Children and Nail Guns. Like Peanut Butter and Jelly.

The day will come my children will demand to finger paint and I will not wring my hands in angst. That day will be when our basement is no longer the Cement Hole and figerpainting can occur in its rightful place. Away from me. And that day is now in the foreseeable future! We're going to re-fi the house and do all the annoying things that dads and nosy old neighbors nag you about like fix-the-roof-stain-the-deck-seal-the-driveway, and - AND finish the basement!!! In fact, my husband started this weekend. Which is only slightly annoying, as this was our first weekend without a football game or hunting trip. But, hell. At least he's not out messing with The Giant Pumpkin. That "project" is now thankfully dismembered and rotting on our front steps. Yeah, whatever. We still have a few Halloween decorations up, but they're Very Tasteful (haha - tasteful Halloween decorations! I crack me up!). So anyway, back to the basement! Which will soon be referred to as The Spare Bedroom. Or The Family Room. Or the Laundry Room Slash Spare Bathroom. I feel like the Martin Short character from Saturday Night Live - the guy with his pants pulled up to his nipples jumping around shouting, "I'm so excited! I get to meet Pat Sajak!" The future of our basement is my Pat Sajak.
(There's a lot of things going on in this picture, I figured the demon dog was a minor distraction. And anyway, I want to chronicle the progress and this is the start.)