DIY Episode III: Revenge of the Chairs

If you've been following this saga, you know that a few months ago, I bought some chairs at an estate sale. You can read about our first two rounds with said chairs here and here. 

This was round three. 

95. Beg your extremely handy husband for help. Admit he was right: that you had no idea how much work this project would be and SOS PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME. 
96. Pick a day that is really, really hot. You'll want to make this experience as unpleasant as possible. 
97. Invent an excuse like, "Just let me clean up the kitchen and I'll be right out!" while your husband gets started on the real work. 
98. Look at the window and feel pangs of guilt as you watch him measure the drop cloth seat back cover and cut the batting. 
99. Try and decide whether you feel guilty enough to actually go outside. 
100. You do. Go outside. Admire his work. 

101. Listen as he gives you your instructions for cutting the rest of the drop cloth seat backs and cushion covers. 
101. Ask him if he's sure he wants you to cut the pelts - wouldn't he be better at it? 
102. Sigh as he confirms that you are definitely cutting the pelts, and would you please stop calling them "pelts" because a pelt is animal skin? 
103. Ignore him and get started on pelt number one. 
104. Grab what are, somehow, despite having taught school and bought your own school supplies, THE ONLY SCISSORS IN THE HOUSE. 
105. Make sure these scissors are nice and dull. You definitely don't want to make this easy on yourself. They should be about as sharp as one of your back molars. 
106. Measure out how big your pelts should be. Consider using the old seat cover as a template. 
107. Remember that time you found a single dried Band-Aid next to a single dried Golden Graham stuck to these chairs and decide to wing it in order to avoid touching that nasty thing.

Hard pass. 

108. Rip and tear at the drop cloth with your molar scissors. 
109. ...for what seems like A FREAKIN' LIFETIME. 

110. Look over to discover that your husband has successfully covered a seat back. Get invigorated at this progress. 

111. Go help him by staple gunning the drop cloth to the chair. 
112. Only get a little mad at him when he pretends that you've stapled his finger to the chair, which you totally should have seen coming, but still - the man is a dentist, losing a finger isn't that funny JORDAN. 

113. Go back to your place on the chain gang: molar scissors.
114. To confirm your measurements, place the old seat bottom on top of your newly cut seat cover. Admire your work, but know that your husband would've cut everything perfectly straight and your work is inferior. 

115. Temporarily stop progress because of a dog who apparently isn't getting enough attention right now. 

116. Obviously pet your dog because come on lookatthatface. 
117. Then, keep cutting. The cutting. The cutting never ends. 

118. Since there aren't any fun articles to read (on broccoli rabe or anything else), assess the current construction situation on your street with disdain. 

Just to clarify, that's one next door and one across the street. Are you jealous? 

119. To entertain yourself while cutting, imagine ways that you could drive this construction crew away. 
120. Decide that the best way to get rid of them is to somehow convince them that this neighborhood is haunted.
121. Delight yourself with fantasies of moving their tools around and blaming on a ghost. 
122. Imagine you and your dog both going over, covered in white sheets, and just standing in a corner until somebody notices you and either calls the police or runs screaming from the structure. 
123. Decide maybe none of that is as good an idea as you think it is. 
124. Complete the pelt project. Finally. 
125. Stop for the day because it's about to rain. 

126. After church the next day, stop by Lowe's. 
127. Beg your husband to get some ice cream with you because the social media gods have declared it National Ice Cream Day. 
128. Bother him until he good-naturedly relents because he, too, loves ice cream. 
129. Pull up to Chick-Fil-A for some of that sweet soft serve AND REMEMBER THEY'RE CLOSED BECAUSE #SUNDAY KILL ME. 
130. Gather your strength and go without. 
131. Arrive back home, where it's time to paint these suckers. 
132. As usual, find something inside to busy yourself while your husband is being an angel and working hard. 

133. Once you go outside, realize you have unwittingly taken the worst job by handing your husband the painting job. 
134. While your husband is painting, you have to go through the other two chairs with the dental explorer and get all the grime and grout and dust and disgustingness out of there before they're painted. 
135. Consider flinging yourself from the roof. 
136. Decide to just get on with it. 

