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Ever manage to inadvertently start following a healthy eating pattern?

This weekend, I realized that I’ve established two useful food guidelines over the past few years: I don’t eat in the car, and I don’t eat in front of the TV.

Both situations came about entirely by accident.

I purchased a car with a manual transmission six years ago, meaning that the “extra” hand required to eat while driving is only accessible when cruising speed has been reached on the interstate. City driving does not free up this hand. As a bonus, the car’s tiny cupholders are a marvel of engineering; the two up front are too small for anything but a 12-ounce soda can, and the larger one between the buckets seats requires the flexibility of a Cirque performer to reach.

The living room embargo is a bit more complicated. As we watched the floodwaters of Hurricane Katrina approach our home in Mobile in 2005, we grabbed our table from the dining room and flipped it onto the bed in hopes of keeping it dry. We ended up with only the back third of the house flooded, but the teardown, rewiring, rebuilding, re-everything meant that the table was taken apart and stored in the bedroom closet for the better part of two years.

What I discovered during this time was that no matter your intentions, eating dinner in the living room off of the coffee table pretty much ensures that you WILL turn the TV on. It’s just what happens. And once the TV is on, conversation is off.

The first thing I set up upon arrival in Huntsville, therefore, was the table. There have been no dinners in front of Smallville, no breakfasts in front of The Soup. Just talking, newspaper-reading, and, occasionally, a subtle Pandora soundtrack.

Not eating dinner in the living room leads to not eating much of anything in the living room except for the rare bowl of movie popcorn. Nobody heads to the kitchen and grabs a bag of chips to mindlessly munch on; nobody sits down with a sleeve of cookies to polish off.

Focused eating is more likely to be healthy eating, and dining without distraction makes for much better family time. And you don’t have to buy a manual transmission or wait for a flood: Declare the driver’s seat off limits for noshing, and insist that nothing crosses the dining room border but popcorn. In both cases, your seat cushions and your waistline will thank you.

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Buying cookware is the final stage of entry to adulthood, right?

I am SO there.

I’ve been using the cookware pictured here for about 16 years. Liberated from the home of my dearly departed paternal grandmother, it’s likely older than I am. Wear and tear wasn’t really a problem, however, since she hardly ever cooked much more than a can of chicken noodle soup.

It was some kind of enamelware, with hints of an Australian origin. I was always sort of vaguely aware that I should buy something “real,” since who knows what that stuff was coated with.

One of the larger pots developed a small dark spot on the bottom in the late ’90s. While boiling water one day, I watched the spot rise to the surface, followed by a powdery, brownish red cloud. It seemed to have rusted through from the inside out.

Other than that incident, it was incredibly durable. The only reason I had to get rid of it was because of another very grownup purchase my husband and I made recently: a new stove.

It’s a stainless steel model with a ceramic cooktop that, in theory, will make the kitchen sleek and sporty once we’ve replaced everything else that makes the kitchen non-sleek and frumpy.

The only caveat: The safest way to use the ceramic cooktop is not to use it at all.

It is the drama queen of cooking surfaces. No enamel. No cast iron. No aluminum. Only the flattest of flat-bottomed cookware will do. No hint of moisture on the outside of the vessel. If you spill anything with sugar in it on the cooktop, immediately turn the stove off, call a priest and get him to pray that you can remove the spill before it makes a pit on the surface.

I kid. Sort of. It’s actually a really reliable cooktop, once you get used to it, and the oven is the most accurate model I’ve ever used. And it does make one end of the kitchen look very sporty.

I think I’m even burning extra calories, because cooking without the fear of instantaneously destroying your cooktop doesn’t produce any adrenaline at all.

It might all be hype. Several people have told me that they use anything and everything on their ceramic cooktops. But older enamelware seems to be a consistent no-no – the surface coating has every possibility of actually melting onto the cooktop.

So we bought a set of stainless steel, the only “sure thing” to use. I was pleasantly surprised by the price; my husband found a five-piece set of Tramontina, recommended by Cook’s Illustrated, for around $150 at Wal-Mart, a real bargain compared to most of the luxury brands.

I’ve got no complaints about it. Best of all, some lucky thrift-store scavenger is going to get a few more years of use out of my grandmotherly enamelware. Just beware the small dark spot on the bottom.

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Too late for a New Year’s resolution? Fine. I sort of started this one in November, anyway.

I’m tired of disposable bags. I have a few of those hip reusable “green” bags that I do my best to keep in the car and use, but I don’t always want to or remember to drag them around with me. What I am aiming for is to reassess how I transport purchases and take some responsibility for decreasing the distribution of single-use bags.

I realize that some bags double as marketing. You can’t walk around Bridge Street without seeing a half dozen women and teens/tweens toting those distinctive pink Victoria’s Secret bags. The statement: I buy underwear. It may be risque. Or cotton.

Several weeks ago, I took a post-Gap trip to Victoria’s Secret. On a whim, I told the cashier that I would just put my purchases in the Gap bag. She hesitated, holding my undies over the pink tissue paper that is also part of the Secret overpackaging, so I gently took them from her and put them in the first bag. Still not really happy with myself for having a plastic bag for one pair of jeans, but I’m making one change at a time.

