thankful for our beautiful house, and I am SUPER THANKFUL that it's finally done enough to enjoy... for now. I'm thankful for Captain Awesome, and for his fabulous foster parents, who loved him so much they volunteered to keep him with them this weekend.

I'm thankful for a million other things. It's been an amazing year. I hope everyone is enjoying a fabulous Thanksgiving today.

"My girl-crush thinks I'm gay."

Or, non-sequitur bullets for the blogger on the go.

1) My darling friend Loren, whose quote headlines this list, does not have a blog but she totally should.

2) Fall is the best season EVER. I love autumn the best because:

• The weather cools off enough for cute jackets and boots.
• New fall TV.
• The best films, usually for Academy consideration, are released in the fall. (Best year ever: 1999)
• I look hot in orange.
• When it starts to rain, I want to bake things and stay home and hunker down with a warm throw and a Twin Peaks marathon.
• The air smells better, like mountains and leaves and bonfires and homecoming football games.

And the absolute best thing about the fall:

• Halloween.

3) Speaking of Halloween, the new decorations at Illuminations are awesome.

4) Last night, I put away more things around the house, including a bunch of dishes and things in our new sideboard that mAc put together. Which means our new soup tureen has a home.

5) I can't believe that I have a SOUP TUREEN in my SIDEBOARD.

6) Do you even know what a sideboard is? It's a little buffet/dresser type thing that goes in the dining room. It's part of the dining set we just bought. A set, as in table, sideboard and matching chairs.

7) Note to self: more rock shows. Less Ikea.

8) Veronica Mars, aka the BEST TV SHOW EVER, starts its second season tonight. Do yourself a favor, and set up your TiVO. I know, I know, it's on UPN, but trust me. It rocks. If not me, then trust Joss Whedon, Kevin Smith and Damon Lindelof. They love it too.

9) I actually met Kristin Veitch (from the link above) when we were in Hawaii. She was super nice, and I'm bummed that we didn't get to chat more and geek out over favorite shows like Veronica Mars and Lost and Arrested Development. The woman's got taste.

10) I don't have ten things for this list. It just seemed like I should end on a nice round number.

11) No, wait! Yes I do--I've been meaning to say this for ages, but if you live in SoCal and are looking for a good stylist, go to Frenchy's in Burbank, ask for Petrina, tell her Dinah sent you. She is the best, and keeps my hair looking all kinds of pretty. (The stray hair in the bangs is totally my fault.)

12) How cute is our dog?

*mwah*

No time for love, Dr. Jones

Well, there's always time for love. But there's no time for anything else.

Movers show up tomorrow. Our house is painted (yay!), but our apartment is in a slight state of, um, chaos. To make matters more interesting, I'm spending moving day at work (not helping move) giving 3 consecutive presentations to one of our top clients, because life is funny like that. Not funny "ha ha," per se. More funny, "I'm breaking out in hives and feel like my head could explode into pulpy bits any minute."

We're almost there, and we're hangin' in. But damn. Moving sucks.

(And the Understatement of the Year Award goes to...)

The people that you meet each day

We're still getting to know the neighbors on our new street. There's the older guy two doors down who's shaped a bit like Tweedle Dee, has fat, cigar-like fingers, often wears the same overalls/plaid-shirt/straw hat combo when he putters in his garden, and can tell you great stories about the Valley in the 50's.

There's the Car Family across the street who, at any given point in time, have at least 6 different cars parked in their garage, driveway and on the street in front of their house. Hot rod projects, a Porsche, some low-key sedans. Nothing on blocks or anything, all pretty nice. It makes me wonder, are they really popular, do they really like cars, is it a family of mechanics? It's easy to assume they're up to something more nefarious than that, like drug dealing, but I don't get that vibe at all. I mean, except for all the cars.

My favorite so far is the Armenian family next door. The patriarch was the first person to welcome us to the neighborhood, and he stops by often to check on us and give us advice. It's not unusual to see him wandering outside of his house late at night, in his shorts and white tank top, smoking really long, skinny Virginia Slims 120s. He has a daughter in his teens who was appropriately embarrassed when he made her come over and say hello. And he has a very large, extended family that comes over frequently for parties in the backyard.

