About Me

I’m Louise. Blogger. Wife. Designer of TruLu Couture Veils + Accessories.  If you’d like to know more, check out my bio.

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It’s Not Buyers Remorse

It’s not.

But I feel like we are so far in over our heads.

The electrical is done. The finished that today. I can talk about it now. The electrical? The house was up to code,  circa 1964 when the house was built. Now? Not so much up to code. So we negotiated a tough deal and now we don’t have to worry about our house burning down in an eye-flash.

The painter is coming on Thursday, as is the granite guy. And I have a dentist appointment. The floor guy is coming on August 1st and the laundry room/half bath smells like piss.


I nearly killed myself with Killz, a super-toxic kind of paint that kills smells.  You’re supposed to use those ventilation masks things, that I totally did not use. And thanks be to The Candyman, I didn’t kill myself trying to determine WHERE EXACTLY THE SMELL OF PISS IS COMING FROM AND WHY DID I TOTALLY NOT SMELL IT BEFORE????

I actually think it’s an ammonia spill on old wood that is the piss-like smell.

So can I say that this is NO Young House Love. We have NO IDEA what we’re doing.

I mean, it took THREE TRIPS TO LOWES to get our paint decisions right.


That’s SIX different color paints there. Seven if you count the trim color. The lightest one closest to the light switch is the color choice for most of the house. The dining room and living room will be a light grey.

This week we’ve pulled all the registers and switch plates off the walls. Interesting, to say the least. Some of the intake registers clearly show their age – 48 years of dust came out along with the painted-on vents.

We’ve pulled out a shit-ton of spider flowers from all around the house. They are beautiful. Look it:


However, these little beauties smell like skunk. No kidding. And they are prolific in their seeding.

I’m so worried about it all. The list is endless and the funds most certainly are not. My mom gave me some good advise today – to make lists of everything we want to do and prioritize and to keep the list a running one – that priorities change and morph. Right now, the details are killing me. The registers and light plates and bathroom mirrors and light fixtures and ceiling fans and how do I keep grout clean?

Lions and tigers and bears.

Oh my.


Never, Ever A Fruit Basket.

So as soon as the fat lady sings? Then? Then I’ll be able to breathe.

There is an electrical deal. There is a granite deal. There is a closing date FOUR DAYS away.

I swear, me and The Candyman might fucking implode upon ourselves if this isn’t wrapped up like, STAT. We are both wound tighter than drums and we don’t work very well when we’re BOTH neurotic. We need to take turns at being crazy. One week on, one week off. You know what I’m talking about, right?


So we’re being uber-careful at managing the tension right now. The Candyman snapped at me this morning for  some minor Lula-flaw. Did y’all know he calls me Lula? Anyway, Mr. Grumpasaurus Rex shows up and gets all fussy. But, he called as soon as he got to work and apologized. See? Management. I lost my cool on Friday and caused all sorts of trouble ( long story involving a crazy and/or drunk tailgating motorcyclist, my middle finger and a very tense situation in the middle of an intersection. Oh yes. Shit could have happened. WHAT?). I don’t think I could have said I’m sorry enough times.  We’re managing as best we can.

Maybe me not so much….

BUT, that’s not what I wanted to write about! I wanted to write about great gifts. My realtor is going to need one. And she’s a woman after my own heart: single, late thirties, accomplished, cool, in great shape and did I mention single? She’s been working her butt off for us on this house deal and I want to get her a gift to say thank you.

But I don’t know her that well.

She loves dogs and yoga. She’s redoing her 1960’s house on her own. She knows so much about houses and construction and can speak halting Spanish to Pilo, the painter and work us a fantastic deal. She’s getting us a deal on our hardwood floors and our granite too. Cuz she knows some guys. Her electrician was at The House today. At no charge to us. Cuz that’s how she rolls.

I’m thinking a great bottle of wine. Or a massage at a nice spa. Or a yoga certificate. How do you buy nice gifts for people you don’t really know. I mean, maybe she likes beer. Maybe she doesn’t like strangers giving her deep tissues a rub. I’ll bet she already has a yoga membership.

I looked on-line at “great realtor gifts.” Fruit baskets? Really? They had other really lame suggestions. Except for one.

