Welcome to Chez Cliff!

Before leaving for vacation last week, I spent several days playing "phone tag" with the Flooring Guy.  When I was little, tag use to be fun.  Now that I’m older, wiser, and crankier the games of tag are no longer fun.

He was scheduled to start Monday (yesterday).  But there was some damage to the hardwood that needed to be repaired.  His decision was to still start the job on Monday but have his guys come last week to repair the floor.

When asked on Tuesday when his guys were going to show up, he said "Today".

Needless to say, I am always confused as to when "Today" actually is.  Mikki has spoiled me with her definition of "Today".  But with FloorGuy, his definition allowed Life to turn on the spin cycle and put me into this alternate reality where "Today" does not exist.

After three days of "Today" had passed, I stopped getting phone calls.  The assumption was they were either fed up with me or were planning on coming "Today".

During the voyage to my humble abode, I decided to stop by the houses.  Low and behold, "Today" was actually Monday (yesterday).  The floors are being sanded.  And the repair work is being done right before the giant sanders do their magic on the floor.

Being color challenged I was not able to pick out an appropriate stain for the floor.  He said he would get several samples and I could choose which one.  When I asked him for a time, he said "Today".  I responded with "Well, call me when you have the samples ready."

A phone call will probably be easier than trying to guess when "Today" is.

With wheels up at 6 a.m., I am soaring back to Los Angeles.

Tomorrow posts will resume on the houses and with any luck some much needed photos.  A problem with my digital camera has prevented me from showing the progress that has occured.

I will see you tomorrow.

What is it with working construction and greasy food?

Every time I have performed work on a home, my body instantly starts
craving nasty, greasy, deep-fried food.  And I am not alone with this
affliction.  Go to any hamburger joint around lunch time and there are
painters, plumbers, electricians all scarfing down a third of a pound
of prime USDA grease.

Within a few blocks of my house, there is a mom & pop greasy spoon
diner.  Only opened 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., this place only serves the
lunchtime crowd.  And that’s alright.  If you’re going to do one
thing, do it well.  Paint splashes all over my legs, face and arms I
have the appropriate "badge of honor" to blend in with my fellow
construction mates.

Flo, the waitress, brings me my grease burger with fake cheddar cheese
on top.  Fat, heart-stopping onion rings on the side.  What is that
green stuff on my plate?  Is that a vegetable?  Get that crap out of
here!

After five hours of painting and inhaling fumes, it never crosses my
mind that pan-seared foie gras, with a reduced raspberry glaze would be
an acceptable lunch.  A glass of Chateau LaTour?  Pffft.  Coffee.
Black.

Since this is probably encoded into our genetic makeup, two possible
theories are offered.  Choose the theory which matches you belief.

Creationism:  "And on the seventh day, God rested with a grease burger and onion rings."  Genesis 2:2 (New Clifford Version)

Evolution:  Gar the caveman wanted a space to put his new 62" flat
screen rock.  After a hard day of beating his cave wall with a club, he
became hungry.  His wife, Urg, ate all the fat free Yoplait yogurt and
left only hamburger.  Gar ate the burger and liked it.  He told his two
sons, Murmf and Guh, to eat burger when they grew up and made caves of
their own.  Gar was then eaten by a sabre tooth tiger.

My good friend Anne picked out the interior colors for the house.  My instructions to her was I wanted warm colors but nothing too wild.  The same vein of colors; nothing contrasting like blue in one room, green in another.

In this particular house, the lighting is our biggest concern.  One room is particularly well lit while the others have no real natural light at all.  One bathroom is a cave, the other is sitting in the path of the afternoon sun.

But only in the afternoon.

When Anne handed me the color palette, my first thought was this was a bit over the top.  But for colors I have learned to trust her guidance.  She has yet to steer me wrong.

Don’t laugh at the names of the color.  The naming convention must be a given to LSD junks.  Who can see "Quiet Splendor"?  Well get your LSD glasses on because you’re about to.

Magnolia:  Kitchen and Laundry Room	Quiet Splendor:  Living Room
Pinch of Pearl:  Master bedroom and Bath	Pumpkin Seed:  Main bathroom
Daystar:  Two bedrooms and hallway	Sparkling Cider:  Ceiling

It is not often I comment on the overall economy.  Reading this article, I nearly fell out of my chair.

Mr Ben Stein wrote this:

Subprime is a small
sector of the mortgage market, as I’ve said before. It might be 15
percent at most. The defaults and delinquencies in this sector might be
roughly 15 percent, which makes for a total problem rate of about 2.25
percent of the whole mortgage market.

Many articles, with commenters, are always railing about how bad the
subprime market really is.  While I have always known the overall
problem is not as drastic as the media makes it, it is still a
problem.  And when the media reports: "Sub-Prime exploded another 50%!"
they are often times refering to the overall percentage moving from 1%
to 1.5%.

He
also points out something which news outlets choose to ignore.
Foreclosures are always auctioned off.  They do not disappear into the
ether, contribute anything.

This is not any attempt on my
part to ignore bad news.  I just wish the media would be presented in a
fashion whereas the entire picture is revealed.  Not just "cherry
picked" to generate the most sensational piece.  But that’s why the
blogsophere exists.  News available everywhere.

I’m surprised to
see this actually published somewhere.  But I highly doubt Brian
Williams or Katie Couric is going to run with this story.