Nom de Plume

I was going to post a bunch of demo-in-progress kitchen pictures, but really … why bother? This is what it looks like now:

The plans are:

1) All new appliances, for one.
2) A really funky farmhouse sink that we got at Re-store. It’s being reporcelained as we blog and is going approximately where the existing sink is–though at 51 inches will take up a considerably larger amount of space.
3) You see that taller window at the end? That’s going away, and the fridge is going there. But wait, you say! Getting rid of windows? Actually, we’re adding a bank of four windows over the sink instead.
4) The stove is staying where it is, but will be flanked by cabinets.
5) Steve’s brother is coming out next week to do some of the above, and will also tear out and replace the ceiling.

There are lots more ideas floating around Chez Smunshi, but we’re not terribly organized about the process. Some neighbors are also redoing their kitchen and we goggled at their beautifully rendered plans. Ours consist of some chicken scratch on graph paper.

This was the kitchen before we moved in.

To tell the truth, we added a lot more color to the room–but it probably looks its best here. The tenants who lived here were apparently anal (to put it politely), and were a LOT cleaner than we are. We painted the walls and put down slate floor. Also added wainscot around the room.

And the problem is that you can see how crooked everything is–and if it’s not crooked, it’s just crap. when everything was white, it at least looked, well, clean. We’ve been living with this for two years now.

Until two weeks ago, at which point Mr. Demo decided it was “time to commit to redoing the kitchen.” I can’t complain about Steve having problems with commitment; he dragged out a chainsaw and sawed off half the counter.

Keep posted, and I’ll show you what the kitchen is looking like today.

I’m one of those people who is a lot less knowledgeable about computers than I like to think I am. In other words, I am A-OK dinking around with things I have no business dinking around with. For instance, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cleaned up my registry to the point of having to reinstall the OS. But hey, it’s all an adventure, right?

And so, when it came to buying a new laptop this time around, I decided to go with an ODMed machine. Don’t know what an ODM machine is? Here, read this. I should say that my last laptop was great–the HP Compaq NC6000. It was solid and had fantastic battery life. (And my HP XE2 from 1999 is still alive and kicking; even though it only runs Windows 98, Steve uses it regularly, though he will now upgrade to my new old laptop.)

After months of obsessive research, I finally decided to go with the Compal HGL30, which I bought from discountlaptops.com. The specs are:

14.1″ WXGA (1280 x 800) Glare TFT Glossy Display
Core 2 DUO 2.16 GHz Processor (Merom/ T7400 / 4 MB L2 Cache / 677 FSB)
Upgrade to Artic Silver 5 (AS5) Thermal Cooling CPU Compund Paste
nVidia GeForce GO 7600 (G73M) 256MB VRAM
2048 MB DDR2 (667 MHz) Corsair Memory (1 GB x 2)
80 GB Hard Drive (7200 RPM) – SATA (Hitachi)
8X DVD / 24X CD-RW Combo Drive w/ Software
Internal 56 kbps Modem (V.92)
Internal 10/100/1000 Ethernet LAN
Internal IntelPRO 3945ABG Wireless Ethernet/Lan (802.11 a+b+g)
Smart Lithium Ion Battery (9 cell / 10.8V x 7200mAh)
3 in 1 card reader for SD/MS/MMC
S-Video, VGA, 3 USB 2.0 Ports

And then of course, I had to install Windows Vista Ultimate and Office Ultimate. So my little mini-review of the machine itself is intertwined with Vista experiences. And in no particular order, they are:

1) I like the laptop. The screen is amazing. I had this open side by side with my old NC6000 as I was transferring data, and my faithful old laptop just faded into obsolescence before my very eyes.

2) The CTRL and FN keys are reversed; this is messing me up, though I suppose I’ll get used to it.

3) Even with the Artic silver upgrade, the handwrests get pretty warm. But the fan works so I don’t think this is much of an issue in terms of function. But I don’t particularly like it.

4) I’m not sold on the keypad, which seems solid, but a little springy for my taste.

5) This shipped with a BIOS that was 6 versions old–and of course running Vista 64-bit puts a kink in things. The Compal web site has the most current versions–though it’s hard to figure out which it is–and THEN the zip files are password protected. HMMPH. I got mine from Bizcom instead.

6) Am I an idiot? (Don’t answer that.) I didn’t even realize this was 64-bit. This is a Vista issue, but can I tell you? There is NO SOFTWARE (non-MS) that works with this. I am trying to find a podcast receiver program, and NONE OF THEM WORKS!! This is a problem. Also, the IKEA kitchen planner software doesn’t work either, which is another issue, but deserves its own post as it concerns Mr. Demo wielding a sledgehammer stop a sawed off kitchen counter.

7) No microphone. My NC6000 had one built in, and I used it often enough for interviews. So I have to buy one. Not a big deal–they’re ten bucks–but it’s yet more stuff to lose/misplace/not be able to find it when I need. I would happily trade in the webcam for a microphone.

Media Office, which does use the webcam, seems supremely useless to me, as are the buttons on the top righthand corner dedicated to it. And there’s no external volume button. Again, not a big thing, just a minor inconvenience.

That’s about it for now, but I’ve only been running this for three days. I’m sure there will be aand lots more. All in all, though, I am pleased. (Knock on wood.) Especially considering that I’ve spec’ed out similar machines from HP and Dell, which would have cost a minimum of a grand more.

Update***
The speakers STINK.

