Larry, Darryl, and Darryl's Remodeling Company...Reeeel Cheep!

After having spent yet ANOTHER stinkin' Saturday digging myself out of a mess that another owner left for me (literally), I can't help but wonder why people do things, unless they're going to do them correctly!  It seems that the former owners of my little place (who I'm convinced was Larry, his brother Darryl, and his other brother Darryl) saw absolutely NO need to do anything properly.  Ever.

Take, for example, the "drainage" system in front of my garage.  Apparently it was installed correctly years ago, but the toll of rain and snow run-off eventually buried it.  So what did Larry and the Darryls do?  Instead of re-digging the line and clearing it, they decided to build a berm in front of the garage.  According to my neighbors, they spent a LOT of time shoveling sawdust, gravel, and dirt and building a nice little speedbump-style monument.  I can imagine their sweat-moistened foreheads gleaming in the Colorado sun as they proudly stood back, rested their flannel and plaid adorned arms on their shovels, and thought "That'll hold the water back reeeeeeel nice!"  Apparently, they failed to understand the basic laws of physics, whereby water runoff will find the path of least resistance, and simply go around the berm.  ((((((Smacking forehead)))))))

What this has meant for yours truly is that every time it's rained, or every time the snow has fallen and subsequently melted, my basement has flooded.  In an attempt to CORRECTLY fix the drainage issue, I've dug through roughly 30 feet of gravel, sand, sawdust, roughly 12-18 inches deep.  NOT easy digging.  At all.  This has caused ME to altogether too closely begin to resemble Larry, Darryl, and Darryl.

I walked by a lamp today and knocked it over.  With my damn bicep.  Or maybe it was my lats.  I dunno, I just know that somehow my arms are growing, my hair looks A LOT like theirs after my digging sessions, and I keep eyeing my chin suspiciously in case a beard hair tries to pop out.    I'm already far too self-conscious about my veiny, scrawny  "Madonna arms".  I fear if I keep having to dig, I'll morph in a female body-builder look.  Like Schwarzenegger.  (Or Stephenegger??)  Blech.    And as much as I love plaid and flannel, and the cozy mountain winter-y feel they evoke, I will now have to flush my wardrobe of any such outerwear in an attempt to stop the metamorphosis into a grizzled, buff, doofus-y mountain man.

So please, for anyone out there attempting to do a project, I implore you to do it correctly the FIRST time, and eschew the temptation to just do a LarryDarrylDarryl quick-fix.  Your future owners, who prefer to resemble the likes of Gwen Stefani, rather than Ahhhnold or Larry, Darryl, and Darryl will thank you.

Who assigned the mean cafeteria lady to MY life-buffet?

Why do I lately get the distinct impression that life is NOT letting me pick and choose those elements that I want?  I thought the best part about being a grown-up was that could eat whatever-the-heck you wanted at the life-buffet?

Feeling like maybe I've lingered just a BIT too long in line, pondering the less than ideal choices, and trying to get excited about overcooked options, trying to convince myself that that a crusty, heat-lamp induced skin over my choices is even remotely acceptable.  And in addition to the less-than-ideal choices, I also feel rushed and hurried, like I'm supposed to just take what I can from the "Mediocre Cafe", and  "Move ALONG, dearie!"

Well guess what, you crotchety old bag, I DO get to decide what I want out of life.  Yes, you may be the queen of your warmed-over domain, but I awoke today with that dawning re-realization that I don't HAVE to limit myself to just the choices at a sub-par buffet.  I do indeed get to choose.

So no more half-baked, overcooked options for me, thankyouverymuch.   The best part about being a grownup is that I get to decide which buffet I choose from, and it's time for this mountain chick to move on to a buffet with a better selection.  :)

For starters, I'd very much like a large helping of this kind of mountain kitchen:

And I believe I'd like to try some of this as well:

And and sample of 

And for dessert, I'll take two helpings of

(And if anyone wants to go ahead and just plunk The Rock into this last picture, I promise to leave a HUGE tip.)