In September, October, and November of 2015, I posted blogs about having my master bathroom remodeled. Having learned a lot through the experience, I’m happy to share four tips to help you weather the ordeal should you decide to do a similar renovation of your own.
Boxes take over my master bedroom.
1. Move out of the master bedroom for the duration of the work.
This saved time because the contractor could keep his equipment in the room, plus, he didn’t have to cover and uncover my furniture every day. Also, the new cabinets and fixtures could be stored in the bedroom for ready access when needed. Take enough outfits to last one week when you move into your temporary sleeping space. Replace or supplement with additional items on the weekend when construction isn’t happening. Make sure you have all the toiletries, soap, makeup, hair care products, etc., that you’ll need in your temporary bathroom as well.
2. Get a referral for a designer or contractor from someone you know who has had work done recently.
At first, finding a referral proved difficult. Based on responses to my inquiries, I gathered that not a lot of people have been putting money into home improvements since the housing market went bust. I eventually received a referral from my friend Anne. Ironically, Anne found her designer via a flyer. It worked out and Anne was very happy with the result. So although it’s possible to use advertisements to find someone who can do a good job, by working with Anne’s designer I had much more confidence and less anxiety.
3. When setting your budget, decide the maximum you want to spend then subtract ten percent from the total. Use the reduced figure to plan the remodel with your designer and/or contractor.
I was fortunate. After opening the walls, my contractor didn’t find any major issues that required costly fixes. The few minor issues he found could be handled within the original estimate. That isn’t always the case. By keeping a little money in reserve, I was in a better position to deal with unanticipated problems without spending more than I wanted to or could afford. And not having to spend my reserve meant I had a nice bonus to apply to something else—bathroom accessories!
Calder inspecting the work.
4. If you have a pet, decide what you need to do to keep your pet safe.
Calder is an indoor cat that has never shown any interest in trying to escape from my house. However, with workers and delivery people going in and out, I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t bolt outside if he got spooked. Also, it wouldn’t be safe if he got underfoot while someone carried a heavy, unwieldy package. So, I decided to lock Calder in my home office when I left for work and let him out when I returned. This required some time to prepare and make the office an acceptable place to keep my cat all day. By not leaving things to chance, you can have confidence that no injuries or issues will occur.
I hope these tips help you have as good of an experience as I did. Good luck and happy renovating!
The internet is old enough now to be new all over again. Ten years ago, “hyperlinks” were all the rage for how to get your website ranked higher in the search engines. Popular sites “recommend” other popular sites by exchanging links with them to produce higher browser rankings for both. Think of it as word-of-mouth advertising with an “e” on the front end or as the geneses of Facebook’s “Like.” Well, links are back in vogue again. Apple, Google and Microsoft make the browsers we all use to surf the web, and they battle each other with light sabers and dark forces for supremacy in this market. Shaking up the sequence algorithm – that’s the crunch and grind of data that decides who gets to be Number 1 – keeps the internet fresh. That’s a good thing because of how large and vast the beast is today, but it does make for more work at the individual website level…
One of the nicest things about running your own business is you get to set the schedule. Running a small business means you are never without something to put on that schedule, and January is one of those months when a lot of things come due. January is the time to compare and to project, too, and maybe make a few resolutions. In the online advertising business, it’s about keeping my clients ahead of the pack, or at least within their budget…
In the novel writing business, it’s hibernation time for me. The fingers are quiet but the mind is still churning out plotlines, ideas that need to ferment in the gray matter a while longer. It’s time to find an agent and a publisher, and I can’t wait to see what Jenna Jinks comes up with for cover art for Broken String, but there is nothing else I can do for the novel itself at this point. I bought the Writer’s Digest’s 2016 Guide to Literary Agents. The book-buying landscape has changed drastically since The Freya Project was published twelve years ago and there’s a lot to absorb inside the Guide’s 330 pages…
Funny thing, the first words you read on the cover are about how to register online to take full advantage of their free, one-year online membership that came with the purchase of this book about how to get your book into print…
When I published Seoul Legacy, The Orphans Flu in the summer of 2012, self-publishing did not have the respectability or acceptability it has today. Fifty Shades of Grey was barely fifty days old. Today, we have Kickstarter.com as one way of funding a novel, and I speak from first person experience when I tell you it can work. The Alice’s Adventures Under Ground Project was an overwhelming success and a class-act to boot. When my printed copy arrived, well before the promised date of Christmas, the first thing I unpacked from the box was a pair of white gloves. They were cheap knockoffs to what the British Library Historian might wear while handling the original Alice, but what a perfect gift for a facsimile book! That’s classy stuff for a classic story. What could I include with Broken String? Something outstanding yet inexpensive? Good ideas gladly accepted here…
February is a leap month this year… What are you going to do with your extra day?
