On the night of the US election, after blogging about dresses, I decided to avoid all forms of news. Though I felt fairly good about the odds, particularly from Nate Silver of FiveThirtyEight, I found I was overreacting to speculations of Romney victories. And I knew the results wouldn’t be known, for sure, until kind of late. And I was alone. I just didn’t need the solitary anxiety.
So no web, no TV, no radio for me. I just watched my new DVD of The Who Live in Texas 1975, which was awesome! Then I went to bed, knowing that my alarm, tuned to CBC Radio One, would give me the news upon awakening.
… Though in fact I had to wait, like, 5 minutes while they did traffic and weather and stuff. But then Matt Galloway read the night’s most popular tweet:
It seems apt that, even though it was through radio, I got the news via tweet, as Twitter as truly been my main source for following this election. The details were in various New York Times, Mother Jones, etc. articles. Directing me to those were tweets.
So of course, I couldn’t wait to get on and read all the ones I’d missed the night before, when I’d been in avoidance mode. It was kind of like reliving the whole thing in condensed time. Here’s a sampling.
Though I am interested in the US election, there’s nothing I can do about it, and I really have nothing to add to the huge, huge cacophony of voices on it.
So this is a politics-free post. About dresses.
This year, I decided to shop for a new Christmas dress. I’ve avoided having to do this for a number of years now, thanks to dresses acquired for other occasions (weddings) or on a whim (vacation) or so long at the back of the closet they’ve come back into style (more or less).
But this year, a new option seemed in order. It had been so long since I’d deliberately gone out dress shopping that I wasn’t sure where to go, but it turns out the web is pretty handy source for that sort of information. Chateau style was just not me, Bay just had too many options, Cleo not enough, Fairweather’s website sucks… But Laura looked good. So that is where I went.
Only… It turned out to be a factory outlet, so not too many of the dress styles I’d noted were actually available. Still, there were a lot of dresses, all neatly organized by size.
I grabbed some, tried them on, and found a pattern emerging: The dresses fit (good), didn’t look terrible (good)… But none were that great, either. I wasn’t too excited about any, and certainly couldn’t settle down to one.
But I didn’t want to have to find another store to shop in either (did I mention that though I do quite like dresses, I’m not overly fond of shopping, per se)? So back to the racks I went, picking out a few more options. I nearly ignored the sparkly, poofy prom / bridesmaids dresses, except… One sort of called to me. So what the heck. It joined the pile.
Round 2 in the dressing room went a little better, confirming that only one dress from Round 1 was really worthwhile. It fit well, flattering the figure, and had a fun color scheme. But it just didn’t seem quite dressy enough for Christmas, you know? It looked like this:
Round 2 also included this flapper-style dress in a striking royal blue, which the saleslady said was quite popular this season. It was probably the most comfortable dress I tried on. It of course has that straight style, but it didn’t look bad on me. On the hanger, it looks like this:
And then, there was the confection dress. Mauve, short, poofy, a bit sparkly… And completely adorable. Fit perfectly. Very flattering, really, as it hugged my thinner parts and poofed out over my thicker ones. Ended just above the knee, covering thigh, showing calf, all good.
I kind of loved it. But I also kind of thought I was 20 years too old to wear it.
Did I mention I was shopping alone? So except for the very busy salesladies, I had no one who could give me a second opinion here.
And at factory outlets? All sales are final. And, there aren’t multiple copies of each dress. Mostly, it was one, maybe two left. If you leave it, you might lose it.
On the other hand… At a factory outlet? Prices are way lower!
So you know how this story ends. I went shopping for one dress, and I now have three. Hey, I ballroom dance, I go to fancy restaurants… I’ll have opportunity to wear them. (You hear my justification.) Plus, all three together were less than the price of many of the new ones I was considering.
