My husband and I celebrate seven long months of marriage this month, just in time for the Christmas and New Year’s holidays.
We truly can’t believe how fast the time has gone by in 2008. But what we can’t believe even more is how we didn’t receive our pre-paid wedding photos, album and DVD until about six months after our wedding.
Our months of waiting for the photos that captured our big day were very interesting, to say the least. Our photographer was stellar — wonderful at the art of photography, reasonable in providing us with the contracted amount of hours for taking photos and patient with a bunch of excited guests and family members at the church and reception hall. However, it took my husband and my sending several e-mails and making many phone calls — most unreturned in the more recent months — to finally get the rest of our materials. They included a specially colored 8-inch-by-10-inch photo, a nicely designed album and the DVD containing our 500-plus photos. (Our other smaller wedding prints trickled during weeks prior.) When we finally got the rest of our goods in the mail, it was as if we’d received an early December Christmas present that really should’ve arrived for Christmas in July!
Unfortunately, the first report we filed using our Angie’s List membership had to be a sub-par one because of the situation. We certainly look back on our wedding day as a wonderful time we’ll never forget, but the pictures also reminds us of the importance of not only getting every agreed-to product and service in writing, but also getting the specific details, along with a date of completion, in writing, too.
Here are some tips from Angie’s List about what you should to before you sign on that dotted line.
YaShekia is an associate editor for
Angie’s List magazine. Her favorite movie is The Temptations, and she loves riding roller coasters, singing and dancing.
Christmas is here. I’m so excited, it’s ridiculous. For some reason, finding out that Santa Claus doesn’t exist didn’t deter from the magic of the holiday season for me. I still get all watery-eyed when I see a house decked out in lights. I can’t help but pick up wrapped packages and shake them. I’ve managed to fit seven Christmas trees — of varying sizes — in my home. It’s sick really.
This year, the fact that money is tight hasn’t gotten me down a bit. Instead of buying pre-made gifts for loved ones, I’ve resorted to sharing my talents. I’ve done some drawings and paintings for family members, offered up my husband’s photography skills to others and baked cookies and other goodies for the rest. I had to make sure I was able to get all of this done though, so there was some preparation needed. Before any baking could begin, I checked the List and find someone to service our oven — I can’t have my good-baking name marred by burnt sugar cookies!
Jackie is editor of
Quality + Design, the
Angie's List newsletter.
She's currently owned by three Great Danes named Silas, Eppie and Augustus Merriweather as well as two angry tabby cats, Bob and Polly. Her favorite album is anything by Radiohead.
A war’s been brewing in my house over the last eight months: It’s man vs. beast … cheapball vs. hairball … roommate vs. my dog.
My recent troubles started a few months back when my dog chewed my roommate’s cigarettes. He left them soggy, many of them broken. You could say this incident was the Bleeding Kansas before the full-blown Civil War.
My dog seems to chew on things. Strange things. Packs of cigarettes. Wallets. Screwdrivers. Money. He loves money. Not change but cash. It’s disappointing and expensive. He took out a couch cushion and two matching pillows last week. And guess who owns the couch?
So I wasn’t surprised when my “roomie” was in a panic the other day. The casualty? Another pack of cigarettes. Let me tell you, don’t mess with a smoker and their fix. It can get scary. And this time Sherman tore apart each stick of tobacco — that left nothing for my roommate, who wasn’t happy.
But I was scared. It appeared like my dog ate 15 cigarettes. Do you know what they put in those things? I watched over the little guy like a hawk, waiting for any sign of poisoning: gagging, choking, puking, anything.
I hit the Internet. Did you know that nicotine is used as a pesticide? It can cause seizures, problems breathing, vomiting and even death if ingested in the right amounts. Three or four cigarettes worth of nicotine can kill an adult, if absorbed directly into the bloodstream at once. Pretty scary.
I can report that my dog is fine. He seemed to rip them apart, rather than eat the tobacco. I doubt he even ingested half a cigarette. The only problems I noticed was bad gas and a irritated roommate, and that’s normal. And the roommate won’t let me forget.
This initial skirmish is my home’s Fort Sumter. I see nothing but bloodshed on the horizon.
Ladies and gentleman, the war has begun. And a house divided against itself cannot stand.
