Scene of the Crime

For right now, I’m keeping my “Choose My Own Adventure” poll open. Thanks to those of you who voted so far, and for those of you who’ve stopped by but haven’t, why the f*** not??! Please go vote immediately. This is my future we’re talking about. (Dramatic, much?)

We remodeled our guest bathroom about 2 years ago.

Here’s what it looked like when we moved in (unfortunately I didn’t have a wide-angle lens at the time – or for that matter a DSLR camera – just my little point-and-shoot, so you only get snippets):

The above picture was taken while standing in the bathroom doorway facing slightly left. The doorway you see ahead/to the right leads into the laundry room with the lovely forest-green aluminum blinds. (By the way, if you’re ever showing your home for sale, please do not leave the toilet seat up. It’s unseemly.)

This is looking straight into the bathroom and through to the laundry room. You can kind-of, sort-of see the fugly, almond-colored bathtub with brass shower doors to the right.

Here’s a better look at that bathtub/shower combo:

We removed the confining shower doors almost immediately after moving in (that tub is tiny), but we were left with an extremely unpleasant shower door residue/fungus/mold-like substance, the likes of which I will share throughout the progression of this remodel.

And we can’t forget the huge-bulb brass light fixture with the charming paisley maroon wallpaper:

The whole thing took us maybe 6 months to complete, and that’s NOT if you count the attached laundry room. Which is just about done.

Oh, and we still have to paint all of the trim (in the ENTIRE HOUSE!).

Ahem.

Anyway, if you compare this to our kitchen remodel, the hubs and me taking 6 months to complete a project is not a shocker. In fact, it’s almost timely.

So, did a gruesome murder happen in my bathroom? Not exactly. But, here’s what our guest bathroom looked like for probably 5 out of those 6 months:

As one friend put it, “This looks like a crime scene.”

I promise you I’m not embellishing. We seriously had guests stay at our home and shower in this bathroom while it looked like this. It looked like this for a long, long time.

I have no shame.

What can I say? We were naive, enthusiastic first-time home-buyers when we made this purchase. We were excited because only one room had wall paper (this room), and our master bathroom just had a wallpaper border. We thought we were getting off easy.

But this. room. was. hell.

In all its fury. In my version of hell, I would be removing paisley maroon wallpaper for all of eternity.

Here are the tried – and failed – methods with which we attempted to remove the wallpaper:

Dry peeling (simply using a putty knife and our fingers to pull off the stubborn paper)
Spritzing with water and then peeling
Spritzing with a vinegar/water mixture and then peeling
Spritzing with Dif Gel wallpaper stripper (two different formulas) and then peeling
Using an electric steamer (borrowed from our neighbors) to harness the power of heat and moisture and then peeling

Nothing worked. Nothing.

Finally, the hubs ended up taking an orbital sander to the bathroom walls. He quite literally sanded the whole mess off the surface. This worked, by the way.

I realize this doesn’t fall withing the traditional code of wallpaper-removal methodology, but you can’t blame us. We were at our eye-twitchingly wits-end. My fingernails were navy/maroon paisley.

You. Can’t. Blame. Us.

So no, a murder did not happen in this room (that we know of). But a double-suicide?

Almost, my friends.

Almost.

Choose My Own Adventure

Monday Poem

A Poem, inspired by my current surroundings.

My cube is cold,

My coffee’s old,

But that is life –

Or so I’m told.

Unrest, it grows.

My mind, it knows.

A windowless world –

It really blows.

How’s that for a rainy Monday?

Don’t worry, I’m working on some solutions to my boredom, which I will share as they (hopefully) come to fruition.

I’m a Model, You Know What I Mean?

For some, striking the perfect pose just comes naturally.

You want some of this?

I’m a sexy beast.

I do my little turn on the catwalk.

But others… others need a little help.

It’s not like she doesn’t try…

She’s just not that into herself.

And that’s okay, because I’m all about letting her be express herself…

…in whatever way she chooses.

Sophisticated Kate

I finally did it. Bit the bullet. Achieved a dream (other than this) that I’ve had for awhile.

I bought some art in Hawaii. Three pieces, to be exact.

And for someone as fickle as me, this is quite a big deal. See, until this point, there are 2 things that have held me back from ever buying art (other than bookstore posters during my college years and mass-produced prints from places like Kirkland’s that end up getting shoved in a corner of my closet because I can’t bring myself to hang something meaningless):

1. Money. Original paintings (since that’s mainly the type of art to which I’m referring), can be gastronomically expensive. Understandably. You’re essentially buying a piece of a person’s soul to hang over your mantel for your friends to discuss its merit over a glass of merlot. Talk about putting yourself out there…

2. Indecisiveness. I can’t decide on a meal to cook more than 3 hours in advance, let alone art that will represent my personality, mood and taste (or lack thereof) for the rest of my life. It’s too much pressure. That, and I tend to love practically everything I see. Who am I to decide which is better than the next?