That night, I modeled them all for Jean, to see which he thought I should wear to his company Christmas party. This was his pick:
So I’m thinking… a black throw of some kind, black hose—maybe with the seam up the back, if I can find that—and a cool bracelet. Even though I find bracelets annoying.
And quite importantly: Fresh dye job on the hair. Because this is not a dress that will go well with gray roots.
Directed by Steven Soderbergh. Martha and Kyle are coworkers at a doll factory whose relationship is disrupted by a new arrival at the factory, Rose.
She says: Except for the big-name director, movies don’t get much smaller than this. (I would never even have heard of this one if not for Roger Ebert highlighting it recently.) Its stars are not actors, but locals. The story was plotted, but the dialogue was not scripted. Its a mere 73 minutes long.
These people lead very simple lives, yet its weirdly fascinating, as we just don’t see people like this in movies. They look and talk like real people. They aren’t dramatically poor (not homeless, not starving), but basically have no money, no real prospects. Their job of assembling dolls makes for some really odd images, of doll parts molded, assembled, decorated.
Martha and Kyle have a comfortable, non-romantic relationship. Rose disrupts that, creating a strange triangle. A murder occurs. Who and how that happens is the central mystery of the film.
He says: This one moves at the pace of real life… I don’t really know what to make of it.
Documentary by Sarah Polley. She explores the family secret that the man who raised her is not her biological father.
She says: Though it lags a bit toward the end, there are a surprising number of twists in this documentary about Sarah Polley’s decision to explore the truth about her parentage. She does this by interviewing everyone in her family, along with family friends, while interspersing old family footage along with dramatic re-creations of certain key events (and it was occasionally difficult to tell which was what).
It’s not all that unusual, apparently, that men end up raising children they think are their own, but aren’t. But it really struck how differently an artistic family and circle such as the Polley’s react to this, with everyone almost tripping over themselves to be the ones who get to own the narrative. And hence, Stories We Tell becomes Polley’s framework.
A bit pretentious, I guess, but as I said, mostly engaging.
He says: Well, there were parts when I was pretty bored. But it could have been worse. I’m still not totally sure what was acting and what were actual inteviews, though.
*** Looper (September 2012) – Theatre
Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Bruce Willis, Emily Blunt. Time travel is possible in the future, but illegal, so used only by criminals to commit murders—in the past. Then they “close the loop” by issuing their present-day assassins a future termination date.
She says: Violent and a bit dire, but definitely thought-provoking and engaging. I’m won over by the latter. He says: Jeez, that was grim. I still liked it—I’d recommend it—but it isn’t exactly uplifting.
The timing of our Ottawa vacation was actually determined by one Sir Bob Geldof, who was doing concerts in Eastern Canada for the first time in 9 years. Perversely, I suppose, we decided to see him play at the city farthest from our own. (But really, would you rather visit Hamilton, Oshawa… or Ottawa? Right?)
Thanks to me contacting the theatre more or less the minute tickets went on sale, we were sitting in the very centre of the very first row, which the usher declared were the “Best seats in the house!”. Certainly was nice having no blocked view of the stage whatsoever. And when Bob did stroll to the front of the stage, he was really right in front of us.
And, it wasn’t a bad vantage point for taking pictures.
Jean’s review
You know, I do bring my husband to many concerts of interest more to me. Sometimes he’s bored by them, sometimes he’s slightly mystified by them, sometimes he’s mildly entertained, and occasionally… He loves them.
At the end of this one, he had the biggest grin. His comments included:
That was really good!
He just made it so entertaining!
(I’m figuring, since he’s not the big, life-long fan, his opinion means more than mine.)
How do you think he does it? What makes him so good?
The band is large—six musicians—and highly skilled. They convey Bob’s songs extremely well.
The show, about two hours long, is very well programmed and paced. The hits interspersed amongst maybe lesser-known songs, light music to start leading to more thoughtful than to dark ones, and concluding with completely fun ones. It never lags, whether you know all the tunes or not.