Steve called this morning to see if his mother had made it off okay.

Actually, let’s rephrase that. He ostensibly called to see if his mother had left, but really just wanted to inform me that we are ripping out the kitchen cabinets tonight.

“All of them?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Will we have anything in there? I mean, will we even be able to make coffee?”

“Oh,” he said offhandedly. “We’ll make coffee in the bathroom.

This is my life, people.

I’m leaving for the airport in half an hour.

Steve just called me into the kitchen.

“Are you loining your girdle? I’m going to rip out all the cabinets in here while you’re gone.”

In the beginning of Carry Me Down, John Egan and his parents are sitting in a warm kitchen. It is the middle of winter, and they are reading. It’s hard to imagine a cozier, more comforting scene. But within a single page, there’s an unsettling sense of disquiet; everything just seems off. We learn, for instance, that John and his mother have an odd relationship, that John and his father have a distant one. We learn that John is almost freakishly tall. The family lives with the grandmother. John is obsessed with the Guinness Book of World Records, and he is convinced that he has a talent–the ability to see when people are lying–that will get him into it. This is one of those novels where what isn’t said is more important than what is, and when it comes right down to it, everyone is lying. Even John. Gorgeously written and quietly sinister.

Two weeks ago
It’s about two in the afternoon. Steve calls. “For my company Christmas party, do you want steak or salmon?”

“When is it?”

“I’m not sure. Which do you want?”

“I don’t care,” I say, running through my schedule in head. “Can you forward me the e-mail?”

“We’ll get one of each then.”

“Forward me the e-mail.”

“Okay.”

Later that night
We’re sitting in the hot tub. All of a sudden, Steve says, “For the company christmas party? I put you down for the salmon. I’ll get the steak.”

“Okay. When is it?”

“Oh, like the week before Christmas.”

“Can you find out and tell me?”

“Sure.”

“Just forward me the e-mail.”

“Okay.”

A week ago
It strikes me that I might have to go get a dress or something for his party. Which reminds me, I still have no idea when the party is. I call him and ask when it is.

“It’s the 14th. That night.”

I pull open that darn ubiquitous thing — my Outlook calendar. “That’s a Thursday,” I say.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Okay, I’ll mark it.” We hang up. I note it on my Outlook calendar, and also on the wall calendar in the kitchen.

Three days ago
Laura is here visiting from Bellingham. I have just spent $400 dollars on vintage chairs. The lines are great, and match the couch perfectly. Alas, the blue is far brighter than I thought. I am irritated. (Granted, a normal state of being.) Steve says, “Oh, by the way, it’s formal. I have to wear a suit. It’s at some place called the Woodmark Hotel.”

Great, I think. I need to go shopping. Both last week and this week have been crazy busy with work. But it’s Thursday, so I have time. Maybe Wednesday night. I have a meeting on the east side at three. That should work. I can do the shopping over there and miss traffic. Plans unfurl in my head.

But it’s Steve, so I doublecheck anyway. “It’s next Thursday, right?”

“Yep. At 6.”

I am pleased. I have managed to pin Steve down. He has given me all the information I need. Thursday. 6. Kirkland. Formal. YAY! Or as YAY as a company Christmas party can be.

One hour ago
The phone rings. It’s Steve. “My party? I made a mistake. It’s Wednesday, not Thursday.”

I won’t be able to make it home in time, so am going to have to change over there in some bathroom on the Microsoft campus. Then, squander an hour and a half.

“I am going to kill you,” I say.

“But I’m so cute and adorable!”

Steve is being quite industrious in the kitchen today.

Awwww, look at that cornbread.

So what’s my literary personality?

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This is what Geoff asked when he walked into the kitchen yesterday evening. It was the 1/2 oz of amber I melted into my oils. When I was at Zenith, I couldn’t resist picking up a packet of the stuff. Then, I couldn’t resist the idea of amber-scented soap. Would I add the powdered stuff at trace? Hmm … I googled it, and found a single reference to someone melting it into the oils. And granted, it’s not natural because it’s extracted with petroleum or some such stuff, but hey, I never said I was completely organic.

So, aside from the amber:

201 g lye
21 oz oo
16 oz coil
14 oz palm (YAY!)
19 oz water

I decided to add essential oils too: a combo of 10 tsp (yes, ten, the scents are disappearing!)

2 cedarwood
2 vetiver
2 ylang ylang
3 ginger
1 palmarosa

Unmolded and cut this evening. Very, very oily. Freaked out a little because Cavitch says not to use soap that has oil on top and very hard soap. The soap was pretty soft too, though, which makes me think that the lye discount — which started at 10% — was really very high with the amber and eo additions.

But I think this is the piece de resistance thus far. There is only the slightest tang of ginger and vetiver — no trace of the others — but the amber shines through it all. The overall smell is muted, but still rich and almost humus-y. I hope it doesn’t fade any more. If I have time tomorrow, I may just run back up to Zenith and get some orris root.

*** Update.
This has darkened to a deep rich brown, and is WONDERFUL. I am renaming it 60s Porn Star. The copy? “Pre-silicone, bush-friendly, and love-handle loving — seems like it was a lot easier to feel good about yourself back then. Go ahead, jiggle around in the shower with 60s Porn Star’s rich amber redolence and ginger zip. This is definitely one bar that makes you want to get naked — and stay that way for days on end. And if you want to get in front of a camera? Well, that’s your business.”