Conor is an associate editor for
Angie's List magazine. He has a cat named Kanye and a puppy named Sherman, his favorite movie is
Back to the Future, he loves playing basketball and his favorite place is his couch.
It’s less than a week until Christmas. My shopping’s almost finished, I’ve made my holiday plans and, of course, it’s cold outside. But there’s one thing missing: Snow.
Every year, I hope for a white Christmas. But I rarely see one. I’m from a city that overprepares for any bad winter weather (just a threat of snow means school closings, long lines at the grocery store, and lots of salt on the roads), but has some trouble when a real storm comes. By “real storm,” I mean flurries, or maybe an inch or two. Anyone who goes out drives no faster than 10 mph, and everywhere you go, nervous drivers have pulled over on the side of the road, blinkers flashing, waiting for the weather to clear or possibly wondering why they decided to brave the treacherous weather in the first place.
But that’s never the case on Christmas Day. Just about every Dec. 25 — in Louisville, at least — comes with sunshine, clouds or, sometimes, some rain, but rarely is there any snow.
So that’s my Christmas wish this year—not enough snow to shut down the city, but just a few inches to make it really feel like Christmas. I wouldn’t mind if it were more; in fact, I’ve already checked Angie’s List for a snow removal company, just in case. (I guess I’m just overpreparing, just like everyone else from my hometown.)
Then, if it must, it can go back to raining the next day.
Liz is an associate editor at
Angie's List magazine. She enjoys eating chocolate chip ice cream on the beach after swimming. She also likes colder, drearier places like London.
Along my route to work, there’s a house with a yard full of holiday cheer — of the inflatable variety. I’ve got to say: I gawk at it every morning. Personally, I’m no fan of these inflatable giants as lawn decor. I guess I’m just more of a traditionalist — wire your house with an abundance of twinkly lights so it can be seen from the moon — Clark Griswold style, as Twinkle has mentioned.
What do you think?
Mandy Miller is senior online editor for Angie's List publication department. When she's not focusing on the
magazine's website and other online offerings, she's tackling a mounting list of home improvements she thinks she can do herself. Plus, she really likes to ride her bike, play with her puppy, Boo Radley, and take naps.
So, I’m excited about the holiday season. It does seem like the actual holiday is taking forever to get here, however. Even though I know I should be more of a grown-up, I can’t help but be enthusiastic. I’m dreaming of my grandmother’s homemade fudge and divinity, of ambrosia … and chocolate pie and dressing and turkey and … and …And who cares about the presents??
One thing I do know is that I love decorating. My favorite place during the holidays is my grandparents’ house, dripping with lights and tinsel. It’s just not so easy for them to decorate nowadays. They are getting pretty up there in age, and they will never admit they can’t do something — even at age 87. But, it’s tough climbing ladders, toting things, positioning those eight tiny reindeer and aligning those life-size candy canes down the front walk.
And what to my surprise did I spy on the List while doing research for a podcast? There are people who will actually come out and DECORATE FOR YOU! How incredibly fun! I want that job. Can you imagine getting up in the morning and your job is to be a veritable Clark Griswold? Rad!
Happy holidays!
Twinkle VanWinkle is a Southern punk-rock belle transplanted to Indianapolis, and is
List-en up! producer for
Angie's List. She enjoys thrift store treasure hunting, dusty old records and is a connoisseur of hot sauces.
It’s been 30 days since I bid my trusty truck farewell as she made her way to that Junkyard in the Sky. Although I’ve moved through each phase of the grieving process and finally accepted I must buy a new truck, I’ve recently been awash with a new feeling: frustration.
I’ve test-driven vehicles, set up Internet searches and purchased online title history services. I’ve shaken hands with too many dealership sales reps to remember and my coat pockets are about to burst with their business cards. But the question remains: Why am I not driving a new-to-me used vehicle yet?