Bob is a really charismatic guy, and he really gets into the songs. You can’t take your eyes off him, and there’s no way to not get caught up in his passion.
He is fascinating guy who has led (well, is leading) an incredible life. When he talks, it’s as interesting as when he sings.
Mr. Chuckles
Geldof, of course, often deals with really serious issues of world poverty and whatnot, and therefore has a reputation of being an angry, grumpy guy. And maybe he is, but he’s also really funny. And he doesn’t trot out the same old jokes each time. No, the ones we heard were definitely customized for us.
Complaints that he thought he was playing the big city of Ottawa, but instead found himself miles from nowhere, on “Little House on the Prairie”. [Centrepointe Theatre, in Nepean, kind of is in the middle of nowhere, in fact…]
Amusement that the biggest highlight of the Ottawa Market was this 900 pound pumpkin on display.
A recurring trashing of the recently visited Oshawa, a city that apparently makes even Ottawa’s “little house on the prairie” look good.
Some set highlights
Our video of Mudslide, always a favorite of mine
Hearing some Boomtown Rats songs that aren’t as famous, and that he hadn’t played on the last tour, like “When the Night Comes” and “Joey’s on the Street again”.
Getting the backstory to “Scream in Vain”, which, on record, is an odd song about yams. It had its genesis in his return to Ethiopia ten years after Live Aid, and finding lush fields where previously there was death, dust, and desert. And seeing that helped him start to get out of his own severe depression, from his wife leaving him. And then they played “Scream in Vain”, and it just came across so powerfully…
An astonishingly sexy, extended version of the lustful “Mary of Fourth Form”.
Age is just a number
Bob Geldof is 61 years old. So all these people commenting on “Oh, he looks so old, now”–well, he is old. Of course he doesn’t look 30 anymore. And, he’s just not the type to run to the Lady Clairol, so with that crazy shock of long, completely gray hair… Kind of looks like a mad professor, or something.
But his voice has lost nothing of its range and power. He can still cover that octave and a half of “I Don’t Like Mondays”, still “scream in vain” during some songs, and sing softly and gently during others. Rather nasal, it’s never been a beautiful voice, but he has sure does a lot with what he has.
He’s also very energetic during the entire show, bobbing in place at times, moving around the stage at others. He remains very lean, and apparently very fit.
And up close, with the crazy hair partly hidden under a hat, and smiling, he still looks pretty handsome.
Final tip
If you ever do go see Bob Geldof in concert—as you should, before you die—you might want to stick around after. He’s often nice enough to come out and meet with fans. Or so I hear.
Our fall trip was cut down from its usual week to a couple days (four with the weekend), but we made the most of it by leaving Friday afternoon, and staying in Ottawa until Tuesday afternoon. On both trips, we stopped for dinner in the Toronto-ish area around rush hour time, thereby successfully avoiding traffic tie-ups. The worst we experienced was just trying to get out of Kitchener Friday afternoon!
In Ottawa, we did our usuals of enjoying some of the city’s finer restaurants, visiting museums, walking around the parks, and shopping in the Market and other areas. But two things made this year’s trip specially special. The first was that we followed up on an idea from last year’s high school reunion and met up with friends there! And that was a total hoot.
The second I’ll get back to later.
When we first arrived in Ottawa, it was just the two of us for lunch. We were staying in a hotel right by the Market, so that’s where we headed. Jean recalled that we had really enjoyed Play Food and Wine last time we were in Ottawa, so we found that place again. They offer small plates, each optionally matched with a 3 or 6 oz glass of wine—two things we love (the small plates and the wine matching, that is).
I started with a nice pumpkin salad with goat cheese and cinnamon tempura (!), served with a really good red blend from Organized Crime winery (want to seek that wine out), while Jean had excellent seared trout, served with a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. My next course, pictured, was pasta with littleneck clams, served with a Gruner Veltliner (from Austria, of course). Jean had the gnochi served with sage and mushrooms, accompanied by a New Zealond Pinot Noir (Appleby Lane).
