MEREDITH Mainte-NANCE FRYE

If I had it to do all over again, I think I would have quit my job when Justin left and devoted myself completely to a blog about domestic duties while a husband is away at war.

I suppose this could be my theme for entries over the next 7 weeks. I can write about the trials and tribulations of a love-scorned housewife whose husband has gone to war and left her with the never-ending responsibilities of a house in need of maintenance.... Not really. We live in a house that was brand new when we bought it and we live in a neighborhood with a fantastic HOA, so we're not in dire need of really anything (and by the way, Justin would never do that to me). But a girl has to have her projects.

I love Lowe's. I LOVE Lowe's. I mean I really do. I could walk around there for hours thinking of things I could do to improve the function, and even aesthetics, of my house. So last Friday (New Year's Day) that's what I did.

I did go there on a mission. To purchase the touch-up paint colors with which my house is already adorned: All from the Eddie Bauer Craftsman Bungalow collection, because that's the style of the house in which we live. Well, actually, the secret is out that it was built in 2006, so it's not TECHNICALLY from that era, but it's made to look that way. I guess you could call it a "Fungalow" since according to my friend Jessica and me, putting an "F" on the front of anything thereby desribes it as it faux. But I digress.

I also digressed at Lowe's. Finding a perfectly good use for things that I otherwise never knew I needed... And then there was the tile aisle. And there was Michael, the tile guy. I never meant for the conversation, complete with tile-laying instructions, to last that long. I simply asked him, "Hey, about how quickly and easily could you describe the tile installation process for a backsplash? About a foot tall and seven feet wide. Kitchen. Behind a sink. Natural material." And thus, see picture below.

One 15-minute conversation, one buggy-full (in the south we call it a buggy- up here they call it a shopping cart) of supplies, and one mid-afternoon later I had a fully-tiled backsplash (sans grout, of course as it needs to set overnight). My aforementioned friend Jessica, who is a new resident of our fantastic little neighborhood, came by and said, "I go to New Year's lunch at my aunt's house and in that amount of time you tile your backsplash!?!" While this would be a compliment either which way (provided the job was done well), I have to mention this comes from the same friend who actually asked, "Why can't we just spray paint the iron bed in the bedroom?" (instead of garage)

Friday night, I was home alone and actually excited about it. I picked up the house which was a disaster and was going to remain a disaster until I was able to finish grouting the week-old backsplash and flip the breaker back on. Up to that point, dirty dishes had sat unwashed and stacked on my kitchen table. UGH! If you are thinking to yourself that I could have hand washed them, no such luck. My disposal was also turned off so the sink was a little clogged. Anyway, I grouted the tile and felt victorious. Only problem? I had gone back later in the week to replace "Marble Beige Unsanded Grout" with a lighter creamier color of "Sanded Grout." My kitchen was a complete mess and every time I moved the carton of powder grout, it burped a big cloud of dust all over the countertops and sink. Finally, hours later, I had cleaned up the mess and sat down to have a beer. I purchased it at Whole Foods for a friend who came to town and it ended up... She's pregnant! Surprise! So I was left with a really fancy version of a "tall boy" with 7 % alcohol content, in such a pretty bottle I might add. http://www.gooseisland.com/pages/matilda/25.php

An hour later, Justin was calling and I was waxing on.. and on... about my night, even throwing in a few dates in the conversation which we, under no circumstances, ever mention over the phone lines. Finally, he asked, "Are you drunk?" I wasn't really, but I had gotten a little tipsy. The next day I wrote an apologetic email for any American security that might have been compromised. He told me later, "I will only worry if you are drinking alone and crying. If you are drinking alone and acting that funny again, I don't care." Apparently he and the guys had a good laugh over my poor judgment.