137. Discover that you actually really like this job. 
138. Wonder if it makes you a sick person that you relish in removing imperfections. 
139. Wonder if maybe you should've been a dermatologist or a dental hygienist. 
140. Resolve that it's not too late, but also remember that there's a lot of math and science involved in those jobs. 
141. Remember that time you got an 8 on an AP Chemistry test. 
142. Reconsider the whole "medical career" thing. 
143. Turn your attention to the foam padding for the seats. 
144. Discover that the seat bottoms are not, in fact, squares - so your husband will have to Frankenstein them together. 
145. After all that, they still have about an inch and a half of wood hanging off the back, so watch your husband use upholstery glue to made a piece that fits. 

146. Think to yourself that after all this work, if anyone comes to your house and spills spaghetti sauce on the chairs, that you will probably actually murder them. 
147. Briefly consider not ever inviting anyone to your house again. 
147. Add another coat of paint to the two chairs your husband painted, then add two coats to the remaining two (which have now been scraped of imperfections).
148. Cover one seat entirely. 

149. Stand back and admire your work. After a coat of varnish and the nailheads, these things will be just about done. 
150. As you're cleaning up, notice that the text you sent your husband (about how he sent you an old copy of the grocery list and that there's a newer one on the legal pad and could he please take a picture of that one) is sitting, dormant, on his phone. Realize this is why you had to wing it, and also why a box of chocolate covered pretzels ended up in the buggee. Whoops! You didn't have a list, it's not your fault. Decide to forgive him since he's basically done this entire project for you. Go cook him a big meal in appreciation. 

5 Things: Summer 2016's Trendiest Looks

It's mid-summer, which means a lot of stores are probably winding down their summer collections, which means there are probably a lot of sales going on. 

Take it from someone who works in retail. 

That being the case, I thought I'd share five great summer trends that I keep seeing over and over in the store and on our customers. Chances are, lots of stores are starting to put these pieces on sale - not because they're out of fashion, but because they're making room for fall collections. 

Now is a great time to buy a few of these things you've been lusting after for a few weeks since they'll likely be cheaper! 

1. Off-the-shoulder tops. 

This is probably the one I've seen most pervasively this season. They seem to be everywhere, doesn't it? I think they're adorable and wish I had 10,000 (although I am reminded that I once wrote a post about cleaning out our closets - UGH, competing priorities!!). 

2. Denim mini-skirts. 

I know, right? What year is it? 1994? Well, they're back. Every big retailer has 'em. It's hilarious. But there are some options that are a bit cuter than others, and if you start feeling like you want to sit and binge-watch Daria, there's really no harm in that, is there? 

3. Culottes. 

I recently read that Anna Wintour's #1 fashion trend she wants to ban from the planet is culottes. Girl, I would never want to disagree with you publically, especially since you'll obviously read this blog post, but I think SOMETIMES they can be pretty freakin' cute. Styled appropriately, of course. 

Please don't kill me, Anna Wintour. I wanna live to see my grandchildren. 

4. Scalloped swimwear. 

This is certainly not a white-hot trend, as these cute swimsuits have been EVERYWHERE for the past couple of season. I can't get enough of them - I think they're so flattering and give you such a great mix of classic style and a little edge while lounging by the pool. 

5. Mid-calf hemlines. 

Jordan thinks it's a weird length for dresses and pants, but I'm obsessed with it. This length is such an awesome throwback to the days when Audrey Hepburn was rocking mid-calf dress after mid-calf dress. 

Observe and drool: 

Headed out of town today, so this bad boy is going to serve as today's and tomorrow's post. Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend full of fun and love!! 

<3 

Your face is dirty.

Micellar water. 

I've written about it before, but I'm about to write about it again. 

Why? Because it's a magical tonic? 

Yes. 

Everybody, by this point in life, probably has a face wash to which they are loyal. I have been married to a few face washes in my lifetime: Aveeno Exfoliating Scrub, Clean and Clear Exfoliating Scrub, and Aveeno Foaming Cleanser. 

But nothing, nothing, nothing compares to my micellar water. Because micellar water is my face wash AND my moisturizer. 

(Especially since I found out that microbeads are about to be outlawed because of the way they slip through shower drains, don't dissolve, and kill the fish!)

Micellar water is the simplest cleanser out there, and, in my opinion, the healthiest for your face. The science behind it is really easy to understand. Micelles, which are just molecules of oil, attract impurities like dirt and makeup.