And we finished by sharing a cheese plate, me with a French muscat, while Jean had an Ontario late harvest. Everything was very good. We sat upstairs this time, and still found the atmosphere quite nice, with good service.
It had been sunny when we arrived, but started to cloud over in the afternoon. It was still pretty nice, though, so we walked around, and Jean took some photos.
Long view of ParliamentOutside the War MuseumCity art
That night, for dinner, was our first occasion for meeting up with friends. Sylvie and Paul had driven up from Timmins that day. They had suggested we try Sidedoor. Saturday ended up being the only night that worked for that, and we couldn’t get reservations until 8:30 pm!
This turned out to be another “small plate” kind of place, but not with wine matching this time. We ordered a variety of items for sharing: fried tofu with veggies, buttered lobster tacos, tuna sashimi, sockeye salmon seviche with coconut, shrimp dumplings, pan-roasted duck, chicken in chili sauce. And steamed rice. We went with a bottle of Spanish tempranillo for the lot, and that worked pretty well.
Not sure what the drunken angle is about, but does indicate the variety of dishes being shared…
The food was, in general, very nice. Sylvie and Paul voted for the salmon and tofu as their faves; Jean and I were more inclined to the tuna and dumplings. But it was all worth eating. We didn’t order dessert, but we did all have ports to finish.
The place was… lively. It was reasonably sedate when we first arrived, but not long after, an entire wedding party showed up, and in no time, every seat in the place was filled. Mostly with people younger than us, which tends to be unusual, for your higher-end dining places. It made for conversation at our table a bit challenging; I had to fill Jean in after on some of the items Sylvie and I had discussed.
Sunday started out drizzly and was predicted to just get more rainy, so we decided this would be a good day to use our pre-purchased tickets to the Museum of Civilization. Jean had been there before, and I thought I had as well, but I soon concluded it was my first visit. It was quite interesting, especially the Canada Pavilion, where you are really immersed into Canadian history, east to west, old to new.
Part of the Native display at the museum (and cool photo)
We had lunch at the museum, and that was pretty good. I convinced Jean that a one-course lunch would suffice; I had fish, he had duck, with the matching wines (where available). And we concluded with cappuccino.
Though we had considered walking to the museum, we finally chose to drive. This proved a good decision as it was raining harder by the time we were ready to leave. So we took the car to some more distant driving locations, such as MEC, and did some shopping there before returning to the hotel.
Dinner that night was at Murray Street. We were meeting with Sylvie and Paul again, but also with MJ and Michel. (We were also supposed to meet with Jacinthe, but she had to back out due to a badly timed asthma flare up.) Where we had seen Sylvie and Paul semi-regularly over the years, this was our first extended visit with MJ and Michel in a long time. We had a great evening! Though a pretty casual spot, the sound level at Murray Street made conversation much easier than at Sidedoor, and there was much merriment over our plates and individual glasses of wine or beer.
We’re back to drunken angles…
Despite the one-course lunch, given that Murray Street has pretty hearty food, I decided to go with two appetizers as my meal: A Po Boy of fried oysters (don’t always like cooked oysters, but these worked), with a sparkling Ontario wine; and a B, B, and J: Beets, butter and… I don’t know what the J is, actually, but it came with fried cheese. I had a red with that. Jean had an appetizer—I don’t remember what—then, as shown in the photo foreground, the duck leg confit with lentils.
I was the only one with room left enough for dessert, which was a take-off on s’mores, with graham, chocolate mousse, and marshmallow. Very good! And, most of us had port to finish. (Apparently Jean and I are quite the port pushers.)
Monday cleared up some again. We were meeting Sylvie and Paul for lunch, so we did some walking in the morning, and Jean got a few more photos.
