At the end of the day, the floor guy is just getting started

If you are looking for old, reclaimed wood flooring, the kind that has been sitting around in someone's attic or barn for 135 years just waiting to be discovered and sold for $1,769.00 a square inch, it takes a great deal of patience and skill to find just the right person from which to buy your wood. Joe and I seem to have what it takes to find this sort of person. The sort of person who knows floors better than anyone else. The sort of person who talks about floors more than anyone else. The sort of person who talks about every other topic completely unrelated to flooring more than anyone else.

We had to drive into the wilds of Pennsylvania to find this sort of person. Roughly half of his conversation -- which, had we stuck around long enough, looked to continue into January -- consisted of certain key phrases, critical to the explanation of antique flooring, as shown here in a sample conversation:

Him: At the end of the day, we want you to be happy with your floor. D'ya know what I mean?

Us: (nodding happily)

Him: And at the end of the day, if you go somewhere else for your floor, you just won't be happy. D'ya know what I mean?

Us: (nodding)

Him: Some customers, at the beginning of the day, they're all excited 'cuz they find some other guy out there who'll give 'em a floor for $2.00 a square foot. But when it gets in the house, and they see what junk it is, at the end of the day they're real disappointed, not like they were at the beginning of the day. D'ya know what I mean?

Us: (nodding gravely)

Him: Now here, we do things different [alternative meaning: expensive] from other guys, d'ya know what I mean? I mean, at the end of the day we've handled a piece of wood eight, nine times.

Us: (nodding dully)

Him: So you won't be gettin' a floor from us that's gonna splinter at the end of the day, d'ya know what I mean?

Us: (nodding off and mumbling) Is it the end of the day, yet?

Of course I am exaggerating somewhat. He did not say, "D'ya know what I mean?" all the time. Sometimes he said, "D'ya know what I'm sayin' to ya?"

All in all, he did a good job of explaining why his wood costs three times as much as the customary $1,769.00 per square inch. But at the end of the day, we just weren't persuaded. I'm sure ya know what I mean.

D'ya?

Old world discomfort

Today we are pleased to present a short Guide to Reproduction Sofas, inspired by the Princess and Hero's ongoing search for the perfect sofa for their period family room, which at this point in the renovation process more resembles a period barn, but without a floor.

Why is such a guide needed? If you are on a quest for a new, yet old-looking sofa, you will no doubt encounter confusing product descriptions that may lead you to believe you are getting an old look with modern comfort. Ha ha! That's what we thought, too. Here is what these terms really mean:

generous proportions = don't eat too much dessert

restful seating = if you are unconscious

no overstuffing = like the feel of sitting on springs?

superb old look = and superb old feel

very straight back = prepare to be catapulted out of the seat

more primitive leg = may hold you up, may not

And here is our rating of comfort levels:

quaint = uncomfortable

authentic = mighty uncomfortable

very, very primitive = mighty, mighty uncomfortable

"hired hand's couch" = a wood floor would be more comfortable

visually stunning = no one wants to sit in it

We hope this short guide to reproduction furniture is beneficial. As the Princess and Hero continue their search for a sofa, stay tuned to find out whether they go for the quaint or visually stunning.

What would the insects do?

The holiday weekend is upon us, with its promise of time with family and friends, barbecues, perhaps a last chance to go to the beach, a trek through lumber yards.

That last option is how our weekend is shaping up, anyway.

In the midst of home renovations, our contractor informs us that the wood floor we were planning to paint must be torn up and replaced. He tells this to two people who cannot make decisions, who have lived with beat-up wood stairs for four years because they cannot agree on paint colors. Now these two people are expected, in a matter of a few days, to research, decide upon, and procure several hundred square feet of finished, antique reclaimed flooring.

Finding an entire new house would not be as difficult. In fact, it would probably be easier.

With a busy schedule, Joe sent me out to visit Flooring Warehouse #1 by myself. The man in charge, a very pleasant personage with the unfortunate name of Cletus, spent a great deal of time trying to explain complicated wood flooring concepts to me, such as "maple," "oak," "pine," "walnut," "expensive," etc.

Finally, after the store's closing hour had come and gone, he suggested I take home a couple of samples, and after a painful process of elimination, I chose two. One for Joe, and one for me. His was polished, very attractive maple. Mine was old barn wood on which, if one squinted hard enough, could be seen the imprint of cows' hooves.

The man very eagerly carried them out to my car, it now being way past closing time, and assured me that we could keep them for a few days.

A few days. It had taken an hour to decide which samples to take home, and he thinks we can make a decision on them, a decision that will impact an entire lifetime, in a few days?

But Joe actually made that decision very easy for us.

