Are you Good At Making Decisions?

Are you good at making decisions? I'm not. "Terrible" would be a nice way of describing my decision-making process. "Incredible lengthy" and "unproductive" are other terms that come to mind.

I live in fear of making the wrong decision. Doesn't matter if it revolves around buying a $10 pair of earrings or a $50,000 car, I go through the same process of "should I/shouldn't I?" with every decision. (BTW, I do NOT drive a $50,000 car--just an example!)

While Blair and I are extremely happy in our choice of cabin designer (you should see the pictures of homes she's worked on - drool, drool, drool...), I'm feeling overwhelmed. Do we want a walkout basement, a loft, a second story, or a loft and basement? What color wood, inside and out? We want a wraparound porch, covered in most areas. Yet if we do that, the covered porch serves to separate you to some degree from nature while inside the house. How will we use the space? We think we'll spend most of the time out on the porch, the point of the cabin being to escape and enjoy nature. But what if we're wrong in how we'll use it? We'd love real stonework, but the facade stone is 1/3 the cost of real stone. Is it worth it to have the real stuff or is our money better spent elsewhere? I love a nice bathroom, but it is worth it to spend money on a tile shower, or just put in a regular acrylic shower liner and move on? Will I be glad we saved the money to use elsewhere, or wishing I had sprung for a bathroom upgrade?

These are but a small sample of the questions we're grappling with. (I know... everyone should be burdened with such problems).  But my head is spinning and I'm feeling less like making decisions and more like burrowing under my covers for a week and letting it all blow past. I always swore I'd never build my own home because I knew this would be my reaction to it. I just need to breath and remember that there aren't necessarily any right/wrong decisions and everything will work out in the end.

And a little wine probably wouldn't hurt...

Today's 5k

Running may be the one thing that can make me like math.

I ran a 5k this morning hosted by the GSO Police Department to benefit the NC Special Olympics. The first and only 5k I've ever run before was on July 4th, 2006. My time then was 28:57. My time today was 26:25--well under a 9 minute mile. Whoo-hoo! Here are the numbers:

• Mile One: Completed in 8:18
• Mile Two: Time was 17:46
• Final 1.2 Miles:  Ending time of 26.25
• Eaten: 1 Gu
• Number of times I peed in the two hours before the race: 3
• Entry Fee: $25, or almost $1 per minute (for a good cause though, so that's okay...)
• Number of skinny, short little 10 year-olds who finished ahead of me: Ahem, several...

I told Blair there was a little ten-year-old boy in front of me for the first mile and a half that I just could not catch. Blair looked at me knowingly. "You didn't let him get away, did you?

I smirked. "Smoked him on the first big hill."

"That's my girl."

I left before formal results were posted, i.e., what number you finished overall, how you placed in your age group, etc. All in all though, I feel good. I usually train at just under a 10-minute mile so this was quite a bit faster for me.

Never underestimate the power of the ego to make you run faster when elementary kids are whuppin' you.

Log Cabin Designer Arrives This Weekend

I haven't said much lately, but we are still proceeding with plans to build a small (under 1500-square feet) log cabin on our Stokes County property.  To that end, we've hired a designer to work with us so we get a design we'll be happy with for years to come. She flys in late Saturday and we'll be walking the property on Sunday, and will hopefully have a working design by the time she leaves on  Tuesday.

Blair and I have spent many an evening pouring through back issues of Log Home magazines, ripping out photos of fireplaces, decks, kitchens, and lofts that appeal to us. We've done almost a 180 in what we think we want for the cabin versus where we were 2 years ago. Then, we wanted a big golden-hued cabin with round logs, a full wall of glass arched out in the shape of a ship's bow at the back of the house, a fireplace big enough to walk into, decks off every bedroom, etc.

However, seeing as our plans to win the lottery to pay for all of the above have come to naught, we've scaled it back a bit. Now we're looking at handpeeled in perhaps a natural, weathered state of gray on the outside, with more of the tawny, golden hue on the inside. Flat logs, to cut back on dust. No wall of glass, which turns into a great big BLACK wall of nothingness at night. Still must have a real fireplace, but on a much smaller scale. And we are looking still at a wraparound deck.

I don't care about space as much as I do about unique. I don't want a cabin that looks exactly like every other cabin out there. I want the nooks and crannies used in surprising ways. I want a flow among the rooms and the feel of the cabin to be that there is more space than there actually is. Above all, we want simple. "Less is more" is our mantra for this experience.

I'm VERY curious to see what the designer comes up with. We found her quoted and used as an expert in several of the national magazines on log homes, and she always impressed us because her view was to look at where can you get the most bang for your buck. Huge fireplaces are lovely, but they're also drafty and cost a huge amount of money in stonework.

So, exciting weekend ahead of us. I'll keep you posted.

The Attack of the Camel Cricket

Do you see this nasty thing? It's called a camel cricket and I just had a violent encounter with one in my bathroom. I'm not trying to defend my actions but let me just say this... he started it.

It's 10:15 PM, I finish brushing my teeth and put my toothbrush in the holder. As I do, something large and brown on the back right shoulder of my white t-shirt catches my attention. It's a full-grown camel cricket, waving its slimy little antenna at me.

I do what any rational, sane person would do, which is to start screaming hysterically. Camel crickets may be entirely harmless but for those not familiar with the breed, let me tell you, they have super powers. They can leap across the room and are adept at avoiding hard sole shoes banged on the floor in an attempt to smoosh them. These suckers MOVE.

Which has its advantages. Normally they'll flit away at any sign of action. Note I said, "normally." So I'm screaming (Blair's still at work, so it's just me and the cats who at my first scream ran to guard their food dishes) and I flick my hand at the camel cricket. It friggin' crawls closer up my shoulder, near my neck.

Baby, listen to my vocals now. Screeching, I flick at it again and rip my shirt off, beating it on the bathroom floor. I cautiously lift the shirt. No sign of the cricket. I told you they're fast. Then a horrible, dreadful thought occurs to me. I slowly turn toward the mirror. My hair.

My hair has grown out considerably from the photo you see at the right. Plus, I let it air dry after showering tonight, so it's a wild mass of tangled curls--the perfect hiding lair for a sneaky camel cricket.

I start beating my head, simultaneously holding out strands of curls and shaking them. I don't know if I'm more afraid of finding it or not finding it. Luckily, I think, I find nothing.

"Oh, you are so dead when I find you," I announce. "Don't say you weren't warned."

I grab a shoe and prep for battle. After a close examination of the bathroom, I find my enemy cowering under the counters. I thrust a shoe at him. He leaps away--and disappears.

Friggin' stupid t*&%%* camel cricket.

Then-aha! I spy a leg near the toilet. BAM! BAM! I got him! He's smooshed. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM. (I feel it best to err on the side of caution when it comes to "smooshed" status.)

So I'm safe now. Although my enemy has left his mark. In the 10 minutes it's taken me to type this entry, I've looked over my shoulder and shook my hair out about twenty times. Just in case I missed something.

Lesson? You mess with me, you get the hard end of the heel.