But then I realized… most collections start small. I don’t have to have a huge original oil painting the size of my mattress in order to be moved. And my art doesn’t even have to be original, for that matter. And the indecisive part of me is never going to change. If my tastes/desires/moods change over the course of my life, then what I buy today will simply represent who I was at that particular moment in time. And that, my friends, is the point.

(Am I deep tonight, or what??)

Okay, two of the pieces are actually very inexpensive prints of real art, but hey. We’re not made of money.

I think I was drawn to the first for its colors.

Kellie MacQuoid Print — (Click photo for link to artist's website)

It’s surreal, almost dreamlike, very calming… with just a hint of trippy. Perfect.

I love the detail with the birds (seagulls?) in the background and the horizontal texture running across the sky and trees. I love that the flowers look like pink artichokes and the leaves of the ferns aren’t attached to the stems.

It doesn’t scream Hawaii to me (at least my experience of Hawaii), and that’s okay. In fact the artist, Kellie MacQuoid, lives in California. The palm trees… the ocean… the lizard… the inspiration is still clear. Exotic, coastal beauty. On acid.

I would LOVE to own a real one some day. Or maybe even a giclée (I use this term to try to sound art-smart, which, I assure you, I’m not), if an original is beyond my reach. It never hurts to dream, right?

The second print will completely take you inside my head.

(Ha-ha, no I’m not about to show you a photo of a blank picture frame. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re mean.)

The style seems like a dream. No details, just memory.

But really, it’s the subject itself. The surfer girl… she’s in one of the most beautiful places in the world, she’s got this big ocean in front of her, and all she has to do is jump in. She’s free to do anything she wants.

Heather Brown Print — (Click photo for link to artist's website)

I would love to be the girl in the painting. Heather Brown, the artist, seems like a phenomenal person. She lives on the island of Oahu, surfs and paints for a living, is absolutely beautiful, and is basically living the dream. I saw a few of her originals and several giclée prints in some of the Oahu galleries. I drooled. But only a little.

It looks like she signed the matte of the print, although I’m not sure if that’s just a stamp…

I want to be there again. And since I can’t (or won’t?), this print might get me close.

Because these prints were a standard size, all it took were some inexpensive frames from Target to complete the look.

I removed the mattes that came with the frames and used the ones that came with the prints:

Now all I have to do is hang ’em! Give me another year or so and I might find the perfect place (ha).

For now, they’re both in my kitchen, sitting up against our (finally) completed backsplash. I actually kind of like them in here, because I see them every day.

And finally, the real painting.

Ican’tbelieveIownarealpainting!!!

It’s an original. (Imagine me saying that with my nose stuck up in the air.)

I walked into this little gallery in the small, beach-front town of Hale’iwa on Oahu’s North Shore. Inside the owner displayed works from several artists, including her husband, the local candle maker. It was the art of Dennis McGeary, however, that caught my eye.

I was initially drawn to a a large, abstract piece, very similar to those in the top 2 rows of this page. It appeared different every time I looked at it. Once I saw a waterfall. Then an ocean. Then the wind as I fell from the plane. Then the mountains. It was continuous, and I loved it. I can’t describe it.

I realized this piece, while extremely reasonably-priced for an original oil painting, was just more than we could justify spending at this point in our lives. But then I was drawn to a much smaller piece, more decipherable (and less interpretive) in its subject, but still intriguing.

Dennis McGeary — (Click photo for link to artist's website)

An Oahu coastline. Tropical forests. Jagged mountains. But, when viewed a little differently, a serene underwater-scape. Colorful coral. Reflections off the surface.

And look! Brush strokes!!

I own something with brush strokes besides my painted window trim!

And it has a signature. A real signature.

Is it weird I’m so excited about this?

I’m sorry to get all artsy-fartsy on you tonight, but I can’t help it. I just finished a glass of red and I’m too sophisticated for words.

All of this is still made worse by the fact that I still want to move to a van on the North Shore. I’m still working to convince the hubs it would be a good idea. We can survive on some rice, our wits, and our passion for life, no? (Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have read Into the Wild during our vacation. The combination appears to have been toxic.)

But I figure first we’ll finish remodeling this place… one thing at a time, right?

One thing at a time.