When you sweep a cotton round soaked with micellar water across your face, it's basically the skincare equivalent of a Swiffer: all those things you don't want? Sucked like a magnet onto the round.

In addition to cleansing your skin of all the stuff you don't want on it, it's also depositing healthy oil onto your skin, which is great for keeping your face young-looking. Normal cleansers strip your skin of makeup, but they also strip your skin of healthy oils, creating dryness and tightness. 

The thing that sold me on micellar water was exactly what I'm about to show you, because it really is such an easy-to-grasp example of exactly how micellar water is more effective than other cleansers. 

When I put on a full face of "everyday" makeup, I use: 

• Moisturizer mixed with foundation
• Under-eye concealer 
• Bone-colored eyeshadow on my brow bone
• Sand-colored eyeshadow in the crease of my eyelids
• Liquid eyeliner on my top lids
• Mascara on my top lashes 
• Darker brown eyeshadow to fill in my brows
• Brow gel 
• Blush 
• Some kind of lip color 
• Loose powder 

...that sounds like a lot when I type it all out. Yikes. 

Anyway, so for this experiment, I put on all of that makeup. I washed my face with Aveeno Foaming cleanser, then thoroughly removed my eye makeup with Neutrogena Oil Free Eye Makeup Remover. 

Just so you can see that I've taken all my makeup off, I took a (really unfortunate) makeup-free bathroom selfie. You're welcome. 

Hi. 

Right. 

Then, I soaked a cotton round in Caudalie Micellar Cleansing Water.  (The bold text there is a link if you'd like to purchase some yourself!) 

This is what was removed AFTER I washed my face and took my eye makeup off (I included a clean round for comparison): 

I thought, "I wonder if there's anything else left..." 

So I repeated the experiment and the second picture includes the SECOND round that collected makeup and dirt. 

It's mind-boggling, honestly. Despite my face appearing to me squeaky-clean after washing, I still had enough junk on my skin to fill up one and a half cotton rounds. Ew. 

The best part about this process? You just watched the entirety of it. Sweeping your face with cotton rounds = done. That's the whole thing. 

You never wash your face with water. You just sweet micellar water over your skin twice a day (morning and night). Your face never gets dry - it just keeps getting better. 

I use a homemade mask (coffee grounds, greek yogurt, lemon juice, and honey) once a week to exfoliate. Otherwise, it's all micellar water, all the time. 

If you need more convincing (because I would - I like second opinions), read about it here and here. If you don't need more convincing, go buy you some daggum micellar water and prepare to be amazed. 

Nonnie's Oatmeal Chocolate Cookies

Because sometimes, cookies are just the ticket. 

This is not your average oatmeal chocolate chip cookie.

As you can see from the picture above, they're crunchy - brittle, almost - which makes them absolutely irresistible. 

These cookies are a staple of my childhood. My mom (who got the recipe from my grandmother, Nonnie) would usually make two batches: one with nuts (for my dad and me) and one without (for my younger brother, who, for the first 15 years of his life, only ate things that started with "ch," like chocolate, chicken, and cheese). 

I whipped this up for Jordan to take to work last week and he said they were a big hit. They're not complicated (nor are they healthy - full disclosure), but they are perfectly delicious. 

What makes these cookies so different from others? 

The balance of salt against sugar is really the star of this recipe. They're crunchy, but light, so when you finish one, you feel like you could go back for five more. (And if you're me, you do go back for five more.) Trust. These will knock you out. 

Ingredients: 

1 cup Crisco
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
1 ¼ cup sifted all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cinnamon
3 cups Quaker Old Fashioned oats
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup chopped pecans

Directions: 

1. Preheat oven to 350. Sift together flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon in a mixing bowl and set aside.

2. Cream crisco and sugars together.

3. Add vanilla and eggs. Mix well.

4. Add flour mixture and mix thoroughly. (Tip: Make sure your flour mixture is whisked smooth - no lumps!)

5. If you're a nut kind of gal (or guy), add pecans and stir them in with a wooden spoon. 

6. Drop by the rounded tablespoon onto a greased baking sheet, parchment, or (my favorite thing in the world) a clean Silpat. 

7. Bake at 350 for 12-14 minutes, depending on your oven. The cookies will be golden brown and have a light, crunchy texture when they're cooled. If you can manage not to eat the dough, this recipe yields 48! 