I’m too picky. I take the consumer savvy that most Angie’s List members practice to its ultimate high when purchasing a vehicle. I quiz the dealer or owner about every aspect of the vehicle’s history including whether or not they’ve ever eaten French fries in it. I go for multiple test drives, putting the prospective vehicle through every condition imaginable and feasible. I even have my family friend, a former mechanic, thoroughly inspect anything I’m considering purchasing. I refuse to be suckered into overpaying, so I obsessively research retail values. One of my greatest fears in life (other than clowns) is buying a vehicle that later I’ll regret. I refuse to buy something I’m only lukewarm about, and I won’t pay more than a certain amount per month. It took six months of searching to find my last vehicle, and much to my wife’s dismay (she’s unwillingly sharing her car for the time being), it looks like it may take that long again. My mantra is “I’d rather be patient than foolish.”
Thankfully, my List membership has helped guide me along the way. If I see a vehicle I like at a dealer, I check their ratings to see what other members say about their experiences. Being well informed is the only way to buy a car, new or used, and Angie’s List is just another way to stay on top of my car-buying game.
Josh is an associate editor at
Angie's List magazine. He has two dogs, Simon and Clem, and likes Thai food, Portland, Ore., and riding his motorcycle. For the low price of $1.00 US, he will give you his sincere and succinct opinion about anything.
Three-and-a-half years ago, I interned at Indianapolis Monthly magazine, assisting with tough jobs such as restaurant reviews and searches for the best “cheap eats” in town — an assignment oh-so difficult for a college student.
For the September 2006 issue, they put me on an editorial quest to find the best Indiana-grown popcorn judged by taste, appearance and “popability.” This was an exciting assignment, yes, but there was one minor hang-up: I hated popcorn.
Nevertheless, I researched where every popcorn brand grows its corn, scoured grocery stores and super marts for Indiana-grown popcorn in butter and light varieties, and popped dozens of bags of popcorn for an in-house taste test. After all that, I can say I finally started to like — and even appreciate — the taste of those airy cornballs.
So now, three internships and a diploma later, I’m at Angie’s List Magazine, occasionally taste-testing the fresh-daily buttery snack from the company’s carnival-like popcorn machine located in the Firehouse. My tastebuds are now seasoned professionals at grading popcorn’s taste, appearance and “popability,” and I give Angie’s List popcorn an “A.” Now, if only that grade counted for something on the List.
Brooke is an editorial intern at
Angie’s List magazine. After graduating college, she completed a publishing internship in London, then toured Paris, Ireland and England.
Like many parents out there, I’m feeling fairly overwhelmed with the holidays, and trying to remember to enjoy the holiday and its spirit of giving.
And what I’d like most to give (and get if I’m honest here) is time.
That’s where I figure Angie’s List can come into play. There are hundreds of service providers who give people time. Why not contact one or more of them for a gift certificate for loved ones? If the fees are more than you would normally spend on a gift, go in with other friends to provide the gift certificate.
A quick scan of categories gave me plenty of ideas for gift certificates:
- Personal chef
- Dog walker
- Carpet cleaners
- House cleaning
- Handyman
- Snow removal
- Personal trainer
- Errand runners
- Masseuse
- Hair stylist
I guarantee you that your friends and families will be grateful for the gift of a stress-free, home-cooked meal, tidy house or seeing odd repair jobs completed.
Kathleen, who is a senior editor with
Angie’s List, lives with her husband, Greg Andrews, sons, Quinn and William, and sweet mutt Suzy Q in Washington Township in a 1968 tri-level that needs lots of updating. She loves the music of Amy Rigby, watching "The Wire" (RIP), reading narrative nonfiction and cooking.
As a novice gardener, I heartily welcomed the first frost of the season. Finally, the weeds in my yard stopped growing.
Spring started out promising enough. I turned over some dirt by the side of the house and purchased a flower garden from a mail-order catalog. I wasn’t even discouraged when puny plants and bare-roots arrived in plastic baggies, instead of the flourishing 2-foot-tall specimens I was expecting.
Then the growing season began. My flowers flourished, but so did every weed . Before I knew it, the crab grass and purslane had taken over. Loathe to apply any chemicals, I plucked by hand. But mostly, I let nature take over. And I waited … for winter.
Next spring, I have big plans: I’m leaving it to the professionals. I’ll hire a landscaper to put in new sod and help with the flowerbeds. I look forward to when my garden is under control and only needs light weeding.
Robin is a staff writer who recently joined
Angie’s List magazine. She lives in South Broad Ripple, Indianapolis with her husband and a cat in a tiny bungalow that needs lots of work.
