Tag: emotions

The Great Bathroom Remodel Comes to a Close – Finally!

 On April 16, 2011, the first day of our vacation, we started the most labor intensive remodel of our master bath and on January 14, 2012, we are finally finished.  It only took two days shy of nine months to gut and totally revamp the eight foot by ten foot room.  I had this improvished model of reality that the remodel from start to finish would only take one maybe two weeks.  I had no idea what taking out the bathtub, the vanity and removing one closet would entail.  By some sheer miracle of faith, we are still married (to each other!).  There were times I didn’t think the room would ever finish or that our marriage would survive.  The only thing left to do is hang some decorative pictures, even though Mitch looks completely baffled when I mention that, as to why anyone would hang something other than a robe or a towel in a bathroom.  This has been the crux of our differences. 

But I must say that the bathroom looks awesome.  Much better than it did, with the ugliest vanity on the face of the planet.  No more is there a faux wood grain counter top.  Gone is the chipping porcelain sink.  The two pedestal sinks look so clean and contemporary.  Banished is the cramped, closed in space.  The custom cabinets made by Smithville Custom Cabinets look rich and warm, giving us ample storage.  The outdated hanging lights attached to the ceiling are gone and recessed lighting floods the room.  The tile floor looks so much better than the old linoleum and using the same porcelain tile as a baseboard was a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself.  It really does look very nice, though Mitch says was too labor intensive compared to regular wood baseboard. 

I took pictures of before, during and after, but you have to actually stand in the room to fully appreciate how hard Mitch worked and what an accomplishment he made.  I kept a spreadsheet of all the money spent on the remodel and we completed the project in at just under five thousand dollars.  Mitch did all of the work himself, with the occasional help from a few friends.  Otherwise the cost would have been much higher.

I Tortured My Dogs Today

I tortured my dogs today.  I tortured them viciously, remorselessly.  I did it with malice and premeditation.  I was the ultimate evil pet owner.  Charlie tried to escape the onslaught by huddling deeply in one of the dog beds.  He looked up at me with pitiful soft eyes, begging for mercy.  Orso jumped up on the bed and curled into a ball hoping for leniency, bracing for the worst.  AJ stood silently by me looking up at me with soft loving eyes hoping for a reprieve and letting me know he loved me even though I was not the loving pet owner he deserved. 

But I’m the worst pet owner any dog would ever have.  I wielded my instrument of torture with the precision of a skilled surgeon.  I worked quickly, leaving the dogs no escape from their fate.  All three knew the worst was yet to come.  I showed no outward emotion on my face, but inside I felt a degree of satisfaction, maybe even a little evil pleasure at their despair.  Yes, I was enjoying this.

They finally gave in and hung their heads knowing there was no escape and gave into the inevitable.  My instrument of torture?  A leash. I made my “water” dogs go for a walk in the rain.

No Way to Start the Day

There is nothing worse than putting on your eyeliner and a GIANT HUGE spider drops on the countertop not two feet away from you.  I almost lost my eye.  Stupid spider didn’t even have the good manners to drop slowly on a web trailer.  No, he just free fell and landed hard.  I think he was slightly dazed from the fall because there was a long moment from him landing, me screaming and him running off.  If the countertop was anything else besides granite, I think he would have left a dent.  Of course the spider then ran toward the back of the countertop and disappeared.  Lucky me, I still have one eye left to do, and my sink is in the corner, leaving me vulnerable to a sneak attack by the rabid arachnid.

Mitch as usual looked at me with that condescending expression, head tilted to the left and down. I moved the Kleenex box, the huge spider ran out from behind and off the countertop to the floor.  That’s when the screaming started again.  Now it was on the floor and on the move.  Luckily, Mitch saw it first and smashed it with his fist, yuck.  I made him put the smooshed spider in his trashcan – not mine, then wash his hands WITH soap.

Thank god I can at least go to work with both eyes done.

Happy Birthday Charlie

Charlie turns seven on Halloween. His date of birth sort of says it all when you describe him. He is the sweetest most lovable psycho dog anyone would ever want to own. One minute he’s sitting beside you looking up at you with the softest expression then a split second later his face changes and no one is sure who’s inside there looking out. It’s pretty unsettling to anyone who comes over.

 Charlie is animal aggressive thanks to a dog attacking him as a puppy owned by a woman that lives around here once in our yard and another time on an encounter while walking him. That pretty much set the tone for all other dogs in Charlie’s mind. We have to be very vigilant around other dogs. It has taken months of hard work to get him to play with our friends’ two dogs. When their two dogs and our three get together, we are all on guard for any change in the force.

We have our first pheasant hunting trip coming up shortly and now that he’ll be seven, we’re hoping that some of his exuberance at being out in the field doing what all of his instincts are screaming his brain to do (better known as running around in the field totally out of control, flushing birds a mile away) will be diminished. Not likely! But we’re holding on to hope. What can I say, I am a Pollyanna.