This is a perfect, quick, and seriously crowd-pleasing cookie to make if you ever need to bake for lost of people - a work event, bake sale, party, etc. People will be begging you for the recipe! 

If You Are White.

If you are White, and you are reading this, I want to ask you a favor. 

I want us to talk. I don't mean I want to preach at you, or scream my opinions and then flee - I mean I want to have this conversation as though you were right here at my kitchen table with me, because if you're reading this, chances are, I know you personally and I love you. 

If you'll let me, I need to say some things first about where this is coming from.

I am not writing this post because I am an expert on race relations. I'm not writing it because I think I can say anything better or more meaningfully than it has already been said. I am not writing this to blame you or shake my finger at you if the things that we talk about are new ideas for you. I'm not writing it because I have a vast knowledge of criminal justice or police codes of conduct. 

I am writing this post because I am a White person who has had lots of hard, tearful, gut-wrenching conversations about race in both structured and unstructured environments, both with people of color and without. I am writing this post because I have been in the unique position to sit in a circle of my Black coworkers and hear them speak about how painful it can be to be Black in America - and that some of their pain was caused unconsciously by things I did or things I left undone. I am writing to share with you some things that I would never have learned had I not sat in those circles. I'm writing this because I am fortunate to have friends that span the political spectrum, and because I believe that when I get it right, I can deliver loving words that ring true across lines of belief. 

Mostly, though, I am writing this post because I believe in my bones that to stand silent in the face of brokenness is wrong. 

I am writing this post tentatively, intentionally, walking on glass to make sure that every word I write is the word I mean to choose. I will undoubtedly write and re-write this post several times, so please understand: this is being created with care. 

I want to talk about Alton Sterling. 

Alton Sterling was 37 years old. He was shot to death by police in Baton Rouge yesterday. 

If you are White and have not seen this video, I encourage you to watch it. Typically, this is not the kind of thing I would share. I don't see any reason for violent or graphic images or videos - no matter what they feature - to be passed around. But this needs to be seen. 

Let's talk about some of the reactions that we can have to this video. Let's just break them down, truly. 

1. It's possible that you can't watch this video again because you are Black. It may be that seeing another person of color killed by police is simply too painful to even engage with. You don't want to see it because you or someone you know has been in a similar situation with a police officer, or because you live in fear of being in one in the future. 

2. It's possible that you are a person, regardless of race, whose first instinct is to assume that the Mr. Sterling must have done something to warrant the kind of treatment he received from the police officers in the tape. You feel so sad for him and for his family, but you also feel suspicious. 

3. You may be a person who sees this video and feel overwhelmed and numb, impotent to do anything about it. What is there to do? 

4. You might be a White person who sees this video and puts on proverbial armor. You may think to yourself, "Here we go again. I'm going to have to hear about this for weeks. This guy probably did something to set these cops off, and he's going to get painted as yet another face of the Black Lives Matter movement when he was probably up to no good in the first place." 

Maybe you feel more than one of those things. A mixture. It's probable that your reaction has something to do with your race. 

As I said earlier - I have no idea what the details of this case will turn out to be. I've read reports that the reason the police were called is because Mr. Sterling had a weapon. I've read reports that say a gun was recovered from his pocket after he'd been killed. I have no idea what will surface in the weeks and months to come, though for the purposes of the points I'm trying to make here, none of that matters. 

What I do know is this: there were two grown men sitting on top of him. In my mind, as an un-trained, non-law professional, it is clear that Mr. Sterling was not posting any sort of deadly threat to the police officers on the scene or to others around him. Alton Sterling was shot for, what seems to me to be, no reason. I don't understand it. And not just in a "I don't understand the world! Why do bad things happen??" way - I literally don't understand it. I don't understand why that happened. It is excessive force. It's murder. 

If you are White, if you would, I'd like you to do something that will be upsetting for a minute. I want you to imagine a man that you love. Your father, your husband. Your son. Really, I mean it. Hold them in your mind. (I'm doing this exercise right along with you, here.) 

Now replace Mr. Sterling with the man you love.

Imagine that man being shot at point blank range and killed. Imagine the video of his murder circulating across the world. Imagine that this is one in a series of people who look like you who have been, for whatever reason, gunned down by a group of people who are supposed to protect you. Imagine having to assume that the person who shot the man you love will not go to jail, because no other police officers who've shot people who look like you have. Imagine that this person you love had some kind of brush with law enforcement in his past (a DUI, a drug possession charge, a public intoxication) and that that incident is being trotted out as a means of justifying his death. 

