Ack!

He's back and now President Obama's home refinancing spokesman:

So glad to know that "Obama" is no respecter of hair or beards and willing

to put every and anyone to work...

Fire

They say that people in the Olden Days were smaller than us. No McDs, no tv/couch combos, no video games and no soda or coco chums (name that book all you literary-ists out there) combined with scurvy = little people. Turns out that the "Olden Days" were as recent as 1948 in Arlington Co Virginia, a fact I recently discovered when I realized that all my door frames are not a few but actually many inches narrower than today's.

This wouldn't be an issue and I'd continue sucking in every time I walk through a door except that I purchased a washer/dryer unit and it wouldn't fit through the door frame into the utility closet. Since I didn't want to use it a ridiculously expensive coffee table I was left with only one option: cut apart the door frame.

Not a big deal unless your door frame is MADE OF METAL and FILLED WITH PETRIFIED PLASTER (reference old apartment conversation above).

Unable to saw apart the metal or plaster (believe me, I tried), I began pleading pathetic at church where I was introduced to Gualberto whom I was told would "appreciate the work". I asked him if he could cut apart my door frame. Of course, he said.

After multiple trips to Home Depot, a trip to his storage unit and a side offer to also reweave my unraveling dining room Amish-style chairs (he responded to my skeptism with, "yes, Bolivians learn to weave even like the Amish as young children..."), he finally commenced work:



For the next 45 minutes, I experienced true terror. Truly - terrified (and I consider this noteworthy as things don't normally scare me - except sharks, but we've already covered that on this blog).

After moving all flamable materials out of the 10 foot spark radius, I finally just stood by with 911 programmed into my phone and a very large glass of water wondering why I'd never had that "plan your fire escape route Family Home Evening" with myself.

Ultimately, he succeed. My apartment is still standing. The washer/dryer is installed. But the acrid smell of "burnt" lingers causing my fingers to instinctively start unrolling that bedsheet window rope (anyone, were Anna and I the only ones who romantically dreamt that up in our early days?) that I've since asked a small  Bolivian child to weave for an escape route out the bedroom window in case of a fire...

Worth A Try

This one told me that my apartment was "very dusty". 

I told her I had an idea for a fun game. 

She said, "What is it?"

I said, "I'll give you a piece of cloth and you can catch all the dust."

She said, "No thanks, that doesn't sound fun."

I tried.

PS - it took forever to get the picture above.  Mostly, all I got was shots of this:

She may be four, but don't underestimate this one.

She knows her mind and takes no survivors.

Nature and Nurture

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree (and what a lucky little apple she is because of that)