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Shrimpy, Garlicy, Asparagusy Pasta. With Wine.

Hawaii was amazing.

Spectacular.

Too good beyond words.

I’ll probably share bits and pieces of the trip for awhile because my heart just doesn’t want to let it go.

But I won’t talk about it every day, because I know how exciting it is to look at other peoples’ vacation pictures. (Actually, I might be one of the few people who actually enjoys it. But I’m weird like that.)

So tonight, to celebrate being back in my own, newly-remodeled kitchen after nearly 24 hours of travel to get here, we cooked dinner for ourselves.

Since this blog is called DomesticatING Kate – not DomesticatED Kate, I’m going to share with you another recipe I found somewhere else. I can’t make these things up, people. I’m just not that good. BUT, if I find something good, I like to share it with you.

Here is the original recipe. Extra crispy. This food blogger calls herself Cookin’ Canuck, and hopefully she doesn’t mind me sharing her delicious recipe with you. Even with my inferior photography and cooking skills, this still turned out great. If you want to really impress someone with a restaurant-tasting dinner, give this one a try.

I didn’t change it much – just halved it (which still made more than enough for the hubs and me). In spite of the fact that it didn’t contain any butter or heavy cream (two major proponents of tastiness in my book), it was still absolutely delicious-o. Oh, and it only contains minuscule amounts of cheese (again, unusual for me).

Here’s what you need to make it the way I did – except remember to cut it in half if you’re cooking for less than a family of 4:

1 lb. linguini
1/2 lb. fresh asparagus (cut off the thick white parts at the base and cut into 1-inch pieces)
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, minced (I did NOT halve the garlic – according to me, you can never have too much garlic)
1 pinch crushed red chili flakes (I actually used red pepper flakes, since that’s what I had on hand)
3/4 cup dry white wine (I used an inexpensive chardonnay, since that’s what I had open from last night. To cope with the jet lag. Yes, that’s it. To cope with the jet lag.)
3/4 lb. large shrimp, peeled and deveined (I bought the pre-peeled, deveined and cooked stuff. Easier and on sale. Didn’t halve this either.)
12 sun-dried tomatoes, thinly sliced (This comes in a dry pouch or in a jar of marinade. I bought the jar.)
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1/4 cup (packed) chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

1. Start by getting some salted water boiling so you can cook your noodles.

2. while your water gets going, chop up the asparagus. The hubs was good at that. (We only used about half this pile, by the way. I didn’t realize until we got going that we should halve the recipe.) Set the asparagus aside – you won’t be seeing it again until your linguine is almost al dente.

3. If you have frozen shrimp, thaw it according to the package directions. We ran ours under water for a few minutes, then the hubs pulled off the tails.

4. Your water is hopefully boiling by now (or close to it), so go ahead and throw in your linguini. Cook according to package directions. (I set my timer for 10 minutes – my Life ADD causes me to forget about minuscule dinner details like pasta cooking, so this step is imperative for me. I also wanted to make sure I added the asparagus at the right time so I wouldn’t overcook it. No one likes mushy asparagus.)

4. Next go ahead and mince yourself up some garlic. And slice your sundried tomatoes (I didn’t drain them completely, but let them sit in some of the yummy garlic bits and capers. I think it probably added to the sauce immensely).

I realize these look a uncomfortably close to the lungs you unearthed from the frogs you dissected in high school, but I promise you they smell and taste much better. Not that I ever tasted frog lungs.

5. Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat. Throw in your garlic and pinch of dried red pepper. Cook for about a minute.

6. Pour in your white wine and simmer 1-2 minutes. (You might want to take a sip of the wine, first. You know, just to test it.)

7. Add the shrimp and stir 1-2 minutes until it’s pink and cooked. If it’s pre-cooked (like mine), just stir a minute or so until it’s heated. In retrospect, this would’ve been a bit easier to eat if I had roughly chopped the shrimp first.

8. If your pasta is about 1 minute away from al dente, throw in your asparagus. Cook for about a minute, then drain.

9. Add the sundried tomatoes, salt and pepper to your shrimp pan.

10. Pour your shrimp/asparagus/sundried tomato/wine/garlic sauce to the pasta and stir.

11. Add the parmesan cheese and parsley (the hubs chopped parsley fresh from our garden!).

12. Eat up! For how easy this was, it was surprisingly yummy (despite my yellow photography). We will definitely be making this again. Even if you think you don’t like asparagus or tomatoes – open your mind to something a little different. The hubs, for all his claim to not liking tomatoes (he still won’t eat them raw), gobbled this down.

Oh, and don’t forget to sprinkle on a bit more cheese.

