I DIY'ed (and have no evidence to prove it)

It's true. There are no photos.

I grouted my bathroom floor two weekends ago, and didn't even get the camera out. I am a bad blogger.

I just wanted to get it the heck done. My bathroom is narrow, my rear end is big, and the image of me draping myself awkwardly across the toilet to get into the far corner with the tile float didn't seem like something I wanted to put out there on the interwebs. I'm not that humble.

So I just have some grout to show you:

The other reason for leaving the lens cap on the camera was, well, feeling insecure and cranky about the whole thing. I had been told and read that you could grout vinyl tile, and I did indeed find vinyl tile grout at the home improvement store. But then (oh, the internet is a big, sticky place!) I began to find contradictions to this information, and warnings, and then more grand assurances that not only can you grout vinyl, you should. My head was spinning. I decided to turn the computer off and just go do it.

The job turned out okay, but did not go at all like I imagined. Vinyl tile is much thinner than regular tile, and so it's really easy to push the grout in with the tile float......and then just as easy to remove it with the sponge as you're cleaning it up, since the depth of the grout is actually quite thin in the grooves. Add the fact that I'm terrible about walking away from anything that needs to be left alone for drying or setting time, and well, let's just say my aggravation level was a little above baseline.

Bringing a camera into that scene was just tempting fate. So I am sorry, but I have no step by step how-to's on this one.

Was it worth it?

I think the difference is subtle, but there. It makes the floor seem more finished. Here's a before:

And here we are all done:

It remains to be seen how it holds up. It is very thin compared to grouted ceramic or stone tile, but it is also made to be flexible to accommodate the flexing you're naturally going to get with a soft material. I'd like it to take me about 3 years down the road before I start the serious upgrades in here.

Would I do this again? Probably not. I spent too much time fussing about with the mess. I definitely wasn't in touch with my inner mud-pie baker for this job. I was worried that in scrubbing off haze I'd also scrub the finish off the tile; it's vinyl, not as impervious as ceramic or stone.

That said, it gave me a more finished "look," sealed the edges of the tile from all the splashy, drippy bathers that go through this bathroom, and (I hope) will make it last longer.

And it's an item off the list! Woo!

10 Mini Projects for the Bathroom

1. Upgrade the cabinet hardware.
2. Grout the floor.
3. Paint
4. Replace the light fixture
5. Replace the mirror
6. Replace the toilet paper holder.
7. Replace the shower curtain rod.
8. Add art and decorative items.
9. Replace counter top.
10. Replace sink and faucet

Next up is the toilet paper holder. 

Fork and Spoon Friday: Roasted Vegetables

What do you pack in lunches for work?

I wish I had a better system, but I'm trying to perfect it. One thing I do know is that if I don't have something made up and ready to go in the fridge, I'm far more likely to a) eat out or pick something up from a deli or b) eat from the vending machine. Both tend to be expensive and unhealthy. So I try to keep some things prepared.

One of my favorites is roasted vegetables:

It's hot, filling, and comforting, good for that midday break. But they are also healthy, low fat, vegetarian, and full of fiber and vitamins. Did I mention cheap? So, yes, better in every way than that bag of chips from the vendo-land in the hallway.

I thought I'd show everyone how I make mine. It's easy to do in a half hour to 45 minutes on a Sunday, and is amazingly flexible.

Choose your veggies:

Here I have a sweet potato, some small red potatoes I had left from another meal, a green pepper, and a leftover half of a red onion. This is a little on the lean side for amounts. I usually roast enough so that I have about 4 to 5 cups of roasted vegetables when I'm done. This will get me about three.

You can roast almost anything. Parsnips, turnips, winter squash, and beets are good. So is fennel bulb and leeks. Mushrooms work too, and in spring you can add asparagus. Tomatoes taste heavenly roasted, but they do tend to overwhelm other veggies in the flavor mix, so I usually leave them out, and do them all by themselves for other uses. Using potatoes that are all sorts of colors makes a beautiful roast mix.

