Nate wanders into the room, dragging a toy broom and a plastic workbench leg.

Nate: “Dada, what if I said ‘Three Popcorn Leg’? And then… and then you said ‘Three Popcorn Leg!’”

Dada: “I don’t know…”

Nate, turning and leaving: “Three Popcorn Leg.”

Dada: “…how to answer that, man.”

We’re getting our third floor ready for human habitation. When we moved in eight years ago, this level had no heat, no AC, and no electricity. It was also home to a well-established bat colony - the largest they’d seen in 5 years, according to the Maryland Department of Natural Resources - that had had the run of the place since roughly the Hoover Administration. They used to poke their wings out under the door at night.

The bats, not the Hoover Administration.

So we evicted them, had all evidence of their 50+ year-occupancy removed via HEPA vac and bleach, installed AC and heating, installed storm windows, and wired the place up to code.

Oh, and we also had water leaks. And when I say ‘water leaks’, I mean the water was coming through the roof, through the attic, through the third floor, and into my desk chair on the second floor. Inconvenient. So we had all those dealt with also. However, coupled with the bats (and earlier futile attempts to deal with the bats), they had done some long-term damage to the plaster and lathing, mostly in the ceilings throughout the level. The original wallpaper was tattered and hanging in places like bandages from a mummy.

We decided to start with one of the rooms that was in the best shape, and turn it into a workout room. Originally, we were just going to clean everything really well. But one thing led to another, and before you could say ‘Random Orbital Floor Sander’, we were renting shit from Home Depot that required two people to carry to the car.

It also turned out that, like everything else with this house, she wasn’t going to let us off easy. We discovered that there was lead paint on the floor, so we had to dress Jill up like Dexter and hermetically seal her into the room with all the equipment before she could start sanding.

“Buhbee, put your hand up against the plastic so I can take a picture of it.”

While we were at it, we decided to get the center hallway knocked out too. More to follow when we’re actually finished with the painting and putting polyurethane on the floors. Until then, click below to see all the pictures to date.

This is one of the numerous old gas and electric fixtures original to our house. Sometimes, it contains a compact fluorescent bulb, and other times, the finger of a jitterbugging ghost.

front

back

The front of the card this year was all taken in one shot - there was no Photoshopping necessary other than for the border and the text. In years past, I’ve had to take the best elements from several pics and combine them all into one shot. This time, after the turkeys were wrapped up and trundled off into the front yard, all that Jill had to do was stand behind me and yell over my shoulder, “Hey boys, you know what we’re having for dinner tonight? Spaghetti and POOPballs!”. I found out later that she’d been saving that one.

Liam and Nate looked at one another for a beat, then burst out laughing, and Sam joined in simply because the other boys were laughing, and they were holding his mittens. So, poop joke = mirth, togetherness, and what can easily be mistaken for brotherly love.

*sound of camera clicking*

The back was done in Photoshop with the help of my Intuos4 PC Tablet. Initially, the cards came back from the printer and the yellow snow looked lime green. So we had to order another set pronto. Unfortunately, after a week of waiting for the mistake to be corrected, those cards also arrived with lime-green whiz. In the end, we decided to send them out anyway. It was either that, or we were going to have to hang onto 500 holiday postcards until St. Paddy’s Day.

As usual, my part in all this was mostly that of a Photoshop Puppet and Printer Liaison.

It was all Jill’s idea.

(To be visited by the Cards of Christmas Past, click here)

Extreme tall angle