Yum! Don’t let my dark and yellow photography turn you off – this stuff will impress anyone. Thanks, Cookin’ Canuck! I always knew I liked Canada.

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Free Fallin’

Can I just say… wow.

Until yesterday, I’ve never felt the urge to laugh, cry, scream, pee, and call my mom all at the same time.

And let me just say this:

I think I’m addicted.

The hubs and I decided we wanted to try at least one extreme sport on our visit to Hawaii. We already tried scuba diving on our honeymoon in St. Lucia (loved it), and I’m not in the greatest shape for mountain climbing/biking. We were inspired by a friend who’s been stationed here to try skydiving. After all, where else are we going to get better views on the way down?

So we called up Skydive Hawaii and set up our day/time. We decided on the end of the trip so that, if the worst possible thing were to happen, at least we would’ve had a week in Hawaii before we died. Ha.

There is surprisingly little preparation required before throwing yourself out of a Cessna Caravan.

We needed to sign every page of an 8 billion (okay just 8 ) page contract:

Notice the not-so-fine print:

You can’t tell from my face, but signing this contract might have been the scariest part of the entire ordeal:

IMG_7410_small — Photo By: Leah B Photography (click for link)

Then we waited our turn out on the deck. It didn’t take very long for Johnny, my soon-to-be tandem partner, to introduce himself and start getting me geared up. As you can see, it’s a bit of an intimate process. Luckily, I was too busy trying not to crap my pants from sheer nervousness to really notice. (Classy, no?)

Tandem Skydiving — Photo By: Leah B Photography (click for link)

My cousin Leah took advantage of this opportunity to take pictures of my butt (okay, maybe she was taking pictures of the bright orange DANGER sign on my back):

Hawaii Skydive — Photo By: Leah B Photography (click for link)

Meanwhile, the hubs was getting some quick instructions from Big Jim, his tandem partner:

Looks comfortable, huh?

Some jumpers were landing in the airfield right across from us – think the hubs looks excited?

Hubs and Big Jim:

Before we knew it, it was time to head out to the airfield.

My thoughts:

You mean whatever is in that little backpack is going to keep me from plummeting 10,000 feet to my death?

Why does this feel like dead woman walking?

I’m trusting you, Johnny!

And we’re getting in that?

I guess we are. And we seem happy about it.

There we go!

Can’t say the view was terrible…

Are we high enough yet?

Now is a good time to say one thing: The staff at Skydive Hawaii were phenomenal. The photographers and tandem jumpers were laid-back and experts at putting us at ease.

And Johnny, if you’re out there, THANK YOU for pushing me out of that plane.

This was the most surreal moment of my life. Please excuse my butt. Thank you.

I’d like to tell you that all kinds of profound, life-changing thoughts were going through my head at this point. But in reality, all I could manage was, “holy sh*t.”

And WTF am I doing??

But then…

…then is was pretty. damn. spectacular.

And I couldn’t help but smile.

Which might have caused me to drool (occupational hazard, I’m told).

I’ll admit I lost my cool a bit when the parachute came out (could’ve used some warning on that one, Johnny). ;)

I think the hubs had fun, too:

We got to hang out in the ‘chute for awhile… Johnny even let me steer. (Sort-of… I’m glad he didn’t actually let go of the ropes.)

It was so quiet.

So beautiful.

Amazing.

As if all that weren’t enough, two shirtless guys came running at me as we landed. Umm, does Skydive Hawaii rock, or what?

I was glad to get the hubs back on the ground with me. The guys ran at him too, but I don’t think he enjoyed it as much.

Did we really just do that???!!

Thanks, Johnny!

(Please excuse the fact that I seem to be flossing my teeth with my hair. We’re lucky my legs are even holding me up at this point.)

We even got these little certificates for completing our first jump:

Overall?

I would be lying if I said that after this experience I didn’t seriously contemplate shipping the little monsters over here, setting up house in a van on the North Shore, getting a job in an art gallery, and spending my free time getting my skydiving certification. The hubs would just have to get stationed over here. It could work.

But when it comes to these people – these amazing, thrill-seeking, life-loving people – I’m not sure I’d ever fit in.

Aside from getting in my car and driving to work every day, I don’t tend to tempt fate very often – let alone on a regular basis.

How do people do that? Take these huge risks over and over without freaking out every single time and wondering if the last thing they’ll ever see is the ground – the beautiful ground – plummeting towards their bodies at over 100 mph.?

Maybe I love life too much to take those kind of regular risks.

But it could also be argued by those who take them… maybe I don’t love it enough.

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