Chop up your veggies. I peel the sweet potatoes:

But I don't peel the red ones: 

1 1/2 to 2-inch chunks are about the right size. I cut up the pepper, and added some orange and red mini-peppers I found in the crisper drawer that were a little marginal for fresh eating:

And the onion, in big wedges: 

Put just the firmest, root veggies in a cast iron skillet or pan. For me that's the red potatoes and sweet potatoes. This would also be the time to add turnips, beets, parsnips, or winter squash. You want a dark, heavy pan that can store and radiate heat for this. My cast iron skillet is older than I am, and I love it for this job.

Drizzle them with 1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons olive oil, and salt and pepper them to taste. Toss so they and the pan are thoroughly coated.

Slide them in a 400-degree oven:

Bake them for 15 minutes, stirring once in the middle of that time. By the end of 15 minutes, the vegetables should look a little translucent in places, and you should see some browning in some places:

Add the softer vegetables. In my case, this would be the peppers and onions. This would also be a good time to add asparagus, broccoli, cauliflower, fennel, and mushrooms:

Slide them back in the oven for another 15 minutes. Stir once or twice during this time, making sure you get up all the brown toasty bits that stick to the pan. That's what makes it taste good.. When it's out for one of those stirring sessions, add 1 finely chopped chipotle chili in adobo sauce, plus a tablespoon of sauce from the can. I usually keep chipotle peppers in a adobo sauce in a container in the freezer so that I can pop out one for recipes like this. The chipotle adds a little spice and flavor, but you can add more if you like heat. You can also skip this entirely if you'd rather not.

By end of cooking time, the vegetables should be looking nice and roasty. They look done when they look like this:

This batch got me about 3 cups of veggies, a little on the small side. For me that's 2 big servings or three smaller ones. This is good with shredded cheddar melted on top. You can also add a side of brown rice to keep it vegetarian. Roast vegetables also make a good side dish for home suppers of grilled meats.

I love how versatile and healthy it is. What's your go-to work lunch?

Do I Have To? Install a Door Sweep

Welcome to the ass-backward part of the show, where I do something in April that I should have done in October. This time, I'm installing a door sweep on the interior of our front door. It's my once-a-month series "Do I Have To?" where I tackle an unglamorous project.

Yes, I should have done this when it started getting chilly last fall. No, it didn't happen. But, it's always possible that April will essentially be another month of winter around here. It's happened before. I'd intended for this "Do I Have To?" to be an outdoor one, but the ground is still frozen-ish. Maybe next month.

And if April actually means spring, it means hot weather soon. That's another good reason to have a good seal on your door.

Let's get started:

This is how it looked for months. The inside of my front door with the new door sweep leaning up in the corner. Shiny, new, and useless:

The door is original to the house, I believe. The flooring is crummy old sheet vinyl. Teaching myself how to tile is going to be a fall project (she says confidently now). That's my bag of tools and a level.

The first thing to do was scrape off the leftovers of some previous weatherproofing. It was some sort of foam tape, and I didn't want it to prevent my aluminum and rubber sweep from fitting tightly to the door:

The door sweep is 36" long, with a little bit extra run of the rubbery flange on each end. I measured my door, and it is 35 3/4" wide.

Now usually, if you have a substantial amount of length to remove off of a door sweep, it's recommended that you take an equal amount off EACH END, so the screws end up evenly spaced. And hey, I recommend that too. I'm not a non-conformist when it comes to these things.

However, a measly 1/4 inch isn't enough to fuss about, and cutting 1/8 inch of BOTH ends just seemed absurd, and possibly difficult (It's harder to make clean cuts of smaller lengths that longer ones). I decided I'd cut off the 1/4 on the hinge end of the door sweep, in case I didn't do such a great job cutting the aluminum. You'll see that was good thinking.

I also needed to decide on placement. It seems like you would want to mark a line first with the level, then decided where the sweep would be in relation to that line. Here's the other ass-backward part: I didn't do it that way. I dry-fit the sweep to the door where it would fit snugly against the threshold and without brushing the floor, by eyeball. And I really mean by eyeball. I was smack on my shoulder on the floor to get a good look. Then I drew a line across the entire door with a pencil, right against the door sweep's top edge. I've dropped the sweep down in the picture to take a photo (because I don't have four hands, and sometimes I wish I did):

People who know me really well will understand what's hinky in this picture. Guess in the comments!

Then I checked it for level:

I was pretty darn spot on. If I'd really hosed it up, I'd have just scrubbed out the line and started over.