Saturday I spent the day with Brigitte http://www.brigittenguyen.com/. She's headed to the Vancouver Winter Olympics in February to compete in Bobsledding. Just kidding. She'll be cooking for the athletes. She's a chef who has been on FoodTV and will be competing again in the Food Network Recipe Showdown, airing in March. I love her. Top five favorite people- she's one of them. Anyway, we went to An Antique Affair, the show that opens once a month on Manchester Avenue. I found nothing of any value to me, but stumbled upon a 48-ft. square oak table from 1910, in pristine condition, and boasting SIX leaves! I sent Jessica (yet again, part of this blog) a photo of this kitchen table she so desperately needed and she wrote back "SOLD!" It's riding around in my SUV currently. She gets back tomorrow from Seattle and I'll get her to help me unload it into her kitchen.

Saturday night I spent the evening with two friends who just so happen to be two more of my top five favorite people, a couple named LaVoyed and Cheryl Hudgins (featured in this article of the Wall Street Journal: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970203674704574336414204385806.html). In case you haven't noticed, I only put my famous friends in my top five. Just kidding. But their "fame" just goes to show you how dynamic they all really are. Anyway, I counted my blessings that day because I got invitations from two people I love and admire. I spent the evening drinking LaVoyed's mudslides with them and eating homemade chili.

Sunday, it was project time again. I had been late to Cheryl and LaVoyed's the night before because I got too caught up in staining my "shoe shelves" a dark ebony, only to realize I was out of mineral spirits to clean the stain off the brush and had no choice but to do all the staining at once. Since the shelves had dried overnight, it was time to hang them. I had naturally, already purchased the necessities for this project earlier that day at Lowe's.

Now what I'm about to tell you might be offensive to some. But I have the right to talk about women, since I am one and I think I know a thing or two about being one. While I was at Lowe's buying the "shoe shelf" equipment (only a woman would go to Lowe's to build something to hold her shoes), I stumbled upon both a man and a woman standing side by side, who worked there. Now, I'm no sexist but I do have a few theories. First of all, I'm not a big fan of women sportscasters. I think it is possible that they know about as much as a man when it comes to the current state of a team's statistics, its batting average, or its past 10 seasons. But what I also know is that she didn't grow up playing tackle football in the front yard with her dad. And second of all, if she did.. that's weird.

Anyway, I have this same theory about home improvement. I mean, when given the choice of asking for help from a man or a woman, I'm sorry ladies, but I'm going to choose the man. So I did. But this certain lady really, really wanted to help me. So I followed her to the screw aisle (please, no comments- there's no other way to say it). I needed two kinds of screws for my L-brackets. One pack held the 1/2-inch long ones to go into the shelf itself. The others would go into the wall. I repeatedly told her that I was screwing them into drywall. So she handed me a pack of TWO-INCH long screws (no anchors) made for wood, stating that my dry wall was probably two inches thick. I don't know any dry wall that is two inches thick, so that should have been clue number one to stick to my theory, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

The next day, after polishing off a morning coffee I was positioned with my newly-stained shelving on the floor of my closet. I was ecstatic about the idea of displaying my new Frye boots and leopard-print platforms where I could actually see what I was choosing to wear (I'm a big believer in seeing what you own, or you will forget to wear it... is this a problem?).

First, I went to drill the unrealistically long screw into the drywall only to find that it was so far in that it wiggled and threatened to come out the other side and land in my bathroom. So I moved on to the shorter nails that I had used to screw into the wood, all the while cussing the lady at the home improvement store for her lack of knowledge. Thirty minutes in, I had all of the shelving on the wall and was just drilling the last shelving into the very bottom of the wall. Beaming with pride from my success, I must have knocked the wall with my drill and out of nowhere the six other shelves came crashing down and landed on my head. I don't really know why, but this too must have been the Lowe's lady's fault as well and so I cussed her into the first of next week.

One Starbucks-bold-with-two-raw-sugars-and-cream and yet another Lowe's run later, I was back in the closet (ah hem), hammering DRY WALL ANCHORS in, followed by a 3/4 inch screw.

Alas, the project was complete and very industrially fashion-forward, I might add. So, the moral of the story is... Think twice about a woman telling you how to stain wood, build and hang shelving and curtain rods, rework an old lamp, or tile a backsplash. As a matter of fact, disregard this entire blog entry and exit this computer screen.

I am quite the hypocrite, aren't I?