Not only is my daughter, Rachelle, an aspiring and talented mezzo soprano studying at UNT, she can:
- Train Rottweilers (in German)
- Draw your blood (certified phlebotomist)
- Count to ten in Japanese thanks to years of judo and jujitsu
- Crochet left-handed (something I couldn’t have taught her)
- Tune a piano (but not a fish)
- Grout tile
It only took two years and my daughter’s elbow grease to get the grout between these tiles. Thank you Rachelle!
Today is the Twelfth Day of Christmas. If I really aspired to ambitious social impact, I’d host a Twelfth Night party, but I’ll settle for coming home to grouted tile.
Why? Because nearly two years ago, we laid down tile in our front entryway. The grout remains in the box.
I love the feel of the tile and the non-squeaky, non-creakiness of it (compared to the rest of the floor in the house which is nailed to the joists, not screwed).
With Rachelle’s help, or Terry supervising Rachelle, the spaces between the tiles should be filled sometime today. Keeping the Rottweilers occupied while it sets will also prove challenging.