My next move is to stop accepting bags for small purchases. I was fast enough to stop the Pier 1 guy from giving me a plastic bag for five easy-to-carry chocolate bars (fancy, on clearance) this week, but I wasn’t quick enough to keep the used bookstore lady from putting two paperbacks in an oversized plastic bag. I’ve learned that if you tell cashiers you don’t need a bag AFTER they’ve already put your purchases in one, most will remove your items from the bag and throw it away. (I won’t insist that this action is taken out of spite, but it would be if I did it.)

I can’t change the world, but I can change how I treat it, even if it’s just the smallest of actions.

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This is the most complicated Christmas display that I’ve dared to put up since obtaining two rambunctious cats 13 years ago.

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You’re the manager of a big-box home improvement store and the economy’s hit bottom. Do you cut employee hours across the board, so much so that potential customers can find no one to take their money?

It looks like you do.

I spent 20 minutes in the appliances section of a huge home improvement store yesterday, waiting with another lady who kept pressing the “please come sell me something” button to no avail. I had the exact make and model of the appliance I wanted in hand, on a printout given to me a few weeks earlier by one of the store’s employees. All I needed was for someone to order the appliance and charge a large amount of money to my credit card.

But no. The section of the store in which NOTHING is priced UNDER $500 and most everything is priced OVER $1200 was completely unstaffed on a Sunday afternoon.

What’s funny is that the OTHER big-box home improvement store had already pulled a similar stunt with me and my remodeling dollars several weeks before.

I’m not begging anybody to take my money. If showing up is half the battle, you guys LOSE.

What a boon for the local mom-and-pop stores that have survived the competition. I bet bad customer service experiences get more people through their doors than anything else.

Every appliance in my kitchen is going to have to be replaced in the next couple of years. It’s very handy to have a list of the stores that don’t really want to sell me anything.

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I’ve toured a couple dozen brand new bathrooms over the past couple of weeks. The Huntsville/Madison County Builders Association’s Parade of Homes gives renovating rubberneckers carte blanche to take a look at the latest and greatest in home design and decor, without that awkward “We’re not really looking to buy a house” moment that invariably occurs during the average Sunday open house.

I currently have a deconstructed master bathroom awaiting further action, so I need inspiration. If only beige inspired me, I’d be in business.

tile4

The color: Every Bathroom in Town Beige. Nice tiles, and excellent installation, but so incredibly beige.

There seems to be an “offend no one” movement in the home decor business, with beige being the No. 1 non-offending element. I’ve never purchased a brand new house, so I’ve never had the opportunity to turn up my nose at walls that are just the wrong hue of olive, or kitchen cabinets that are too shiny. With any house over, say, 10 years old, you’re pretty sure you’re going to be redecorating anyway.

Which brings me to the tile dilemma.

I like color. Lots and lots of color. Tile is reasonably permanent – it’s not like paint, which can and should be changed on a whim. So I stand the chance of picking out something that will offend the delicate sensibilities of some beige-loving potential buyer down the road.

But in the end, how much of my decor should be dictated by some imaginary future buyer, especially when I have no idea how long I’ll be living in this house? Do I have to live with beige because it’ll make it easy to sell the house in three years? Five? Ten?

I’m looking at glass tiles now. They shimmer in the light, and the color spectrum is endless. I found two bathrooms on the tour that featured some fantastic examples of glass tile use.

tile 2

Still working the beige tiles, but a glass-tile design in the middle really gives it some flair.

tile1

These blue circular tiles are more vibrant than they appear in this photograph.

There are plumbing and window-installation problems to be solved before I have to worry about the final tile decision, so I have plenty of time to stew over it. It’s going to be one heck of a shower when it’s all done, whatever the final color scheme turns out to be.

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plumbingIt’s just not proper homeownership without holes in the floor and exposed plumbing.

Like zombies, renovation projects take on a life of their own.

Window leak + crappy bathtub = tear out the tub to fix leak. We were going to replace it anyway.

Ah, but the floor tiles should go down first to line up properly with the base of the new supershower. And if we’re picking out tile for the floor AND the shower, shouldn’t we be thinking about what the new countertop is going to be made of? And if we’re getting new countertops, we’ll have to have the cabinets refinished.

What? We’re not sure we have cabinet refinishing in the budget anymore?

HGTV, you magnificent bastard. We’re going to have a proper chat one day.

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bricks

So what the real estate agent doesn’t point out when you’re buying a two-story house is the blatantly obvious: The second story is awfully far from the ground. Far as in go buy a 32-foot ladder far.

Luckily, the husband and I aren’t afraid of heights (these kind of heights, anyway), so we were able to caulk a leaky bathroom window this weekend. Tragically, it doesn’t seem to have been the leak we were looking for. To find that one, it looks like we’ll have to remove the bathtub from the master bath a few months earlier than planned.

The American Dream: It involves more drywall dust, cursing and soldering than you think.

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Looks like real Dementor weather

Mother Nature can be such a drama queen.

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