Would you feel safe? Would it be easy to trust that the justice system is always fair? These questions are hypothetical if you are White. 

It's enough to make you nauseous that for Black Americans, this isn't a hypothetical. This isn't a mental exercise that will be upsetting for a minute. It's a reality that's upsetting for a lifetime. 

If you are White, chances are, you have never worried that you'll be mistreated by police. 

Speaking from my own experience, there's never been a moment when I've thought, "I need to make sure both my hands are free as I approach this police officer so he won't think I'm holding a gun." I've never worried about whether what I'm wearing makes me look like a "thug," and therefore worried that I'll be profiled by law enforcement. I've never once feared for my life at the sight of a police officer approaching my driver's side window to give me a ticket. I will never have to teach my children not to run if there's a police officer nearby so that the cops won't think they're running FROM something. I will never have to worry whether my son's hoodie made him a suspect. 

This is because I am a White, blonde, 130-pound upper-middle class female. When you look at me, you make a snap judgment that I am non-threatening. If I were shot by police, no matter the circumstances, there would be a NATIONAL UPROAR. Remember Natalee Holloway? 

Here's what I really want to say: 

If you are White, no matter what your socioeconomic status or how much money you have in the bank, it means you will almost always get the benefit of the doubt in any given situation. If you are Black, it means you probably won't.

The concept of "White privilege" is a tricky one to unpack. When it's done poorly (and it's done poorly a lot) it is explained so that White people feel like their response should be, "I'm sorry for being White." 

That's not what White privilege means. When someone says that Black Lives Matter, they don't mean White Lives Don't. They're saying it doesn't even need to be said aloud that White Lives Matter, because just look around! It's obvious. Black Lives Matter means that because of the state of the world, we actually have to say out loud that Black Lives Matter, lest it be forgotten. 

Privilege means, in my own life, I know that almost everything I do will be met with relative ease. If my house gets broken into, I feel confident knowing that police will defend me. If I break down on the side of the road, I'm comfortable calling for help. And if I were shot, no one would ask, "What did she do to deserve it?" In a few hours, I'll be at work helping customers and I'm sure there will be a moment in my day when I won't be thinking about race. But that's because I don't have to think about it in order to survive in the world. That's what privilege is. 

Alton Sterling was selling CDs and DVDs to make a living. He had the blessing of the store owner. And he was shot. Why? 

I'm not asking you to condemn law enforcement. I'm not asking you to stop asking questions or engaging in dialogue. Chances are that if you've had a complicated experience with race, it has nothing to do with hate and everything to do with fear. And I understand that. There have been so many times in my own conversations about race when I was afraid to hear the answers to the questions I was asking. And it was hard. And thank God, because those were the moments when I consider myself to have been educated. 

Wherever you are in your journey with issues like this - whether you're someone who tries to live a life of racial consciousness on a daily basis, or you're someone who has historically stayed out of conversations like this one because they're just too intense - there's room for you. Everybody has room to grow. God knows I do. 

All it takes is remembering that race isn't something that Black America gets to forget about - they live in it, every day, all day. All it takes is softening your heart to understand what it must be like to live in a country where someone who looks like you is shot down in the street on a far-too-regular basis, and then you have to listen to people debate whether or not that person deserved to die. 

If nothing else, what you can do is sit for a second. Consider what it would be like to not be you. How the world could be a very different, scarier, and less safe place. How you have the opportunity to stand up for something here, and say definitively that you are ready to do your part, to learn, to listen. How this is a moment where humility and deep compassion need to drive our response of holy outrage. How this movement has already started, and we as White people need to just get on board.

Any little change you make in the way you talk about and/or perceive situations like this - that will make a difference. Changing your little corner of the world will make a difference. Not allowing people to make racially insensitive jokes just "because this is the South;" not accepting prejudice around you; not jumping to conclusions about who did and deserved what - all of that makes a difference. And a difference is what we need. 

Because a human being breathed his last yesterday after being shot to death. In a parking lot. By a cop.

Because we have to find a way to make America everyone's America. 

Because now is the moment to lift your voice, if you are White. 