I marked the 1/4 inch that I wanted to cut off on the sweep with a Sharpie marker. Yes, I know that shiny brass is "out" but based on what color this door will end up being, it's the way to go. I tried to cut it with some all purpose metal snips:

But they weren't strong enough. Dangit. I'd even bought them for this job (and because I'd had to borrow a neighbor's more than once before, which is a good indication you need your own). There were extrusions on the backside to reinforce the piece, and they were doing too good of a job. Also, I have small, weak, puny, girly hands.

By some miracle (is there a patron saint of tools?), I had a hack saw that came in a box of my late great-uncle's things. The blades were still sharp.

So, hack saw this, baby:

Now I need clamps. This would have gone much better if I wasn't simply wedging it against my thigh with my elbow. But I don't have a bench with clamp. So it's my thigh or nothing (a sentence never used in a do-it-yourself segment ever before, I'm sure).

So? Not that straight. Or great.

And a hack blade slip made a mark in the brass finish. Boo. Thankfully, I've yet to have a guest say in my home: "Your decor is lovely, however, there is a terrible ding in your door sweep. It ruined the moment for me." And this is why I made the cut on the hinge side. A little less noticeable.

I cut off the end off the rubber (vinyl?) sweep:

Next, I dry-fit the sweep to the door again, and attempted to make marks through the pre-drilled holes on the sweep so I'd know where to put the pre-drilled holes in the door for the screws. But no pencil, pen, whatever, would penetrate the aluminum piece (which is arched slightly) and the rubber sweep, and so it devolved into a 20 minutes of well-this-won't-work-what-about-this-dangit-where's-my-awl-nope-can't-find-it-what? up and down nonsense that is so infuriating when this is supposed to be a relatively simple task. I finally just got out my drill and bumped a small drill mark through each hole.

This is my drill. Her name is Dorothy. Dorothy DeWalt. She and I drilled pilot holes for the screws:

Then I screwed the sweep to the door, and done:

A few things:

This door is grubby, and in need of a good coat of paint. That'll come when the house gets painted.

In a post last year I said that every project time estimate needs a dumb-crap margin. The dumb-crap margin is all the stuff that happens that doesn't include actually doing the project. So, losing a tool, realizing your method isn't working and having to change it, running to the hardware store for another part, stopping mid-project to cook hotdogs for the kids, the weather-- these are all part of the dumb-crap margin.

The dumb-crap margin on this was high, because the length of the actual project is pretty short to begin with. So even though my setbacks were irritating rather than tragic or catastrophic, I still spent more time than necessary running around trying to find a tool that would cut the metal, and an implement that would mark the screw holes. The entire project was an hour start to finish. Entirely half of it was dumb crap. My dumb-crap margin was 50 percent. Bad.

I'm hoping next month to move "Do I Have To?" outdoors. Though it will still be true to its theme, annoying projects on my list to get done, it's gotta be better with some fresh air and sunshine. Until May, my friends.

The Problem with Paint Colors That Look Like Baby Poop

The problem with paint colors that look like baby poop, is well, self-evident: 

Prunes? Or roast beef dinner, do you think? 

I can't tell either, which should give you the idea that this particular shade of mauve is about as unidentifiable as the contents of a soiled diaper. Is that brown? Purple? Who knows?

I'm not a fan of mauve on the principle that it's an indecisive color. It's not gray, pink, purple, lavender, tan, or taupe, so I just want to slap it around and tell it to make up its mind already. But this particular mauve seems even more sunk than usual into mauvian identity crisis. I don't know what this paint chip was named. I don't want to know.

When we first moved in, there was carpet in this main floor full bath, which covered up a layer of mauve (ack!) broken tiles (see the floor along the edge of the room in the photo below). Hours of scraping later, we ended up with this dried glue over plywood subfloor, which we lived with for longer than I care to admit. But even that was better than the carpet with years of other people's dirt (shudder) ground into it.

In the meantime a friend replaced the leaky toilet with a new one, and a plumber neighbor has been over to fix the leaky shower twice, the slow moving sink drain once. At one point I tried to make myself like the bathroom color by buying a shower curtain that coordinates with it (see photo again, above). And I like the shower curtain just fine, but the color purple in the shower curtain was actually a rich, vibrant plum, and instead of perking up the wall color, it just showed it up, showed it how feeble it really was. And so I hated the paint color even more.