"You brought walnut?" he said.

"I thought you liked walnut," I said.

"Sure I like walnut. It's like the most gorgeous wood there is. But how much is it?"

"Uh, we sort of skipped that part," I said.

"What about the other sample?"

"Uh, we skipped that part too."

Joe sighed and touched the walnut sample reverently. "If I were an insect," he said decisively, "I'd eat only walnut."

It looks like the insects will have to be disappointed. It's possible they might like barn wood, but they shouldn't get excited just yet. We have about 400 more warehouses to go.

Back to school, or not? That is the question

It's back-to-school time! But if you are a student in our county, you really don't have much to worry about in terms of attending school. After all, school was barely back in session this year before letting students out two hours early for heat. This prompted parents to scramble for child care and mutter, "When I was a student, we didn't get any 'heat days.' We went to school in all kinds of weather. Heat! Cold! Hurricanes! Volcanoes! Apocalypses!"

This is the same school system that, along with most other schools in the state, had a record number of snow days last winter. Kids made up some days, and then schools were granted clemency from the remaining ones, as the state figured that otherwise students would not get out of school for the year until they were well into their 60s. And teachers would be well into Guinness-record ages, although this would seem perfectly normal to students, who already think their teachers were around to witness creation firsthand.

But I am sure that the school year will settle down into a serious routine, as befits an atmosphere for learning, as soon as the heat lets up, hurricanes stop being forecast, falling leaves are cleared away from sidewalks, Halloween is finally over, Christmas parties end, snow stops clogging our roads, etc. And then it will be summer again!

We apologize for today's brief blog post. The Princess and Hero are in the midst of further home renovations, and are feverishly researching wood floors that are old and neat and have character but are not too icky.

The search for a perfect Sally

Warning: Today's topic features a shopping experience that is unique to the female gender. It focuses in particular on a store whose merchandise is 100% female, yet which attracts a significant number of male customers who lose temporary yet complete control over the ability to keep their eyes in their head and the drool in their mouth.

I have had occasion to visit a store many of you are familiar with, ____'s Secret, so named because it is virtually impossible to tell, from a casual glance, what the store sells. You might easily mistake it for, say, a store selling auto parts, or computer cable organizers. I am sure the store's salespeople are tired of telling misguided customers, "No, I'm sorry, we do not carry life jackets for dogs. I can see how you might have been confused, though."

This store sells a number of products we shall call "Sally." Sally is intended for the upper portion of a woman's body, and although many other stores also carry Sallies, with this store's Sallies, you are not just getting an item of clothing. You are gaining an image. You are getting confidence. Possibly you are also spending your entire savings, but this is of little consequence.

The salesladies are all well acquainted with the store's many lines of Sallies. And so to help you find the perfect Sally and build your confident image, they ask questions that no one else asks you.

"What would you like your Sally to do for you?" is one of these questions.

Experience has taught me to be quite practical when shopping for Sallies. I do not have high expectations. So when I am asked what I would like Sally to do for me, I have a ready answer.

I would like it to fit, I say.

The woman who asks me this question looks slightly disdainful at my answer, as if she is not certain the store can meet this extravagant request. She contemplates sending me to Sears, if all I want is a Sally that fits. A Secret's Sally does not just fit. She tries again.

Am I looking for support? she asks. Do I want a Sally that multitasks?

Difficult as it is, I do not follow up on the offer of a multitasking Sally.

I just want one that fits, I insist.

And then a look of defeat starts to arise in the saleswoman's face, because the one thing the store does not carry is a Sally that comes in sizes closer to womens' shoe sizes than typical Sally sizes.

I know this. She knows this. _____'s Secret is based on the polite denial of the existence of petite body parts. But I have come here in the vague hope that somewhere, lurking in the back room perhaps, there might be a petite Sally.

I may as well have asked for car parts.

The saleswoman brightens as she thinks of another question: "Have we been measured today?"

I am not sure who "we" are, but whoever we are, we will never fit into a Sally larger than what we have worn for the past 20-some years. So we politely decline the offer of measurement.

Eventually, though, the woman does find a Sally for us. Me. It does not multitask, but it fits, and I, along with thousands of other women, can begin my journey to a confidence-building image.

And if that fails, I can always shop for car parts. Or doggy life jackets.

Have your game and eat it, too

I believe that our Creator puts people on earth at a time when they can do the most good. George Washington for the founding of our country, for instance, or Abe Lincoln for bringing it back together. For my part, He knew that if I had been born in an earlier era, my entire family would die of hunger, due to my aversion to handling in an intimate manner any wild game, or anything that looked like it did when it was alive.