These neighbors have an entire kitchen on their back patio, including extra fridge and an oven/stove. This past Saturday, they had the whole clan over for swimming, music and food. You could hear the matriarch of the family lecturing all the other women who were cooking, "It has to be fresh. It's so much better when it's fresh! You could get from store, but it's better when fresh. Here! Peel this!" As the night went on, the music got louder an louder. (Not that we minded--it just means that when we want to party in the backyard with music? No problem!) At one point I was just listening to their tunes and suddenly turned to mAc and said,

"Are we listening to Armenian country music?"

Yup. We sure were. Awesome.

Later that night, our buddy stopped by to share some of their feast with us. Specifically, he just kind of walked in, yelling for mAc, and proceeded to shove some kind of delicious tortilla-wrapped pork roast down his throat before giving either of us a chance to say, "Why, that would be lovely, thanks!" As soon as he saw me, he went back to bring me food as well, again giving me barely the chance to say thank you before I was chewing. Generous, but a little intense. As far as neighbors go though, it could be worse.

When we last saw our hero...

He was ripping out linoleum and tearing the over-sized antenna off of our roof and making cheeseburgers with a spackle spatula. In other words, mAc has better updates on the progress of our house than I, so check out his blog.

I can tell you, however, that we have color on the walls! It needs a second coat, so I don't have photos yet, but I will later.

*waves* Hi Mom!

bullets

If I find the time to breathe, then there will certainly be more detail to follow, but for now, here are the bullets, in no particular order:

• I went to Chicago for work, and got to spend less than 24 hours with a woman I was best friends with growing up, but haven't seen for over 10 years. It was trippy, cool, overwhelming, intimidating, amazing, and fun. Kind of like my friend herself, actually.

• Work has officially gone ALL ASS UP. On the patented, 1 - 5 Dinah Scale of How Work is Going (tm):

1 = groovy

2 = fine-but-I-spent-too-much-time-online-today

3 = kinda wonky, yo

4 = Suck-tastic

5 = ALL ASS UP

• House is coming along but I haven't spent enough time there working on it. There's primer on some of the walls, including the really really gross room. The floors are done, we have AC, we bought tile and the new windows are on order. I'm fairly certain we've run out of money, but we continue to just Go For It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111one.

• We're adopting a rescued puppy. His name is Captain Awesome. He is, in fact, awesome.

NoHo Horror

I think our filthy house is trying to tell us something...

I am happy to announce...

Right. Remember that hardware I couldn't get off our cupboards last night? The gunk-covered hinges and handles that wouldn't come out?

I went back to them today. And, for the most part, got all of the pieces removed. Except for this one. This one handle with the one screw that would. not. turn.

Well, I am happy to announce that after the use of the power drill, 3 screwdrivers, a utility knife, a hammer, lots and lots of chemicals and some serious swearing, sweating and general cajoling, I can finally say

I got a screw loose.

so much gunk

Imagine this: You're attempting to take hardware (handles, hinges, etc.) off your kitchen cupboards. You've got a power drill, the correct bit, and you've got it pressed into the screw straight on, perfectly perpendicular to the cupboard, with some weight behind it. Just like Amy Wynn showed you on Trading Spaces all those years ago. And the screw. won't. budge. Why?

Because there's just so much gunk in it. Say it with me:

Ew!

polishing a turd

Perhaps you've heard the expression, "Silk purse out of a sow's ear," which is gross when you really think about it. Basically it means turning something icky into something beautiful and fabulous.

My dad has a similar saying, that goes, "You can't polish a turd."

In other words, if it's that gross, flush it and move on.

I bring this up because we went into our new house tonight. We showed up with cleaning products, trash sacks and a bottle of champagne in a snazzy little bucket to keep it cool. (Big shout outs to Anna and the Burgans, who got us the champers and the bucket, respectively. That's right, Anna. We busted out the Veuve.)

When we got there, the previous owner was still on the property, watering stuff. They'd just tented for termites, and he wanted to water all the plants right away to make sure they didn't absorb too many chemicals or something. Personally, I think he was also saying his last good-byes to the house, so we held back a little at first. But then we let him know we were there and he let us know a couple things about the place, and then went on his merry way.