Referrals. Molly Zahn, Realtor.


I Knew It….

I knew I’d fuck something up by writing my last post.

We are SIX DAYS away from closing.



So why, pray tell, are we still dealing with the fucking electrician?

The main feed of electricity into the house is not up to code with current standards. It’s not even up to code with standards changed over 20 years ago. It was a deal breaker on the Fix It List. We TOLD them that. They agreed. They SIGNED the Fix It List contract.

So the sellers brought in an electrician (on FRIDAY, more than a week after they received the Fix It List) who looked at it and said the current set up was grandfathered in.

Um. We didn’t ask you to tell us whether it was grandfathered in or not. We know it’s grandfathered in. We also know that you’ve got a gazillion volt source of electricity running under the floor boards of the house that was built in 1964. Basically, the fuse box isn’t supposed to be more than three feet away from the meter and it’s like practically in another state, it’s so far away.

We asked them to bring it up to code – that is was a deal breaker. And now they’re balking.

Actually, my money says it’s actually the realtor of the sellers being a total tool. I heard that she’s lost two other sales in the last week and if the bitch keeps playing stinky realty, she’s going to lose a third.

And we’re STILL arguing over granite.

And it shouldn’t even be an effing discussion.

In a nutshell, we’re losing our minds, me and The Candyman. And we’re waiting by the phone for updates.

I’m trying to numb my mind by watching Saturday afternoon reruns of Million Dollar Listing on BRAVO. I’m about to open a bottle of wine.

Buying a house shouldn’t be this annoying.


A Goose-Neck Couch

What happens when…..

What happens when you’re on the precipice of all of it?

The Candyman and I have been in the process of buying a house. Have any of you done this since the ‘crash?’ I bought my first house in 2005. They checked my credit score. I had to offer up my social security number, some bank account numbers. No biggie.

Now? NOW? My loan application was 47 pages. And they still need more information; copies of banks statements, a letter explaining my period of unemployment, copies of our taxes for the last two years, 401K investment documentation. Holy Christ, I feel like I need to offer up my ovaries in a goddamn Petri dish. I feel slightly invaded.

But we’re approved. It’s all good and the house is under contract. We had the inspection and there was some stuff. Serious stuff. And we worried. But the ‘fix it’ list was accepted and we’re supposed to close in 13 days.


And believe me when I tell you that I’ll be sharing the shit out of the house when all is said and done, but right now, I’m hard-core rockin’ the karma vibe.

Like, if I share all my excitement about the possibilities of this house, we won’t get it. The loan will flop. The sellers will decide not to retire. I will for sure jinx it. In fact, typing these words could be the very thing that destroys the whole deal.

Yes, it feels exactly like that.

But then, there’s this whole other part of buying this house that we need to move forward with, assuming the whole thing goes exactly as planned. These other things include choosing granite, sinks, wall colors, trim colors, hardwood floor colors.

Holy shit. Do you know how many kinds and colors of granite there are? Do you knowhow expensive some of it is? Again, I say: Holy shit.

But it’s fun. The Candyman and I both like the Sesame Gold. We both like it with paint color Almond Oil. And we haven’t even seen any floor color samples. What kind of grain will that be? Toasted Brazilian Nut? Oaked Walnut? Oh, the color possibilities of wheats, whey and nuts!

Light fixtures. Mirrors. Plumbers, painters, electricians.

Mi pintor habla español y sólo hablan Inglés.

It’s terrifying. And exciting. We’re standing on the edge of getting a huge chunk of what we want out of life. This house checks off several little  boxes on the “life fantasy”  list of T30SB and The Candyman.

I know that a house is a house is a house and it’s not the answer or the dream. However, when things go well in life, it’s hard not to go in that dreamy direction.

So we’re standing on the edge of this precipice, The Candyman and I. I feel  like we’re on the edge of a ravine, digging our heels into the sliding dirt and rocks. We’re holding hands, about to push off together. I know we’ll make it across. We may land unscathed. I think we might both land a bit splayed and dusty. But we’ll land and climb together. It’ll be fun.

Or we might kill each other in the process. We’ll see.


This couch may or may not have anything to do with things that may or may not be having to do with a house we may or may not be purchasing. Imagine it in a crushed dove-gray velvet. Can you see it? I can.


