So recently the Super A-List Blogger of All Time remodeled her bathroom and blogged about it. Usually I’m not a fan. Without kids, I have limited interest in mommy bloggers. Especially a mommy blogger who earns a six figure income from blogging, has a house husband available 24/7 to help with all things, one kid in pre-school half the day, but still keeps throwing up posts about how she’s just barely holding on by a thread. The mommies I know either have jobs, or multiple kids, husbands that work long hours full time, a fraction of her income and still manage to do, as the Red Queen said, “six impossible things before breakfast.”
But recently I skipped over to her site and stayed to read about the remodel. Ha! Remodel Smeemodel. As far as I can tell, they took out the old vanity, tiled about a 2 foot by 4 foot bit of floor, slapped in an Ikea vanity and got a new rug. You wanna see a remodel? You’ve got to see an Andy remodel. Start with a San Francisco Victorian that has been through more than a 100 years of earthquakes, so nothing is square, plumb or sound. Then turn Andy loose to slam through a wall with a sledgehammer on a whim because he’s decided he’d like to build a recreation of an English Pub or a wine celler or a media room. Then be aware that these incidents usually take place two weeks before visitors arrive or you have to leave for a trip. In the twenty years we’ve lived here, we’ve probably rebuilt every corner of this house three times over. Now we live in a place so eccentric, we call it Winchester Mystery House North. And we’re trying to do it all again on a grander scale in Sonoma. With bobcats, coyotes and Mountain Lions.
So back to Dooce. Her little bathroom facelift post got more than 400 impassioned comments. FOUR HUNDRED! And that was before she closed comments. Seems the Interwebs care deeply, deeply I tell you, about what Dooce and Jon do to their bathroom. The passion. The debates. The online world, apparently, is divided into two and only two groups: those who LOOOOOOOVE the remodel and those who don’t (and are roundly screamed down as “Haters” by the Dooce-Groupies.)
Am I jealous? Hell, yeah! Where are my comments? I’m serving up mouse-tinged winemaking, Rube Goldberg wine processing systems, adventures in the wacky world of almost biodynamic farming, cowboy decorating. Then there is the great artisan team, wonderful eccentric characters like Pasha the Mad Ukranian and John the Baptist. And I get a half a dozen comments at best? Where are my Haters?
C’mon. Bring it on. Tell me I’m doing it all wrong. Divide yourself into two armed camps and shout at each other in my comments fields. Show some passion. Gotta life? Well, lose it and get all involved at Left Coast Cowboys. I’m not asking for much. I’m not looking for Dooce-like blog revenue. But I would like my Google Adsense money to keep me in coffee. Currently I can’t cover the occasional mocha. Even with the 5¢ discount for bringing my own cup.
What do I have to do here? Is it the kid? Okay, I’ll get a kid. My God Daughter, who is currently The Most Beautiful Baby in the World, appears here with some regularity. I’ll bring her front and center stage if that’s what it takes. I’m shameless that way.
Here it is, a completely gratuitous shot of an adorable kid. (Photograph courtesy of her mom.)