This year we’re going hunting with middle aged to senior citizen dogs. AJ is eleven, Charlie will be seven and Orso (non-hunting Lab) is five. Mitch is still optimistic about Orso. I don’t hold out much hope though. Maybe we’ll get to work the fields at a more sedate speed instead of the 4mph walks I’ve done in the past.

A Dog is a Dog is a Dog And a Loved Member of the Family

 My son lost one of his dogs this past weekend.  His dog was ten years old and had a stroke.  That’s not particularly old for a dog, but not young either depending on the breed.  It came on fast and was not expected, which makes the loss more ragged and raw.  No one is ever ready to lose a member of the family, whether human or animal, but when it is unexpected there is a huge sense of loss. 

His loss made me remember Buddy, our yellow Labrador.  He was probably the best dog ever.  He always had a smile on his face.  Buddy was our constant companion going everywhere with us.  He was about twelve years old when he woke me up very late one night bumping into the cabinets in the bathroom acting disoriented.  His abdomen was huge and rock hard and he was panting heavily.  I thought that he needed to go outside to go pee or maybe he had to poop badly.  I had no idea what was wrong with him.  I took him out and watched as he stumbled outside.  He collapsed in the yard so I rushed back inside and woke up Mitch to help me get him in the house.

Mitch carried him in and laid him on the kitchen floor.  AJ laid down beside him, I sat on the floor by Buddy’s head asking Mitch what was wrong mentally imploring him to fix it, make it better for Buddy.  Neither one of us had ever heard of abdominal torsion.  We sat on the floor helpless watching him take his last breath.

As Buddy took his last breath, AJ laid his head on Buddy’s neck.  I believe AJ was trying to comfort Buddy.  I looked at Buddy but it didn’t dawn on me yet that he was gone.  I asked Mitch what happened, to fix Buddy.   Make it better.  Make him well.  As an adult, I knew Buddy was dead, but the little girl in me, wanted a higher power to fix everything, to right the universe, turn back time.  It wasn’t possible and I sat on the floor sobbing over Buddy, the best friend I’d ever had and beloved family member.

Family and friends all tried to comfort us, say something magical that would make us feel better.  It did and it didn’t.  Knowing that Buddy had touched so many hearts and we had so many friends helped, but the loss of him hurt so much.  It was a physical pain, in the chest, and behind the eyes, trying fruitlessly to hold back tears.  Trying to be a grownup, knowing it was just a dog and dogs die, but a dog isn’t just a dog, he was part of our family and it hurt as much as if he were a person.

I tried to comfort my son, saying all the things people say when you lose a family member.  Saying all the wrong things, realizing as I was saying them, it wasn’t enough and couldn’t find the magical words that would make him feel better.  But there is no magical word out there.  Loving and loss are the yin and yang of life and both are needed in our lives.  It’s what makes us compassionate and whole.

Buddy died in 2005 and I still miss him terribly.  I will laugh out loud as I remember some of his antics and shed a few tears occasionally, but that’s all part of loving and I am so glad that I have that ability.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Buddy –  1994 ? – 2005

My Three Dogs

We have three dogs.  AJ, The Good Dog, Charlie, The Green-Eyed Monster, and Orso, The Drool Machine.  AJ, The Good Dog, a seventy pound Labrador, is sweet and loving, soft and gentle and totally devoted to me.  Most of the time he has a serious expression on his face, but when the mood strikes him, The Good Dog is full of the Devil.  I’ve seen him put Olympic style wrestling moves on a ninety five pound Doberman and take him to the ground, laying on top of Rocky just chewing on his neck.  Now at eleven years old, the moments of the Devil are fewer and farther between, but it’s still there when needed. 

We got Charlie, The Green-Eyed Monster, when he was ten weeks old.  AJ acted like a proud papa watching over him and playing with him as Charlie grew up.  It was pretty amazing watching AJ play to Charlie’s level, never too hard, only as hard as the puppy could handle.  As Charlie grew the play got rougher, teaching him how to handle himself.  Charlie is a sixty five pound half German Shorthair half Labrador and total psycho dog.  Even though he  was almost raised by AJ, he will get extremely jealous of the attention we give AJ or Orso.  At seven years old, he will still look at you with an expression that says, “I’m the baby!  Don’t play with him, touch me.”

I didn’t want Orso, The Drool Machine, didn’t want to even go look at him.  A coworker of Mitch’s has a son that had a nine month old Chocolate Lab who needed to get rid of him.  I kept telling Mitch two dogs was enough.  The was no tension, both dogs got along, nothing was getting destroyed, life was good.  But Mitch said, “Let’s just go take a look see.  We don’t have to bring him home.”  What a crock.  Mitch knows me well enough to know that if I see him, we’ll be bringing him home.  So long story short, we came home with a ninety five pound puppy.  At five years old, The Drool Machine has wormed his way into our hearts, so he is here to stay.