Then we went in.

The first thing you need to know about our new house is that we are the second owners. The first owners, who purchased it when it was built in 1953, were smokers. And I'm not talking, "Oh my, I'm totally buzzed, can I bum a cigarette and smoke it outside?" smokers. I'm talking at least pack-a-day, in the house, cancer be damned! smokers. And they did this for, oh 20 years or so? More specifically, since the last time this place was painted (we're guessing 70's), people have been smoking in it. Leaving nicotine stains EVERYWHERE.

That shit is naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasty.

The first thing that hits you when you walk in is the muggy heat (no central air). Then the smell. mAc says it smells like Germany. I say it smells like Old Smokers House. I've only spent a day in Germany, so there's an excellent chance we're both right.

The second thing we noticed: this place is dirty. No, really dirty. Christina Aguilara, extra R's, Dirrrrty. I'm talking grime so thick you can't even tell where the thread in the screw is, much less get a screwdriver in there. And if we're talking hardware on, say, the kitchen cabinets? Oh, you can take the screws off. Eventually. That doesn't mean the handle is coming off without a hammer. That, my friends, is some serious mothahfuckin' GRIME.

Then we started noticing everything else. The chipped windowsills, the grody switchplates, the hole in one of the windows, the warped spot on the hardwoods in one of the rooms. The ants. Oh, dear lord, the ANTS. If Dreamworks is filming "ANTS 2: Electric EW!" in our house, they're in for a big setback when we show up with some industrial strength RAID, yo.

All that said, it's a good place. It's going to be a GREAT place. I mean, just cleaning it will do wonders. Paint will work miracles. Little things like new switchplates and hardware and big things like new appliances with move it into the 21st century.

We also noticed a couple cool things. Like where someone carved "July, 1959" into the patio outside the garage, letting everyone know when that garage was built. Best of all, the wall in the kitchen where all the grandchildren grew up, and were measured. In recent years, the house has definitely had most of its charm covered in a thick layer of filth. But at one time, probably for many years, it was a home. I can't wait to restore it to that condition.

So in conclusion, we're not, as my dad would say, polishing a turd. It's what's under the turdy grossness that we need to polish. And that? Is going to gleam.

many reasons to be happy

Today, I have many reasons to be happy. I've got Lesley Gore singing her defiant little ass off in my speakers, an ice cold Diet Coke to swallow, a bag of delicious M&Ms to savor and a screening of my new favorite movie tonight.

But mostly? Mostly we get our keys tonight. To our HOUSE. We're very excited. And, yes, it's a fixer (mostly cosmetic), but when we get done with it? It's going to be

AWESOME.

Cry as you kiss all your money goodbye

We bought a house!

That's right folks, after several long months of hunting and searching for an affordable, non-grody condo in a non-sketchy area of Los Angeles, we finally gave up. And bought a non-affordable, kind of grody house in North Hollywood instead. We are officially in escrow.

Escrow (noun): A period of time that begins with having your offer accepted and ends with getting keys, and is filled with lots of document signing and faxing, inspections that will make you cry as you kiss all your money goodbye, day dreams about paint colors and new floors, several magazine purchases in the Elle Decor/Home & Garden vein, misguided notions about how you can not only save a dead lawn, but convert it into a lovely, landscaped paradise, and lots and lots (and LOTS) of general anxiety.

We're very excited. The neighborhood is good, the neighbors are a mixed bag of families, young adults and geezers that have lived there since their house was built in the 50's. It needs a lot of work, as it hasn't experienced any changes--other than a gradual nicotine staining on the walls--in about 20 years. The good news, however, is that the things we need to do to get it up to code are not that bad, and the rest can be washed off and covered with a fresh coat of paint.

As for the outside, we really just need some new plants and flowers in the front, and a complete overhaul in the back. You know, little things. But with a little vision, a few hundred trips to Home Depot, some hired help, and more cash than we actually have, I think we can really make this place shine. Behold, the house with some initial paint/gardening plans, courtesy of Microsoft Paint: