Photo Hometown Shootout - Arms and Legs

Even before I get to the B&B studio, I can hear Bagman in his loudest ZZ Top voice:

"She's got legs, she knows how to use them
She never begs, she knows how to choose them"

When I opened the door, I saw, with chagrin, he had already posted his first picture:

And I saw that Butler was already trying to do damage control:

BUTLER: "This is a G-rated blog, Baggie!  If you want to use this picture, why not use Photoshot to make it more artistic. Like this."

BAGMAN: "Yuck!"    For once, I had to agree with Bagman.

BUTLER: "Or this."

BAGMAN: "Double yuck!"   By this time I had blocked Butler's access to Photoshop.  And while I was doing it, Bagman posted his second picture:

Charleston's Annual "Stiletto Stomp"

BUTLER: "That's ridiculous!  And who on Earth produces high-heeled running shoes?"

I was frantically trying to regain control of my blog.  I didn't have long because I had a To-Do list to get to.  Why can't I blog, check stocks, paint the windowsill, and pick up toys simultaneously.  I just don't have enough arms.

But after pouring cold water on Bagman and glaring at Butler, I started my real post.  And since we are already on legs:

LEGS

There are FAT legs

And there are SKINNY legs

There are LONG legs

And there are TINY legs

At that moment, I lost my train of thought because Karen needed me to help move some furniture.  I really really need more arms. And now I can't remember what was supposed to come next.  Oh yes:

Legs are for dancing

Legs are for running through sprinklers

But I need to stop and say that in the past, I really loved my legs and we got along well together. 

We ran together

We broke things together

Now my legs don't want to get out of bed and they've joined forces with my back to prohibit me from touching my toes.  Which makes putting on shoes a chore. 

Oops!  My blog production is stopped once again to go walk the dog.  I need more arms!

And legs...

You can't have too many legs

BUTLER: "Careful, Mark.  You've already posted a gazillion pictures and exceeded the average attention span of anyone with a mouse in their hand.  And you haven't even started on 'arms' yet."

"That's okay, Butler," I answer.  "I not only have too few arms but I have very few pictures of arms as well."

BAGMAN:  "I knew it!!  You're a leg man!"

But I did also want to pay homage to one of my favorite poets.

"Then I was deep within the woods
When, suddenly, I spied them.
I saw a pair of pale green pants
With nobody inside them!

I wasn't scared. But, yet, I stopped
What could those pants be there for?
What could a pair of pants at night
Be standing in the air for?

And then they moved? Those empty pants!
They kind of started jumping.
And then my heart, I must admit,
It kind of started thumping.

So I got out. I got out fast
As fast as I could go, sir.
I wasn't scared. But pants like that
I did not care for. No, sir."

              Dr. Seuss

LEGS

BUTLER:  "Thank goodness!  It's really time to wrap this one up."

Arms are for supporting legs

Arms are for expressing protest

Arms are for expressing beauty

And, most of all --

Arms are for holding the ones we love

BUTLER:  "Are you finally done yet?" 

BAGMAN: "I still like the first one I posted.  It went downhill from there."

BUTLER:  "And don't you have a long To-Do list to get to?"

Yes, sadly it is time to leave the world of blog and head back into the world of chores.  I really wish I had more arms...

Having only nine arms is not enough

Wallpaper

I hate wallpaper.

I refuse to hang wallpaper and would rather be hanged myself.  A long time ago, I attempted it - in order to make progress with a woman I was pursuing.  I covered her walls with wrinkles and bumps and air pockets and she never talked to me again. 

So I was trying to slip backwards out of the kitchen when Karen suggested we remove the wallpaper in the kitchen. 

I conceded that it was ugly.  Several potential buyers of our house have come through and commented through the realtors that one of the things they did not like was the wallpaper.  But I'd happily drop the price so they could get it changed. 

"But we bought the house with that ugly wallpaper," I said.

"No," Karen reminded me.  "We had to pay someone to hang it after we moved in because you refused to do it."

I started to tell her about my earlier experience but caught myself in time.  I've learned enough not to bring up other women even if it was 25 years before I even met her.  Instead, I said, "You mean that we actually picked that eye-straining monstrosity?"

"Why don't you see if you can get it down.  It might go easy and just peel off."

So the next day, with blind faith that it would just come off the wall in one smooth piece, I moved the furniture out of the way, took a corner and pulled on a corner.  I pulled off a piece that needed a magnifying glass to see.   I began muttering and headed to Lowes for scrapers, sponges, remover solution...

Lowes (and Home Depot) are always filled primarily with men.  I am convinced that each and every one of them is married.

Back in the kitchen, I began muttering more frequently.  After endless hours of work...

...I had almost finished the first of 4 sheets. 

At first, it seemed to go easier on the equally ugly decorative border at the top of the wall until I realized that the border was on top of the wallpaper so it was actually going to be twice as hard.

By now I was muttering nonstop.   I was talking to the wallpaper, trying to make deals.  Then I was threatening the wallpaper. Then I was making comments about the wallpaper's mama.

The various "How to remove wallpaper" sites on the Internet all made it seem like a fool could do it.  Although I quickly concluded that only a fool would attempt it in the first place.  The sites also politely suggested patience and being careful with the scraper so you don't damage the wall. 

After days of work, I no longer cared.  By then I was muttering about the "How to remove wallpaper" sites' mamas. 

So when the paper was finally off, I stepped back, looked up and saw that I had mutilated the wall. 

This is just one small section - gouges were everywhere

The fact that by then I felt that the $#&$ing wall deserved everything it got, did not change the fact that I would have to repair it.  Sort of like how we spend billions of dollars shooting up some country we go to war with only to spend billions more to help repair the infrastructure afterwards.

Back to Lowes for painter's putty, putty knives, spackle, etc.   I'm not muttering anymore.  I've grown to hoarse to mutter.

But I have to admit the result does seem to make a difference.

By the time we finish preparing the house to sell, we won't want to move out of it.