Writer’s Block

What do you do when you want to write and nothing will come out?  I’m been sitting here for over an hour staring at the computer, playing solitaire off and on hoping for inspiration to strike me from – somewhere – I don’t know.  Maybe if I knew, then the words and thoughts would start to flow.  There are so many things I want to say but for some reason, no cognitive thought let alone creative thought has come to me. 

It’s enough to make me crazy.  How do I progress and improve as a writer if I can’t get past this huge wall in front of me?

Summer and Cicadas

The sound of the Cicada serenade conjures up images of sitting on the porch with friends and family sipping a cold drink, enjoying the summertime evenings.  (For most people) that is.  Not me.  The sound of Cicadas mean a totally different summer ritual. 

I walk the dogs every morning at 4:30 while it’s still dark.  Yes I know at 4:30 it’s dark, but there’s a reason I mention that it’s dark.  And you’re wondering what walking the dogs at 4:30 has to do with Cicadas, well let me explain. 

I discovered quite by accident and pure disgust by the way that my dogs love to eat Cicadas.  One early morning I was walking Buddy, our yellow lab, when all of a sudden he jerked the leash toward something large on the ground and grabbed it in his mouth and chomped down.  As he snatched it up in his mouth, I heard this sound that sounded like a thousand bees buzzing at once then crunch.  As I realized what Buddy had just eaten, my stomach turned over and I thought for a second that I was going to vomit.  I thought for sure that he would spit the bug out, because it had to taste absolutely nasty.  Obviously not, he loved the taste.

After many Cicadas had been consumed by Buddy, I started to lose the queasy feeling every time he ate one and actually started to help him find them.  We currently have three dogs, and all of them love the taste of Cicadas.  So every morning on our walks, as we get close to street lights, I start walking around in circles looking for Cicadas resting on the street so the dogs can eat a bug.  Charlie gets really excited and watches me for any telltale sign of a Cicada so he can rush over and snatch it up before AJ can get to it.

Thank god no one else walks at the same time in the morning, because anyone that watched us would think I was totally nuts.

Summer Sizzles

It’s been as hot a summer as it was as cold a winter last winter, comparatively.  I’ve discovered that I don’t handle the heat as well as in the past.  I’ve never handled the cold well though.  There was a ton of snow and the cold lingered on and wouldn’t go away.  Even the dogs got tired of the cold and lingering snow.  We couldn’t wait for summer, everyone kept saying, “I promise not to complain when it gets hot.” 

We didn’t get to enjoy spring this year.  It was short lived and not very pleasant weather wise.  Too much rain each time it rained.  And I realized the other day that the year is half over and another winter is coming.  We could use some rain and hopefully the heat wave will subside a bit, but I’m not ready for winter.  And as far as I’m concerned, fall can wait a bit before it shows up.  The days move too fast.  At work each day you can’t wait til quitin’ time, one day closer to Friday and on Friday you can’t wait til it’s Saturday.  A never ending cycle.  I found myself wishing my life away.  And I’m too old to be wishing away what time’s left.  (I’m not that old, but too old to be wishing it away.)

So even though it’s hotter than hades right now, I’m not wishing for winter.

The Great Bathroom Remodel (formerly known as The Gutting of the Bathroom)

So many weeks have passed since we started the Great Bathroom Remodel.  It is now the middle of July and we started in April.  And to think that I was so sure with the two of us on vacation together we could knock out the demolition and renovation in one week, maybe two tops.  Silly me.  You can tell I have never been involved in such a huge undertaking.  I guess I really do live in a fantasy world. 

Demolition is over and rebuilding is underway.  There have been interruptions galore.  One week in the heat to replace the brake lines in the station wagon.  A few days here and there to help friends work on their cars.  Mitch just can’t say no.  Not to mention one huge temper tirade.  I thought that was the end right then and there.

The floor is tiled, the bath tub has been installed and most of the sheetrock has been hung.  Mitch is busy sanding the sheetrock as I write this.  He even has the floor to ceiling medicine closet built.  He wired the lights that will go over mirrors, cut the holes that will hold the mirrors and has plumbed all the water lines and drains for the sinks and tub.

I bought the wall paint and primer and am ready to start as soon as all the sheetrock has been hung and sanded.  The hold up now is the staining of the cabinets.  I had one cabinet stained, but because of the heat and humidity it didn’t turn out well.  The surface of the cabinet doors had dust and grit embedded in the stain.  So we had to bring them inside to the basement where it is much cooler than the garage and re-stain after sanding off all of the gritty stain.  I just love to redo everything I’ve already done.  But even in the basement with the air conditioner running, the stain is slow in drying.  We have to have the one cabinet that will go over the toilet done and in place before he can hang the last of the sheetrock.  I have two cabinets left to stain.  At this rate, I might be done staining by the second coming.

We decided on recessed lighting but haven’t found any we like yet  We haven’t picked out the counter top for the floor cabinet.  We haven’t even gone to look at anything yet.  And there’s the matter of the shower door / curtain.  We can’t decide which way to go.  Shower door or shower curtain.  Any suggestions? 

We’re still married, though at times it’s been close.