My husband and I have some interesting conversations during dinner. At work, he is the only man on his team and he often comes home from work with tales of interesting work conversations that he was forced to over hear. He uses the work forced because there really isn’t anyplace for him to escape to. He works in a cube in the middle of other cubes, so he basically hears everything. And apparently most of the women have no real filter and nothing is off limits to talk about. The other day he came home and while we were putting dinner on the table he asked how many products I use on my skin. I looked at him and of course asked him why he was asking. He said that one of the women that he worked with was talking about how long it took her to get ready in the morning.
Me: “So how long did she say it takes her?”
Hubby: “Two hours. She said she has 28 different things she uses on her face every day.”
Me: “What the…who takes two hours to put on makeup?”
Hubby: “She does. She has a list.”
Me: “A list of what?”
Hubby: “A list that tells her what order to put things on. She lines them all up on the counter and checks them off one by one. She said if she goes out of order she has to start over and she might be late for work.”
I was busy trying to figure out what a person could possibly use on their face that would add up to 28.
Hubby: “So how many do you use?”
Me: “Let’s see, I use a facial cleanser in the morning and a moisturizer with sunscreen. Then I use a micellar cleansing water at night and then I use the facial wipes during the day to refresh. So that would be four items.”
Me: “Then that would be a total of zero for me.” I have rosacea, so make-up just irritates my skin, so I don’t use it.
Hubby smiled and kissed my cheek,”I know. You don’t need all that stuff. You’re beautiful just as you are.”
Yep, he’s a keeper!!!
Saturday was only supposed to be a slight chance of rain, so we decided to take a drive and see the sights. Of course, it rained most of the trip. Here are some pictures. Please ignore the rain drops on the lens.
All photos taken by Lenalee.
We have lived in many different states and have lived in both apartments and houses. And in all of those states, I have never seen houses in need of a bath before. Oh, I’ve seen houses in various states of disrepair. Some falling down due to neglect. Others being remodeled. But none have been dirty. And then we moved to Maryland. And here, houses need a bath every once in a while. The reason? Apparently the combination between the bay, the river and the ocean all make for an atmosphere where mold and algae grows on houses.
When we lived in Louisiana, where it is wet, humid and downright swampy all year round, the house we lived in didn’t look dirty on the outside. We would later learn that the house was filled with black mold inside, which made my son sick for the four years that we lived there, but the outside looked fine. In Kansas, it was windy and dusty. The combination of the two seemed to act as a sand blaster, so the house always looked clean.
Upon moving to Maryland, there were a plethora of signs offering power washing for your house. At first, I didn’t understand why the need to power wash a house, but when we began looking to buy a house, we quickly noticed the mold that seemed to grow on the houses. And once you notice something, you continue to notice that until that seems to be all that you notice about a house. The house that we bought was apparently power washed by the previous owners prior to putting the house up for sale. After we purchased it, I did wonder how often the house would need to be washed. Apparently it takes about three years for the mold to become noticeable and it was really only on one side of the house. The rest of the house didn’t show anything. The house shown isn’t ours, but shows what the issue is.
So my husband made a few calls and found a company that uses a natural cleaner that doesn’t affect the environment and has a barrier to make it harder for the mold to grow. And the house got a bath. Now, when you leave the house, there is a sort of minty smell, which is the cleaner and will apparently fade over the next few weeks. Of course, the day after the wash, a bird left it’s calling card on one of the shutters. Now if mother nature would help wash it away I would greatly appreciate it.
We have a new dress code at work. For those of us who work for the medical center, we were directed to go to our learning page where we were assigned the dress code policy. We were given a date that we had to complete the assignment which consisted of reading the policy and taking a test. The test asks if you have reviewed the policy. You answer yes and you pass the test. You are given a certificate and are now expected to follow the new policy. The new policy states that it also applies to those employees that are considered to be contractors. Unfortunately, the contractors were not given a copy of the policy, so they are not aware when they are violating the policy.
Some of the new dress code policies make you go hmm and wonder what they were thinking. Some of those are:
No Wrinkled Scrubs–Let’s see, you are a nurse in the middle of a 12 hour shift. How are your scrubs not going to be wrinkled?
If a male employee wears a sweater, he must wear a shirt and tie–He can’t wear a turtle neck or tee underneath. Really?
If a female employee wears a v-neck sweater, she must wear a shirt underneath–If I wear a v-neck, the shirt I’m going to wear underneath is probably going to also have a v-neck, so I’d be showing the exact same thing right? So is the problem the sweater or the v-neck?
No chiffon–I’m not sure I own anything made of chiffon, but I have made sure to cut the tags off of anything remotely silky. I can deny it is chiffon if I don’t have a tag that says that’s what it is right?
No clingy clothing–items listed were pants, leggings, tights, dresses, shirts. In other words, don’t wear anything that might be considered revealing. So you can’t wear tights under a non-clingy dress, but you can wear nylons under a regular dress. Are nylons made out of chiffon? If so, that’s banned.
Dresses and skirts must be no more than 3 inches above the knee. This is a good thing since tights and leggings have been banned. Short-short dresses definitely need something underneath when at work. Some people have no idea that they flash the patients when they bend over. Several women in my office, that are also contractors, violate this policy daily. They have yet to meet a short skirt or dress that they didn’t think was okay to wear to the office. They are wrong of course, but they don’t know it. When the patients see them we usually get the comments asking if they are coming back from the club, dressed in the dark and my personal favorite from a very elderly husband of a patient, are those girls working here or are they working girls out there? He pointed to the outside.
