My parents to the rescue!

When it rains, it pours. And right about the time I moved in to my lovely new home, a gigantic project landed on my desk at work. There was a brief face-off between the work project and home projects, but when the dust had settled, the work project emerged as the winner of all my time and energy. If I could squeeze in a spare hour, I spent it practicing my flute since I'd agreed to play for a friend's wedding and I didn't want to be the one that ruined her big day with sloppy musicianship. To further complicate things, I rubbed elbows (and ankles and calves) with the likes of Poison Ivy and paid for it...big time! The lower part of my right and left legs and my right forearm were engulfed in red, wrinkly, itchy blotches that refused to go away for two weeks. My favorite remedy for the itch -- scalding it with hot water. Mmm...hurts so good! Finally at the constant urging of coworkers, my parents, Chad, friends and anyone else who happened to catch a glimpse of my PI, I broke down, and visited the doctor who promptly prescribed a steroid pill. Within just a few days, I began to heal. A month later I'm still blotchy, but it isn't fire red anymore and no longer itches.

Poison Ivy

Since I was preoccupied with everything else in my life, my house continued not to be a home. Boxes were still planted squarely in the center of the dining room, my counter tops were littered with junk mail offers to consolidate my mortgage and my clothes were still in their suitcases. Just when all seemed hopeless, my mother swooped in and saved the day by offering me her homemaking services for an entire week! In just an hour at my place, she made more progress than I'd made in the entire time I'd been living there. While I'd been plagued by indecision and wouldn't put things away because I couldn't decide where their permanent home should be, my mom just starting putting things wherever they would fit. Any open closet or cupboard space was fair game. Her strategy - get things out of boxes and just put them somewhere. I could always reorganize later.

By the time her stay was done, my house (inside and out) had been transformed. Her only complaint was that she felt like a neglected spouse since I wasn't there very much. But that was precisely why I needed her help. Thanks, Mom!

My mom, fluffing a pillow.

Just two weeks after my mom's prolonged stay, we had a whirlwind Saturday filled with family, food and home improvement projects. I liken it to barn raising party. Many of the who's who in my family were there to help me whip my house into shape, Bob D. style, meaning get stuff done. Now.

My brother-in-law sprayed my lawn to eradicate pesky creeping charlie and other obnoxious weeds. My brother, sister and mother helped me get my feast of pulled pork sandwiches, green bean casserole, cheese and crackers, apples and dip, and other yummy foods ready and then helped in the yard. My uncle and his kids came by with a ladder so my dad could complete the one project he'd had his eye on ever since I moved in, tree-trimming. Whether he had a personal vendetta against the trees or had some other motivation, my dad just would not settle with clipping a few dead branches here and there. He set about attacking entire limbs, and with gusto. He hadn't brought his chainsaw, but he wasn't about to let that little oversight get him down. When he couldn't get one particular tree limb down with just a bow saw, he hauled his skill saw up to his perch and cut the branch that way. Dangerous? Yes. Successful? Yes, indeed.

My dad and his tree limb, just moments before the skill saw was called to duty.

My dad with his kill. Thank you, skill saw!

With tree limbs felled and my house in order, I now have time for...more home improvement projects! There's a bathtub to recaulk, wallpaper to remove, floors to refinish, curtains to hang and the list goes on. I'll get to these just as soon as I find out when my parents are free. :)