Last September we took a cruise on the Danube and the Rhine Rivers. We started off in Budapest, Hungary and finished in Amsterdam, The Netherlands. The trip lasted two weeks and was lovely.
Living, eating, drinking and floating along was very relaxing. The boat stopped every day in a different city. Most of us got off and went with local guides to see the sights.
The excursions were very interesting. In the larger cities, the guides would first take us on a bus for an overview of the entire area. Then we would get off in the older parts of town and walk around. In the smaller towns, we were able to skip the bus part and walk right into town.
The guides were very well educated, spoke several languages and knew a lot of local history. They could easily talk about what life was like four or five hundred years for the people living there. They always shared lots of interesting details and usually a few jokes.
I started to wonder, as I had more and more of these experiences, why would such educated people be so happy and willing to work as guides? I don’t think they were paid very much. They were always very happy with the tips we gave them in Euros.
I kept turning this question over in my mind trying to think of a polite way to ask. Finally I found a solution. In the next town, as we were walking around, and I was looking down at the cobblestones so I wouldn’t trip, I started working my way up toward the front of the group.
I had to wait for the guide to stop talking. She knew so much and was so concerned that we learn every detail that she very rarely paused, even for a breath. She didn’t ever seem to be silent, even when we were making a difficult climb up a steep road to the castle at the top.
But, finally she did stop talking for a second. I sensed this was my big chance. So, before she could start in again, I started talking. I told her I enjoyed the tour, was learning so much, and was so impressed with how comfortable she was in English. Then I asked my question: Of all the jobs available, what was it about being a guide that made her choose this?
“Oh,” she confided, “there are no jobs…” Apparently most of these towns had no business or industry, other than that related to tourism. If they wanted to live there, they had to find work. Being a guide or working in the tourism industry were the only opportunities available.
In a few other towns, I asked the guides there the same question. They all said the same thing. Yes, the towns were beautiful, historic and they liked living there. But no, there were no other opportunities to use their language skills and university training.
It really does come down to games, Dominos or not.
This afternoon is my writing time. I’m sitting at a table against the wall under the lamp shade so I have light to type by. I just finished two Americanos, light on steamed milk. The first Americano had a smidge of gingerbread syrup to spice up the holiday season, and the second was just straight up. You’d think I was a serious coffee drinker, but, really, I’m just a novice who latched onto some impressive-sounding coffee name. I feel like I belong here.
Tuscan Cafe: environmentally friendly
I’m gathering my laptop and notebook to leave when a guy and a boy walk in and sit at the small circular table by the window. From what I overhear, he seems to be a Big Brother to the 13-year-old 8th grader.
I’ve got plenty of room on my rectangular table for everything I have, so I stop packing up and pull out my journal to record the moment.
BB leans forward and asks, “How’s the relationship with you and your brothers?” That’s what makes me think Big Brother in the first place. That and the time is now 3:30pm, which is just after school.
I overhear BB say he likes that the boy plays Minecraft, that “…it’s a game that requires you to work as a team.” I don’t know the game, but I feel like I should. I’ve heard it enough in pop culture media. Note to self: look that up.
Now BB teaches the boy how to play Dominos. This is significant because last night I watched my Season 2 DVD set of Major Crimes. The last episode I saw is what I call the Lost Horizons episode. Tim Conway plays the episode’s main character, Howard. In one scene, he flirts with the female lead, Capt. Raydor, mentioning Dominos.
Howard: “I could teach you to play Dominos, but I, uh, don’t have my Dominos with me.”
