The Kindergarten And Potted Plant Association

Yes, that is a mouthful.
And yes, The Kindergarten And Potted Plant Association
was an actual organization of society women in 1890s New York,
who endeavored to bring beauty into the lives of tenement-dwelling 5-year olds
by giving them potted plants to care for.

The Rich, as they say, are different.

And in the case of these babes, well-meaning but apparently not terribly bright.

I'm betting the kids would rather have had shoes.

But more on this later.  First, a trip downstairs to our newly French-drained cellar.

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I think of this project as

The Nineteenth Century Strikes Back!

Ta-da-da-DA-da . . . 

While these cement floors look innocent enough, in reality they are the Supermen of their ilk.

 They were, according to the work crew, the hardest they had ever encountered.

And their attempts to put a pipe through any of the foundation walls for drainage?

That Old House was having none of it.  The foundation was too hard and thick, impossible to breach.

 Which kind of amuses me.  Those old guys knew how to build, didn't they?

Use granite stones, and you can pretty much bank on them not going anywhere without a really big fight.

I shared the spooky progress pictures of this project earlier this week.

Now, the first of the afters; French drains in place, and major appliances and utility sink

no longer gallivanting all over the basement, but meekly back in their rightful places.

 Instead of our original plan to escape to the beach house this weekend, Howard and I

are going to try and get the whole basement cleaned, the few remaining shelves painted,

and some heavy duty plastic shelving units installed, put in a dehumidifier, all so that the mess upstairs

can be tidily stowed back downstairs, where it belongs.  Where it will be dry.

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Now, about those well-meaning but air-headed ladies of the Kindergarten And Potted Plant Association?

They have a role in the new play Anne is working on, The Giantess.

She's building over-the-top giddy costumes for them.

I'm hoping there will be leftovers of some of her fabrics, because they'd make dandy decorative pillow covers.

How 'bout this bustle?

Imagine that -- a time when you wanted your husband to say,

"Gee, that dress makes your butt look big!"

 As you can see, we still have the cellar boxes and bits in the study.

And the hallway.

And the kitchen.

And the dining room.

Yeah, no beach house for us this week, unless we work really fast tomorrow afternoon! -- Cass

It Never Rains, But It . . .

. . . never rains.

There's no middle ground this summer.  It's wet, for days.  Or it's dry, for days.
We are in the middle of one of those dry hot spells.  Our grass is beginning to be tinged with brown.

Look - it's turning into rocks!

"Now, Cass," I hear you say, "you are just being silly.  Those rocks used to be your cellar floor!"

And as always, you are right.

See this dude?

That is Mr. Jack Hammer, and he's been up to some pretty big mischief downstairs at That Old House.

Howard ventured downstairs and snapped some pics this morning.

At the foot of the kitchen stairs:

In the boiler room:

Although there is good news.

Clearly I won't be doing laundry today!

There are piles of dirt and rubble all over the cellar, and jack-hammered-out ditches.

And yes, we have a radiator in our basement.  Two, in fact.  We don't know why; old houses are loaded with goofiness. It's naturally warm in winter; after all, it's where the boiler lives! Perhaps some slick radiator salesman came through 95 years ago.  One of the radiators is on the ceiling.  Weird.

By the end of the day, the ditch and the piping should be covered over,

and all should be back to normal.  Or so they say.  Keep your fingers crossed.

This is where I just have to say to myself, "These guys know what they are doing."

If having the French drain system installed is not enough fun and games for one day

at That Old House, the folks who built our conservatory will be coming by to clean and adjust it.

They were supposed to do this 2 days before the wedding, but it poured rain and they said

it was too dangerous to be up on the glass roof when it's wet. Wimps.

Weak as water, I tell you. Weak as water!

That Old House says she's ready for a rest.  For the past two months she's been poked and prodded, cleaned and painted, fixed and refurbished, and she's had enough fussing!  Although she did kind of like that hand scraping of her clapboards by those nice young men . . . .

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I toddled out onto the porch this morning to snap the cement chunks picture.

And in common with 99% of his brethren, our dog Dion figured I was gone, and never coming back.

 Look at that worried face.

I'm right here where you can see me, you silly mutt!

So now he's sleeping right behind my desk chair.

I'm trapped.

Have a lovely Tuesday

I had plans to finally join Marty's Cloche Party, but A) I don't have a cloche and

B) I don't have a part of my house I'm willing to photograph for pretty stuff this week!

But you can go visit; click the link above.  -- Cass

Fading Flowers and Peeling Paint -- It's Friday

July 1, and in the USA it's the beginning
of the Fourth of July weekend.
But up north on this continent, our neighbors are celebrating.

Happy Canada Day to the many wonderful Canadian

bloggers I have met through That Old House!

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Howard and I planned to spend this 3-day weekend out at the beach house on Long Island.

Wouldn't that be lovely?

I want to sit right here, in front of the house, with a cup of morning coffee.

But reality has raised its plug-ugly head.

On July 18th, men with jackhammers are coming to do unspeakable things to the cellar at That Old House and install French drains so that our boiler room and other cellar nooks will not become water features during heavy rains anymore.

Not a glamorous renovation, but needs must and all that.

In order for the jackhammer boys to violate our cellar, Howard and I have to clear out most of the stuff that has accumulated down there over the past 3 years.  I'd show you a picture, but I do not want to be held responsible for your analysts' bills.

Did you ever see one of those Hoarders shows on television?  

Yeah.  We are not getting out to Southold this weekend, that's for sure.

Sigh.

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So, I am playing in and around the house this Friday.

At least until I go to my friend Betsy's for lunch and to see her brand new kitchen.

In the Parlor, I've moved the two funky buffet table arrangements from last weekend's wedding

to the fireplace mantel.  I trimmed off the browning Stock; it was not a good look.

In the middle, the cake topper.  A wooden silhouette, an Etsy buy, chosen and painted by The Bride.

When do you stop referring to The Bride as The Bride?

The Gerbera Daisies are holding up well, sturdy little troupers that they are.

The tall goofy Allium is doing its best to shed purple bits everywhere.  Thank you, Mr. Allium.

Tomorrow I've promised myself and my house that I will finally toss the wedding flowers.

No matter how hard it is to say goodbye to them!

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Hallelujah!

We can once again walk on our porch.

The gray deck paint finally dried; oil paint takes awhile to cure when it's 100% humidity in the air, as it was the few days before the wedding, when the porch was newly done.

Our porch furniture has been patiently waiting its turn, sitting in the front shrub bed.

Yes, we are the only house on the street with its porch furniture not on the porch.

But all the pieces need to be painted so they are staying where they are..

I hope that while we are hauling stuff up out of the cellar, Howard and I can still get these

old lovelies painted dark green this weekend, and back on the porch quickly.

If you have a flag, this is the weekend to fly it!

Oh, I should never say quickly, should I?  That's just asking for trouble.

Whatever you are celebrating or slaving over this weekend, I wish you good company, good food,

good vibrations . . . and safety.  Happy Fourth of July!  Let Old Glory wave!  -- Cass

OH!  I almost forgot the obligatory wedding picture of the day.

Everybody loves CAKE.

Link Parties!

At My Romantic Home, Show and Tell Friday.  click!

Home Sweet Home at The Charm of Home.  click!

Feathered Nest Friday at French Country Cottage.  click!

Furniture Friday at Miss Mustard Seed.  click!

Vintage Inspiration at Common Ground.  click!