I imagine dinnertime at our pioneer house:

Joe: Woman, I hath brought to thee a handsome and generous squirrel. Now cook thou it for my supper, for I am famished from hunting.

Me: These hands wilt not touch that, Husband. Where beith the canned tuna I hath asked of thee?

Of course, Joe would never have brought me a handsome and generous squirrel, and neither of us would have wanted to get dirty pulling up roots on which to survive, either.

But according to a classic cookbook Joe dug out of our library the other day, I could, if so inclined, have these types of meals at my modern table. The author is most eager to impart her extensive knowledge of preparing such dishes as tongue in aspic, lamb fries, pigs' knuckles and sauerkraut, casseroled rabbit and sausage, rabbit a la mode or jugged hare, opossum, porcupine, raccoon, muskrat, woodchuck, and armadillo.

No detail is spared in her explanation of how to prepare these for eating. There, right on p. 515, is an extremely graphic depiction of a squirrel being relieved of its outer covering. The reader is advised to do so while wearing gloves, to "avoid possible tularemia infection." In addition to gloves, the person in the illustrations is wearing heavy boots, which apparently aid in the divesting of the squirrel's covering. We are also cautioned to thoroughly cook any wild meat, as these animals may be "harboring trichinosis."

But there is no reason to let the possibility of debilitating disease stop us from enjoying such delicacies, as long as we follow some simple guidelines and have a very strong stomach.

We are advised to refrigerate brains, for they are "very perishable." This might explain a lot about brains in general.

If we wish to prepare opossum, it is best to trap it and "feed it on milk and cereals 10 days before killing." The 10 days will give you enough time to think up a good reason for explaining the opossum's presence on your property to your homeowners' association.

If it is large game one is after, we are reminded that shooting it in "an unsuspecting moment" will result in more tender meat that will deteriorate less quickly than if one has involved the animal in a chase.

Yet with all the care one must take, the author insists that "joy can prevail." And that if one is willing to apply herself and "gird up your loins for the fray" -- this was mentioned in particular connection with stuffing a boar's head for Christmas dinner -- the reader can expect a "hero's reward in gratitude from your assembled guests."

Or a wish on their part that you had been born in a different era from them.

All your beetle questions answered

We have recently become experts on beetles that bore through trees, on account of the fact that we have one in our maple tree -- without our permission, we might add. Today we answer any questions you may have about these beetles, which are very destructive and -- worse -- very ugly.

Our vast beetle knowledge comes from our own research (.05%), from discussions with an actual state tree expert (.03%), and from our overactive imagination (99.92%).

Owner of Dying Tree: We have discovered a pile of wood shavings next to our maple tree. This is not a good thing, is it?

Tree Expert: Have you recently taken up wood carving?

Owner: Um, no.

P.S. Please do not give my husband any ideas for additional wood projects.

Expert: Sorry. Well, you probably have a type of boring beetle. It is chewing up the inside of your tree and spitting out the shavings.

Owner: Ewww.

Expert: It is important to know what type of beetle it is. If it is invasive, it could spread to other nearby trees. You will need to have the tree cut down, the soil treated, and your house and all your possessions burned and buried in the desert.

Owner: Yikes. Well, how do we figure out what kind of beetle we have?

Expert: You will need to capture it and send it in for identification.

Owner: I send it to you?

Expert: Heavens, no! Why would we want it? Send it to some other tree expert.

Owner: So, I capture it.

Expert: Yes.

Owner: Uh huh, right.

Expert: Seriously.

Owner: Seriously?

Expert: Seriously.

Owner: How do we get the beetle to come out? And just so you know, we are not sticking our hand in that hole.

Expert: There are several ways to encourage the beetle to come out. You could, for instance, hurl insults at it.

Owner: Like what?

Expert: We can think of several:

--"Hey, pal, you call yourself a longhorn beetle? I've seen nose hairs longer than that!"

--"My grandmother can chew more wood than you!"

Owner: Okaaaay, and what do we do when it comes out?

Expert: Our personal advice would be to run. Or, capture it with some sort of container.

Owner: Like what?

Expert: Well, we would recommend something NOT made of wood.

Owner: That brings up another question. If the tree is cut down, should we keep the stump or have it ground up?

Expert: It is usually advisable to grind the stump, unless you need extra outdoor table space. See Martha Stewart Living, Issue XXIVXXII for ideas.

Owner: We have had a tree removal company give us an estimate for cutting the tree down. Should we be concerned that they believe our maple is a crabapple tree?

Expert: This could indicate a potential problem. My advice is to bag up the tree removal guy and send him in for inspection.

Owner: Let me guess. I don't send him to you.

Expert: Congratulations! You're becoming an expert, too.