The Unknown Soldier
Lunch was at Whalesbone, on Bank. It is a seafood place in general, but especially known for oysters. It’s small, with a really cool, casual atmosphere. A good place for our final “with friends” meal.
We’d had breakfast at Dunn’s Deli again, where it’s hard to get a really small breakfast, so we weren’t starved for our 12 noon lunch. Jean decided to have just the 18 oysters, but with willingness to share with me. I went for the Nicoise salad, which Jean also helped me with. We had a half liter of a white wine he recommend, that was really good with oysters—but I can’t remember what it was. But I do remember there were three types of oysters, one from BC (the biggest and meatiest; our favorite) and two types from the East Coast. They also had a variety of dipping sauces available, including Scotch! (We still don’t like Scotch.)
The coolest picture of oysters ever!
The salad Nicoise was also very nice. Paul had that as well. Sylvie went for the fish and chips, and reported that was good. Certainly looked like it.
Monday afternoon we did a bit more Market-ing. We had an early, fairly light (and wine-less!) dinner at a Thai restaurant across from Murray Street that was perfectly fine.
And then we were off to the Bob Geldof concert. Which was the second thing that made this trip special. But I’ll report on that part separately.
Sandra Bullock, Quinton Aaron. A homeless teenager’s life is transformed through his relationship with the well-to-do family that takes him in.
She says: I didn’t get much from the football scenes—almost remarkable how little I know about that game—but I otherwise found myself quite taken in by this story of (basically) class and race differences in America, and how harmony was achieved in this one case (based on a true story).
He says: Except that it kept trying to make you cry every two minutes, that was a good movie. It was interesting story, and Sandra Bullock was great in it.
Apparently it’s quite weird that I want to go see Bob Geldof in concert. (For the third time, no less.) People seem to find it as strange as if I said–I don’t know–that I had tickets to see Bill Clinton. Play saxophone.
In that, it’s not as if Bob Geldof isn’t famous. He’s the Live Aid guy; the one who gets interviewed about African issues; who is an occasional guest editor of national newspapers; who won the knighthood decades before Paul McCartney, Elton John, Bono, and Mick Jagger did; and who is the father of all those girls with weird names (Pixie, Fifi, Tigerlilly, Peaches…).
It’s just that he’s no longer thought of as a musician.
A friend of mine kind of summed up what the world thinks: “Really interesting guy. But I don’t like his music.”
To which I say, Oh, really?
Because it appears to me that most North Americans know exactly two Bob Geldof songs:
I Don’t Like Mondays
Do They Know It’s Christmas?
And that they love both of them. One is the prototypical 1980s song; the other one the prototypical pop Christmas song. When Electric Thursdays does 80s music; “Mondays” is the big encore everybody is thrilled about. At their Christmas concert? Yes, the Band Aid song gains the standing ovation at the end.
I heard this song first via this video–on TV Ontario, of all things
But people have no idea what else Bob Geldof has done (musically).
So this is how I became a fan.
I stuck with The Boomtown Rats longer than most
This seems largely forgotten now, but everywhere except the US (where, thanks to “Mondays” getting banned, the Rats weren’t even a one-hit wonder), the Boomtown Rats were a very popular band in their time. They spent 123 weeks on the UK charts, including two songs at number one (the other being “Rat Trap”). In Canada, they played hockey arenas, and appeared on SCTV.
I became a fan of the Rats the same way everyone else did—after I heard “I Don’t Like Mondays”. It’s just that I stuck with them longer than most. I was not deterred by the “world music” sounds of MondoBongo (the album after the “Mondays” one), nor the dark themes permeating the amazing V Deep, VI Shallow. Judging by sales figures, others were a little put off by this. But I remained a fan to the end (that being the sixth and last album, In the Long Grass.)