{Vintage Advice} Save Yourself The Thirty Bucks

I'm pulling out some of my archived goodies. They are sure to be chock full o' snark and perhaps a little good advice. I stand by this post, over two years after the fact!


You know,  if I had researched this particular aspect of getting married as I did say, my wedding shoes or our centerpieces, I could have saved myself some time, energy and thirty bucks.

While I never really thought that I would ever get married, there was one thing for sure that I always imagined and that was changing my last name. I have never been a big fan of it. I'm sure this might shock my family members who share that same last name, but I've never really liked it. I don't like the letter it starts with. Never really have. I dont' like words that start with that letter, in general. Yes, I'm an alphabet bigot.  My maiden name rhymes with words that as a kid were tortuous at times, and as a teenager - even worse. Combine the rhyming thing with the fact that I go by my middle name (it is such a Southern thing) combined with the fact that my Dad was a Marine and we moved ALL THE DAMN TIME, explaining exactly who I was, was a total pain in the ass.

All that being said, I wasn't about to hyphenate, so knew I had to change it. If I knew now what I didn't know then, I'd kinda re-think changing my name at all. WHAT A TOTAL PAIN IN THE ASS. It might be easier if I was a 20-nothing with only a credit card and a driver's license to worry about. But no. I own a  home. I have investments. I have multiple insurances. I have banks, doctors, garbage men, Home Owners Associations, voter registration...the list goes on and on and I am constantly tripping over yet another thing coming to me under my maiden name. What a bitch it is. Some things I don't even know HOW to change - like my work voice-mail log-in name. Someone set it up for me and now I have no idea how to change it. Apparently the person who set it up no longer works for the company and I can't find a damn soul who knows how to do it. The whole thing is a total time-sucker.

So I started researching how to change my name. I went to blogs I like and trust and checked out some of the ads.

A lot of the "bigger" wedding blogs are all about the website in question and topic of this post. You can't miss this website  now that you're a missus.  These "bigger" web sites talk about how easy it is to use, how all you have to do is fill out the forms, click your mouse and PREST-O-CHANGE-O you are now Mrs. Candyman! Bullshit.

The forms are helpful, but the work you have to do to fill them in is ridunkulous. Stupid, in fact. I was working my way through the forms and they wanted the addresses to all my credit card companies. Ever try to find that? I called the phone number on the back of my card to get the address, the helpful guy gave it to me and asked why I needed it. I told him and he said, "Oh, I can do that for you now over the phone." Done. No need to fill out a form, which drops the infp into a pre-formatted letter, which you then have to SNAIL MAIL to the credit card company. That's when I stopped filling out the forms and started calling. Why? Because some places you can do over the phone, easy-peasy. Others require a copy of your Social Security card, driver's license, marriage license and first born child. Every entity is different and thinking that a catch-all form will handle it is just dumb. 

Here's what you need to do:

All things start with your Social Security Card and Driver's License. Do those first.

Go here to get the SS-5 form for your Social Security Card.

You'll need to go to your particular state's DMV website to get your form. 99.9% of the time you will need your marriage license when you submit. In person. At the DMV. Suckage.

The other biggies?

The U.S. Postal Service- but really only if you're moving in with you're honey and changing addresses. 

Passport (You will need to mail in a physical marriage license, but you get it back. I highly recommend getting one or two extra notarized copies. In Tennessee you can request them in writing with a handy dandy on-line form and they are $5 each. It takes less than a week to get them back.)

Credit Cards


Health Care Providers

Frequent Flier Cards/Membership Cards (this one has quite honestly been the most difficult group)


Student Loans

Car Loans

Your place of employment (they'll need a copy of your new SS card)

Investment Houses (401K, IRA, etc)

Legal documents (wills, trusts, power of attorney, etc.)

Voter Registration

There are also some web sites out there that offer all these forms for FREE.



Now, the webiste that I wasted my money on does have a handy checklist that lets you know when you're done filling stuff out. But please, any moron can do this. eHow has a free check list that you can use - that again, is free.

I'd say save your $30 for a spring t-shirt or two at Old Navy and DIY this one, ladies. It's just not worth it.

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