Postscript, July 8, 4:30 PM: 

Thank you all for your heartfelt and passionate comments. I am so happy that you chose to engage here, even if what you wanted to share was that you wholeheartedly disagree. I'm choosing to close the comments section, as I believe salient points have been made and can be reflected on by reading the thoughts that have already been contributed rather than by adding additional commentary. 

Out of dialogue comes a lot of understanding, and even when we don't see eye-to-eye, we're made better for having heard the others' opinions. 

Thanks again, 
MC

DNR - JTI: Construction.

As usual, credit where it's due for the "DNR - JTI" idea, invented by the much cooler and funnier Mollie Erickson, whose blog can be found here. 

Dear Construction, 
You and I have a complicated relationship. In Jordan's and my first and second homes, we've unwittingly moved in next door to what would be a construction site. This year, as an added bonus, we moved not just next door to a construction site, but also across the street from one. By "complicated," I of course mean you make me want to pluck out my eyeballs out and throw them at you. DNR - JTI.

Dear Nailgun, 
sssssssFOOM. sssssFOOM. sssssFOOM. This is the soundtrack of my life. It scores my laundry-doing, my bed-making, my tidying up, my dinner-cooking, my bill-paying. I used to be scared of Javier Bardem in No Country For Old Men. Now I just want him to come cow-tranquilize me between the eyes so I can escape you, nailgun. It's not your fault, I'm sure you do a perfectly good job at what it is you do. But...I hate you.  DNR - JTI. 

Dear Head Guy of the Guys Pouring Concrete,
We live on a one-way street. You have chosen to park your very large truck in the middle of said street, and not in the gravel driveway that was, I should point out, built into the construction site for the express purpose of housing large vehicles like yours. When I politely ask you to park there instead, you look at me, wink, grin, and say, "No." I really should be congratulating you, because I don't think any one person has ever made me so instantly full of white-hot rage. If you think that because I'm a girl I can't come down there and kick your ass, you haven't seen Mulan. DNR - JTI. 

Dear 7:30 in the Morning,
I used to love you, 7:30. You were a sweet time full of soft morning sunlight and coffee smell. You were a gentle nudge into the rest of the day. Now, you are the sound of the "reverse" warning for backhoe digging up the lot across the street. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP WAKE UP MARY CATHERINE THE BACKHOE IS HERE GET UP WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO TODAY I BET IT'S A LOT HAVE YOU EVEN PLANNED WHAT YOU'RE COOKING FOR DINNER I BET YOU HAVEN'T YOU'LL BE LATE FOR PURE BARRE IF YOU DON'T GET UP RIGHT NOW  TOM HANKS PROBABLY NEEDS TO GO OUT WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE HAVE YOU FIGURED IT OUT YET BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP DNR JTI BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Dear Tree-Clearing Team,
You guys really are the worst. You stole our shade. You cut down the trees where all the bear cubs used to play. I don't mean to go all FernGully here, but you should really see that movie. It might change some things for you. DNR - JTI. 

Dear Big Giant Man,
I think you're a high-ranking person on this job, even though you flick your cigarettes everywhere. Every time I drive past your worksite, you look at my car and shake your head disapprovingly. Why is that? Is it because you assume I am not very cool? Is it because you think I'm a snobby little blonde girl? Is it because of that time you had your truck and trailer parked next door, but it was hanging like two inches into our yard and I asked you to move it? ...okay yeah, it's probably that one. You gotta understand, BGM, that my experience with construction is if we give you guys an inch, before long, you'll be chainsawing our porch off for some extra wood. Don't be mad. I really don't like when people don't like me. Can't we make it work? DNR - JTI. 

Dear Bears,
I love that you guys don't care about the construction and will wander down anyway. We were worried all this noise would drive you away, but we should've known better. Y'all are the native members of this neighborhood. You run this shizz. If you really like me, you'll show up in the middle of the day and make all these big tough construction guys, some of whom have been not very nice to me, tee tee in their pants. Check in and I'll point them out. I'd consider it a personal favor. DNR - JTI. 

Dear Future Next-Door Neighbors,
You'll have to forgive me if, when I bring you the customary "Welcome to the Neighborhood" casserole, I accidentally punch you in the teeth. It's going to be a reflex. I won't be able to help it. But I really do hope you like your new home. DNR - JTI (the casserole and the punch in the teeth).