One of my favorite songs from V Deep VI Shallow: Talking in Code, live
I saw Bob Geldof live
Bob’s first solo album, Deep in the Heart of Nowhere, in wake of Live Aid and all, was something of a success, with the hit single, “This Is the World Calling”. I got that at the time (my favorite song was “Pulled Apart by Horses”), but honestly, like most people, I then lost track of his musical career. “The Great Song of Indifference” was a big hit most places, but Canada followed the States in ignoring it.
A live version of The Great Song of Indifference
So when I went see him in concert in 2002, it was mostly due to Boomtown Rats nostalgia. And he did a reasonable sampling of those tunes, but also quite a few from the solos albums I had missed, and therefore didn’t know: the Irish jig-infused Vegetarians of Love and The Happy Club.
The fun My Hippie Angel, from The Happy Club
But no matter: I loved the show. As I wrote at the time, it was–and remains–one the best I’ve ever seen.
I bought all his solo albums
After that show, I picked up the two albums I’d missed, and I listened more to the one I’d picked up shortly before the show: Sex, Age, and Death. It would prove to become one of my favorite albums by anyone, ever.
One for Me by Bob Geldof, clearly inspired by now late but then merely former Mrs. Geldof, Paula Yates
And when his new one, the hilariously titled How to Compose Popular Songs That Will Sell came out last year, I bought that. It’s quite varied in style, but consistent in high quality.
Why I’m fan
It’s pretty simple, really. I’m a fan of music of Bob Geldof’s music because I listen to it.
You are not a fan only because you do not listen to it. It is not played on radio, it is no longer a big hit, you have seek it out.
If more people listened to it, more would like it. Not everyone, obviously, but more. His tunes are catchy. They have intelligent lyrics. His band is fantastic. There’s plenty to like. (And Ontarians, please note: You have an exceedingly rare opportunity this week and next week to see him play live, in Hamilton, St. Catharines, Oshawa, Ottawa, and Brockville. They’re small venues, not expensive, and if it’s anything like the two shows of his I’ve seen, you won’t regret it.)
Closing out with Bob’s life in song, in the amusing hidden track from his latest album, Young and Sober. “In the year of 75, that’s when I sang myself alive.”
Not sure what was going on, but everybody and their brother seemed to be in the small town of Elora last weekend. We were there to take part in the Culinary Walking Tour, which itself seemed to have been overbooked with 19 people. During the $15 tour, you visit 7 food-related establishments for samplings, and get some history of Elora and its buildings on the way.
Greeted by the Elora town crier
Each establishment our large group went to this day, however, seemed to be run off its feet by higher paying customers, making it difficult for them to give the tour group the normal amount of attention. This, despite the tour taking place from 2 to 4, so not exactly at peak dining hours.
Nevertheless, it was pretty enjoyable. It was a beautiful day, and we got to learn about a number of establishments we weren’t previous familiar with. This was the run down:
Olive oil and vinegar tasting at the Village Olive Grove. This was one we were quite familiar with, having twice before done tastings here. Still, it was good, with both the olive oil and vinegar (which you taste via sugar cube) being impressive, and this particular host not phased by the large group or the busyness of his shop.
Macaroons at the Mill Street Bakery and Bistro, another place we’ve actually eaten before. Macaroons were tasty, but we had to eat them standing up in the lobby while getting an abbreviated history of the building.
Bocconcini salad at the Cellar Pub and Grill. We had to wait outside here a while before they were ready for us, but that did give us time to admire their fantastic patio we’d never before noticed. The usual host for the tour was away, so the bartender did his best to introduce the place. The salad was fine, but again, we didn’t get to sit, and no one seemed to think to tell us about their menu.
E&G Fine Pastry and Cake was one place that wasn’t crowded with people, and it was a really interesting shop, full of occult books and medieval supplies along with delicious pastries. The owners didn’t say much–I don’t think English was their first language–but the mocha cake was very good.
Cork was full, so we sat out their outdoor patio. The hostess and chef still tried to give a good overview of the place as we eat a sampling of grilled salmon with side vegetable. This was on the one that intrigued us the most—more on it later (plus photo below).
