Button Crisis Averted

Hallo. Guess what? My blog has born fruit. Button fruit. My button problem is history. That was easy. Listen to what my sister emails after reading the blog:

please don't get rid of your buttons. Buttons are so charming and you should have them fill up a cool glass jar. very vintage-retro. send them my way if you don't want a jar of buttons.

So, if this isn't the perfect solution to buttons in excess, I'd like to know what is. I will give them to my sister for Christmas, in a darling glass jar, just the way she likes them. They will be her pride and joy. PLUS, if I ever need a button, she can mail me one. My sister's gain is the loss of button collectors everywhere. Sorry about that, but it's the way the button bounces. (Thought I should go for a little corn tonight.) To think I could have underestimated the pizazz of a box of buttons like that. To think they were almost given away so recklessly. I have zero imagination. But now they are rescued, just in the nick of time. Precious little buttons.

Okay, so the roofers are something else. I NEVER saw ANYONE work so hard IN ALL MY LIFE. WOW. After Day One, I am UTTERLY exhausted, more than ever, which we didn't think possible. All day, at any second, I expected a roofer to drop in on my head, the noise was so ferocious. But at least they didn't show up until 9:00 AM, instead of the promised and dreaded 7:30 Am. I am MOST curious to see what the finished product will look like. And you know how one thing leads to another in house projects? Now the eaves should be sanded and painted, they're so close to the gorgeous new roof and all. Then, since building and home improvements have taken a beating in this economy and workers are eager for work, the roofer wants to take out our gangplank of a walkway and knock out the wall that encloses a little patio in front of the house. Well, I gave him the idea first and he jumped on it. He loves and adores demolition. Of course, then we would have to replace the walk with something safer and prettier. Half of our driveway, where we park the cars, isn't cemented in, either. While he's at everything, he should pressure wash the house because it is filthy and is getting filthier with shingle dust. Oh, and let's not forget the sheetrock repairs in the ceilings, once the roof is tight. You can bet your bottom dollar that the second we complete all these beautifications, we'll have to sell the house. But at least it will have some curb appeal. Of course, the yard needs a makeover, and I've always wanted our staircase to be redone. The man from whom we bought this house, he was a do-it-yourselfer and had temper fits in some of his doings, you can tell. One Coat Charlie and all the rest. Well, I suppose any house has endless upkeep and wish list. That's what Mike tells me, anyway. I don't really buy it. I want a sweet little cottage with good bones, wood floors and quality windows. Something MANAGEABLE. Something we can mostly keep up ourselves. Yeah, that's my ambition.

Okay, MUST cut this short, I'm seeing little white and blue sparks in my eyes. Crazy week.

Hoping the roofers arrive at noon,
KEM