No Flip flops–really? This had to be made a policy? We work in a medical facility. There are not to be any open toed shoes of any kind. Including flip-flops. But apparently people have been wearing flip-flops in their offices and their argument is that they don’t deal directly with patients. And besides, they only wear blinged out flip-flops so those should be okay. Hmmm, no. Not okay and now banned.
No crop pants more than 3 inches above the ankle–really? So not 3 1/2 or 4 inches because that is moving into capri territory. And does anyone really know the difference between crop pants and capri pants? I don’t but apparently it is more than 3 inches.
So what about you? Do you have a dress code where you work? Do you follow it? Or are you a rebel and do your own thing?
And no, I’m not referencing the 80’s band by the same name. I’m talking real ones. Before moving to Maryland, I had never seen a seagull up close. I saw them on television and had read that they could be pretty bold when it came to food and stealing it out of a person’s hand. They aren’t really seen in Kansas. Here in Maryland, I live near a river and the bay, so you see seagulls. Of course, most of those sightings are in the parking lots of stores. The gulls have learned that parking lots are a good source of food. After all, people love tossing things away and a few don’t care where they toss their trash and parking lots seem to find a lot of it.
Last weekend, my husband and I were running errands. He wanted to run into Target and I decided to wait in the car. Within a few minutes, a mom came out of the store pushing a cart with her child in the main section. In the upper section were two drinks and apparently some sort of food. The mom stopped and lifted her child out of the cart to put them in the car, and in the blink of an eye, a swarm of seagulls swooped in and picked the shopping cart free of the food. I thought I was seeing things when I saw a seagull with a bag of chips flying away. Another lifted a cup from the cart and dropped it. The mother turned and looked, screamed and dashed into the back seat of her car. The seagull with the bag of chips dropped it a few spaces away and the swarm was all over it. Chips disappeared quicker than snow on a hot grill. The gulls were hovering over the cars. Two literally hovered in front of my car. I wanted to get a picture, but my purse with my cell was on the backseat and there was no way I was getting out of my car in the middle of a scene from The Birds.
Once the food was gone so were the birds. A few minutes later my husband came out of the store. As we drove out of the parking lot we passed the seagulls sitting on the ground about twenty feet away. “I always wonder why seagulls seem to hang out in parking lots,” my husband stated. “You should have come out two minutes ago.” I replied. “You would know exactly why they hang out here. It was an all you can eat buffet. They apparently like potato chips.” I don’t think he believed me. But he will. Next time I’ll have my cell close at hand.
I blame the taxes. Every year when my husband starts the process of getting things together to do our income taxes things around the house gets a little crazy. It starts with him gathering all of the documents together and pulling those into the tax software that can be pulled in electronically. Once he starts entering data, I usually hear cussing and grumbling and updates being yelled upstairs, such as “we’re in the red. Son-of-a-mother f#$%&!” But this year was different. I didn’t hear cussing or grumbling. We were in the green and the conversation from downstairs was more of “we’re getting money back. We should think about bringing Chris in and painting the downstairs.” Chris is the general contractor that has repaired a section over our garage and built our deck last spring. So I began to think about finishing the man cave-media room.
Once the taxes were done, signed and e-filed, the conversation turned to saving money by replacing the ceiling tiles ourselves. Chris would still paint, but we would get the ceiling tiles from the home improvement store down the road and Chris would do everything else. We were picking up the first round of ceiling tiles, I say first round because more would be needed later due to a slight correction that needed to be made (note to self: just because a piece of tile looks like it is half of a big one, it isn’t and it means having to cut a lot of pieces to get the sized needed, which translates to more tile), my husband said that we should pick out colors. “I thought you picked out colors a few weeks ago,” I replied. He did, but that was at another paint store. We needed to find similar colors here, so we picked up paint cards to take home and hang them up around the room. He looked at the colors with all the lights on, just a few lights on and with only the pod lights on. He decided that the colors he liked the best were the first two that he had picked up. Down came all the other sample cards. “We’ll pick up paint samples and see how it looks on the walls,” he said. Of course we will.
Once the ceiling tiles were finished it was back to the home improvement store for paint samples. Not one color, but three colors in the same color family. He wanted the one coat paint that is has the primer mixed in. “That way it will go on in one coat.” he declared. “Why does it matter how many coats of paint Chris has to do?” I asked. He looked at me and the light bulb went on. “Did you ever call Chris to come out and give us an estimate?” I questioned. “What’s the right answer?” my husband asked. He knew the right answer was yes, and he is coming out tomorrow, Friday, Saturday. Something like that. The right answer wasn’t, “Well, I thought if we take this in stages, we can get it done ourselves on the weekends.” I looked at him like he was off his rocker. “The weekends.” “We don’t have to hurry, so it will get done when it gets done.” Now, I know my husband and while he says weekends, what he really means is that we will start with the belief that this will take several weekends, but at some point, he will start wanting to get it done sooner, so his weekends will probably be one weekend with several evenings after work.
So, the walls now have three different colors of paint just to make sure that the first choice really is the one we want to go with. It is. The walls have been patched, sanded, wiped down with a damp cloth to remove dust. The base boards have been cleaned in preparation for taping and all of the furniture is in the middle of the room and covered with drop cloths. Events tonight will not include a fire and a good book. Instead, it will be more taping and prep work. I am hopeful that painting will actually wait until the weekend, but I’m sure I will hear about just doing the cut in painting one night and will just go on from there until it is done. He’s like a freight train once he gets started.
My son asked how come we decided to start redoing the man cave and I may have been a little loud when I replied, “I blame it on the taxes!” My son looked at me and said, “You’ve been bamboozled by Dad.” Yes, I have and I will get him back. I just haven’t figured how yet, but I will. I will have plenty of time to plan while painting.