At the Shepherd’s Pub, we got a small glass of MacLeans micro-brewed beer (not that they said that’s what it was, but that”s what the website says). As beer goes, it was fine, and the place seemed like your typical pub.
Finally, they managed to squeeze us in at tables Cafe Creperie and talk about that place while we sampled a piece of smoked salmon, roasted tomato, and apple crepe. They were all really good; I would recommend this place if you were in those parts and in the mood for crepes.
Our tour group was from various parts of Ontario—Toronto, London, northern Ontario—further afield than I’d expected. (I somehow thought everyone would be semi-local, like us.) And there were a couple there from Australia!
In anticipation of this, we’d skipped lunch, which maybe wasn’t the best idea, because then all the samplings seemed too small. We were actually thinking of going out for a meal by the end. But we finally nixed that idea, instead heading and just having an earlier dinner.
So in retrospect, the better idea would have been snacking before the tour. (A whole lunch might have been sampling everything difficult.)
The exterior of Cork
This weekend Jean invited me back to Elora, where he wanted to take some pictures, then try lunch at Cork. Elora was back to its sleepy self yesterday, with just the normal number of tourists milling about. Jean wasn’t super pleased with the results of his photography (his own assessment, not mine), but post some shots anyway.
Elora Mill
Cool look of the water here
Ontario autumn
And, we had lunch at Cork. We tried three samplers: a brie and pear flat bread (hard to go wrong with that, and they didn’t); scallops with smoky bacon and crip chips (nice combo, big scallops); and gnocchi in cream-based sauce with cheese (very rich, but great texture on the pasta). We had that with a half-litre of unoakced Chardonnay.
On this calmer day in Elora, we spoke to the hostess and got a better overview of their offerings, which include:
Half-price bottles of wine on Tuesday
All-you-can-eat tapas on Wednesday (Uptown 21 style, they will just keep bringing items until you declare yourself full)
$2 oysters on Thursday, with a minimum of 2 kinds on offer
Live jazz on Saturday
Something beef-related on Sunday (for those of you still eating beef. She did mention it was Ontario, not Alberta, beef)
It’s been nearly a week since the new flooring was installed. The house is not all put back together yet (much remains to be “unpacked”), but it’s quite serviceable now, and we’re pleased with the results so far. The stress level in the household has gone down ten notches.
The most surprising thing was what a big difference the hardwood in the hallway makes. This was more of an aside to the whole thing–hey, why not also have these guys install that hardwood we bought for the hallway years, that’s been sitting under a bed ever since–but they did a great job, and the hallway really looks fantastic.
(Which you can’t probably tell that well from this mediocre picture taken by me with my phone. Maybe a better one by Jean will get substituted eventually.)
Almost worth the glue smell we’re still trying to dissipate!
The focus was actually on the downstairs, a now much emptier room–and not only because we haven’t unpacked everything yet. The extra floor space was a deliberate attempt to create a new exercise space for me (and Jean), by moving the main computer and accessories, the big desk, and the file cabinet upstairs to the former exercise room. (Which I hadn’t been using as such in months, since the DVD in there died.)
Here is an even worse (blurry!) phone picture of the a corner of our emptier downstairs, with its new (less glamorous than hardwood, but functional) flooring–including some leftover pieces:
What you can’t see on the other side of the treadmill is my big weight machine. And yes, there is still a computer in that room–the secondary one.
It’s a big room, so the other half remains a TV area, with couches, fireplace, and media storage. Even when unpacked, that part is going to look unfinished until we get the new TV purchased and mounted above the fireplace. (Maybe a Christmas prsesent?) And add some more shelving. And, OK, get the fireplace area finished with a stone overlay.
*** 
Sandra Bullock, Quinton Aaron. A homeless teenager’s life is transformed through his relationship with the well-to-do family that takes him in.
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