Capt. Raydor: “I already know how to play Dominos.”
Howard: “I bet you do.”
At the same time, in another room, Lt. Provenza questions someone else who talks about Dominos.
Provenza says, “It always comes down to Dominos.”
So here I am, watching BB teach the boy to play. I don’t know how to play Dominos, actually. I know how to match numbers but not the rules of scoring. I also know how to stack them in a row so they all fall down. Who plays Dominos?
I half listen as I write and half watch without trying to stare directly at them. I want to hear BB explain how to play. The big window gives me an excuse to look in that direction. If we accidentally make eye contact, I can glance over at the bike chained to the tree or the church across the street or the cars driving by on Center Street. I could even turn my head to the left and stare at the long, roomy wooden table that divides the coffee shop into thirds.
Coffee drinks and games: together time
My husband and I play games in coffee shops, usually Yahtzee in various Starbucks. It’s a Travel Yahtzee game we, ironically, bought at Starbucks a few years ago when they promoted toys and activities among their products. We have Travel Scrabble from that time, and we’ve bought other portable games through the years. These are our “date nights” because we get out of the house, spend time together and drink coffee. A long table like that one would be roomy, but distant. We choose cozy tables like this one I’m at or the one the guys are sitting at now.
I miss any Dominos explanation over the mellow music playing overhead, but the discussion of games continues. BB: “I wasn’t good at Tetris when I was young.” Now I have a frame of reference of the guy’s age. He’s a child of the 80s.
Then BB asks: “Is that coffee making you tired?”
Boy: “Yeah.”
Thirteen years old and introduced to coffee. That’s our society today.
BB and boy wrap up their visit and pack up the chunky white tiles into a snap-close metal box. I never hear how to play Dominos, but the game box looks like it was the original BB had as a younger guy.
I’ve seen some people play games in coffee shops. Last week, at Miracle Coffee, two women had a pile of board games, they looked old, worn and well-loved. Gathering their games up when we arrived, they saw us pull out our Travel Yahtzee. We all got talking about board games. They may have mentioned that there is a Triple Yahtzee game out there, a game I vaguely remember, like maybe I had it as a kid. Maybe I still have it. I’ll look through my childhood toy box in the basement.
Classic board games have become “the thing” these days. The box designs look retro, but they’re all too new, looking fake. I believe in using authentic items. In scrapbooking, I use the real photo, scan a copy if it’s precious and irreplaceable. In mixed media art, I incorporate real tickets, tea bag tags, and cancelled stamps. Because of this, I prefer original game boxes that hold the authentic game.
Games are a good thing, old or new, especially if they bring us together.
I’m not sure when it was that I first heard about the phenomenon of the green flash. I don’t remember when I first looked for it. I just know that I’ve been looking for years.
Throughout my lifetime of chasing sunsets, I never spotted a bright green glow rise above the setting sun. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of times I planted myself on a shoreline at dusk. My feet sifted the sand between my toes. I faced the horizon and watched the sun drop below the surface of the earth in the exact spot where the ocean met the sky. There, I admired a dramatic display of light as the sun and sky swirled clouds and blended colors together before resting for the night. Never did I see the end of a day punctuated with an exclamatory pop of green.
It was as if the celestial wonder was determined to hide from me. I began to doubt its very existence. I surmised that, even if it was real, catching a glimpse of the green flash at sunset was as unlikely an experience as viewing Halley’s Comet.
In 2007, Disney writers spun Caribbean lore to their advantage when they presented an explanation for the elusive sighting in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. Onboard a pirate ship and navigating a crew to Davy Jones’ Locker—the Underworld—Captain Barbossa asked deckhand, Gibbs, “[Have you] ever gazed upon the green flash?”
Gibbs began a dramatic response: “I reckon I’ve seen my fair share. Happens on rare occasion; the last glimpse of sunset, a green flash shoots up into the sky. Some go their whole lives without ever seeing it. Some claim to have seen it who ain’t. And some say—”
“It signals when a soul comes back to this world, from the dead!” crewman Pintel interrupted Gibbs and finished the statement.