The neighbor installed a vinyl peel-and-stick tile floor for me last May. It's intended to last a few years until I can decide what I really want to do with this bathroom and have the money to invest in some tile.

I left the bathroom alone while I fell down the rabbit hole of kitchen painting, and now that I'm pretty well done with that project (except for one stupid curtain), I'm ready to tackle this room again.

I have a lot of ill will for this room. Things I hate:

The toilet paper holder. It was installed on the wall crooked (though admittedly this photo makes it look  more crooked than it is, based on the angle of the camera), and was loose. After having the roll fall out on the floor more times than I could stand, I had a wee temper tantrum and yanked the whole thing off the wall. So. This photo is where that matter stands.

The ugly light fixture. This is an airport landing strip in a bathroom that is barely 7 feet across. Turning it on transforms my bathroom into a lavender-roasted Easy Bake Oven hell. I took out a row of lights just to make the amount of light and heat manageable. Yes, I know they sell smaller, lower wattage, frosted bulbs. But that would be spending money on this thing, and my entire being rebels against it. No.

This photo shows two of my biggest peeves with this bathroom. First, the monstrously big mirror. It goes right down to the backsplash. There is no way not to get the mirror dirty washing hands or brushing teeth, even if you're a tidy adult, and I've got four not-so-tidy boys. The mirror is always gooey and disgusting.

The second is the sink itself. Because of the bathroom's narrow footprint, the counter space front to back is just a little over 16 inches. Obviously a petite-scale sink is the only thing that's going to work in that space. Whoever did this little downgrade chose a fiberglass bar sink, of the type you'd find in an RV camper. It's impossible to keep clean, and looks as cheap and tacky as you imagine that it does. The faucet has a chemical mar or etching in the finish that looks like it might be from some kind of plumbing adhesive.

The shower rod is also on its last legs. The original ceiling chain broke and I rescued it with a length of lamp chain (while running around the house wrapped in a towel with shampoo in my hair, and cussing. I'm nothing if not classy). And it also needs a wall repair. It looks like there have been several:

Readers might notice I changed the shower curtain out for a white one. It didn't really help, but whatever. 

Now that I've had my rant, I need to take stock of the things that are okay about my bathroom. I won't say like, exactly, but it does have a few points to give hope. 

The window: 

The original sash window still has its original frosted glass panes. I think they are cool. 

The overhead light fixture is also original, a ribbed glass globe shade, and I think with a good cleaning it will be just fine. 

The cabinets look to be made custom to fit the space, and the person who made them did good work (yes, I'm missing a knob). While I'm debating painting them, they are oak and not too fatally "orangey." Replacing bathroom cabinetry is an expensive proposition, and in an area where you'd need custom fitting, even more so. I consider this my greatest plus. 

It's not really a plus right now, but I think the tub will be. It is the original cast-iron tub, and I really love the art deco design on the outside. I'm not showing you the inside of the tub, because really, I think showing readers the baby poop paint was enough unpleasantness for one post. Trust me that the enamel finish is long gone. Even when I've scrubbed it with bleach and determination it doesn't look clean. In the distant future I'd like to have it re-enameled to it's former glory, probably in aqua. But it's going to have to wait. 

So what's the plan? 

A facelift that gets me to the point I can live with this bathroom until bigger investments (tile, tub enameling) can be made. It'll include a list of 10 mini-projects: 

1. Upgrade the cabinet hardware. I've never cared for wood knobs in kitchens and bathrooms, and I think something sparkly and chrome would light the place up a little. 

2. Grout the floor. You can actually grout vinyl floor tile, and I think it will give the flooring a more finished and less temporary feel. 

3. Paint. Oh, for the love of strained prunes, paint. Something clean, airy, and bright.

4. Replace the light fixture. 

5. Replace the mirror. 

6. Replace the toilet paper holder. 

7. Replace the shower curtain rod. 

8. Add art and decorative items. 

9. Replace the counter top (with the square footage being very small, this shouldn't be a top dollar expense).

10. Replace sink and faucet. 

I'm not setting a deadline for any of these, but will simply see how many I can get done this year. If I get even half way down my list, I'll be happy.