Year For It

We have been getting more serious about finishing the basement.... this is the Year For It.

Unlike 2007 that we thought was the Year For It, but turned into the Year of Medical Expenses instead. So last month Dadguy finished off the electrical, and we paid a friend a few $$ to insulate, and we were ready for sheet rock.

We hired that out.

Yes, yes... I know. Hanging sheet rock is SO EASY, so SIMPLE, it's a total DIY! Yup. Not in Chaos. We never even once considered it. We got hold a company that comes highly recommended, and is quite cheap, and invited them into our home to make some money. They are not completely done, just a few details to hit before I write out the check... but here are some snaps. The texture we chose is what is being called "holey/smooth" around here, and some companies charge extra for it, because it is the look that many of the high-end homes are sporting nowadays. But the fact is, it's easier to do than the standard "orange peel" look. I like it, and since it costs the same, I opted for it even though the basement will not match the upstairs of our little rambler.

I think from these pictures you can tell that we are especially proud of that archway in the main room. Too bad it's unfinished state is one of the "details" that need finishing. We also need to rehang the lights before I can snap anything of the bathroom or laundry room. Need to hook back up the washer and dryer too, for that matter. The pile of dirties is, as LaLa says, "HUMONGOUS!" Also not shown, are the two bedrooms. They are rooms. Not nearly as fun as this room. And the cold storage room... we didn't bother to rock that. Is storage, and with no windows, that is all it will ever be.

Right now I am operating under the "don't ask, don't tell" policy, it never once having occurred to me to find out up front, if this company only hires legal workers. But the first day that the rockers showed up after the delivery of sheet rock was made, it belatedly dawned on me that perhaps the reason why the estimate was so low, was that maybe, everything was not entirely above board. Of the different crews that have been here over the past week and some, each batch of gentlemen has had a total of one worker that speaks English, and most of the conversations I have had with that one speaker seem to involve lots of nods, what pittance of Spanish I recall, and vague hand waving.

What can I say. Questionable ethics aside, they are doing a bang-up job. Sigh.

Also, belatedly, it has occurred to me that I have lost some prime blogging time where Birdie is concerned. At six years old she seems to have entered into that age of self-awareness... and exceptional reading ability, that requires me to think hard about whether she would be embarrassed if I happened to blog about this, that, or the other thing that she does or says.

The following may be redacted:

The first crew was a two man crew who sheet rocked our entire basement in less than nine hours. They wore tool belts with various sharp instruments on them, and handled their tools with the panache of a Japanese performing chef... everything but the volcano made of onion rings, I swear! For a while as they worked in the main room off the stairs, I let the girls sit on the stairs to watch as they did their magic. The guy who spoke no English started in singing a soulful tune that stopped just short of the "Ayyyye yiiiiie yi yiiiiiiE" that my Pa (grandfather) used to sing, that will always remind me of the Rio Grande for some unknowable reason.

Birdie watched and listened for a few minutes with the rest of us, then leaned forward to whisper to me, "Mama! I think that I am falling in love! With him!"

Shocked. My six year old girl with her first crush??!! GAGHK! I could only smile and nod and say something profound like "oh."

A minute later she leaned forward again, glowing and said "I am! I am in love with him!"

Thinking about it for a moment, I guess I would rather she have a first crush on a tune singing, competent, hard working man.. better than imagining up feelings for some effete and questionable rock star to my thinking. Still. Six. Years. Old.

Thinking over, I decided it was time for everyone to go back upstairs for drawing time.