Impressive storytelling, I thought upon hearing those lines, but I recognized the clever manipulation amongst them. Writers and producers had already created a fictitious world in which cursed men were unable to die and at least one mangy pirate looked strangely attractive. Why not suspend belief further by breathing life into something else that wasn’t real? I was now convinced that the green flash was just a myth.
My family and I stare too soon at the setting sun.
In March of 2015, I met a Caribbean woman who perpetuated the legend. Relatives and I spent one of our vacation days in Nevis. We waited for a ferry to take us back to St. Kitts where we had rented a condo for a week. The gatekeeper at the dock in early evening was the same person who braided tourists’ hair on the beach during the heat of the day. We didn’t recognize her, but rather she—quite observant and well acquainted with the comings and goings of visitors—noticed us.
Her name was Sweet Pea, and she created goodwill by meeting and greeting island guests. Among her favorites, I found out, were Kelly Ripa and her daughter, Lola. Sweet Pea had braided Lola’s hair, of course.
While my family and I talked with Sweet Pea, the night sky started to poke the sun downward. Our host became excited and told us to watch the horizon for the green flash. I had to look away from her for a moment in order to hide my smirk. I also couldn’t let her see me rolling my eyes in disbelief of this touristy tale.
A cloud moves in just as the sun is starting to widen at its base.
The sun continued to lose its commanding presence in the night sky. As if embarrassed by its decreasing status, the sun found a place to hide. It slipped behind a ship that had been docked and abandoned sometime long-ago in the tiny port. For sure now, we wouldn’t be seeing the green flash—or fabricating an impressive story of having seen it.
Sweet Pea didn’t give up. She urged my husband to hurry and make his way to the stationary ship for a better look. “Climb to the highest spot you can! Quickly! You don’t want to miss it!” She was insistent, so off my husband, Greg, ran with his camera in hand. I turned to my in-laws and dismissed the nonsense. “It’s just a myth,” I said. Sure enough, Greg came back without having seen a green flash in the distant horizon.
That night, we returned to our condo and researched this supposed phenomenon. Some of us just couldn’t let it go. That’s when I learned that I was wrong. Physicists, airplane pilots, NASA scientists, and layman all have something credible to say about green flashes. My family and I were intrigued to hunt again.
Two nights later, we packed our cameras and a telescopic lens and drove to a nearby beach. For awhile, it hurt to look at the setting sun, which meant we shouldn’t be doing that just yet. The sun needed to sink further down before it couldn’t damage our eyesight, but no one wanted to miss seeing the green flash. We continued stealing peeks.
A green tinge is beginning to form along the outer edges of the oblong-shaped sun as it sets below the horizon.
With precision, each of us gazed as the sun settled. A cruise ship passed by. A cloud rolled in. A small boat skirted off to the south. While all those others seemed disinterested, we were riveted and hopeful. The sun sunk lower and lower. It touched the surface of the water and continued sinking.
The perfectly round shape became more and more oblong, but tinier and tinier. In the next instance, the oblong image completely separated from and hovered over the ocean.
We were rewarded for our renewed faith. We saw a green bubble, an oval of light, a dot in the exclamation point that marked “The End!” of our search. . .
The marvelous green flash appears off the coast of St. Kitts, March 20, 2015. Photograph, Greg Bixby
The green flash appeared and disappeared almost immediately—less than a second or two, as we expected from our research. Greg’s timing was just right. He captured the moment in pictures!
My disbelief had turned to awe in two short days. It seemed as if true belief was a prerequisite to finding it.
I never expected to see it again.
Just seven months later, I had fun telling a golf partner about it while we finished a round at Torrey Pines in San Diego. I shared my story as the sun was quickly setting. My new friend had never heard of the green flash, so I told her to carefully watch the sun itself in its final performance of the day. Our husbands moved ahead of us, while we two ladies paused to look out over the ocean. This time there were no cameras to capture the sighting, but our hooting and hollering announced our thrill of seeing it.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be lucky enough to see the green flash for a third time, but I’ll forever be chasing sunsets in search of it. If I’m really blessed, I may even spot the epic blue flash.
Learn more about the green flash at astronomer Andrew T. Young’s page: www-rohan.sdsu.edu/~aty.
