Tag: journaling

It’s Too Hot To Go Outside

It’s hot and the dogs don’t want to go outside, but still want to play, hence the house has become their personal play zone.  The living room is the wrestling ring, the bed is the trampoline for their jumping on and off point to get a better vantage point in the wrestling ring and the dining room is the challenge zone.  That is where one of the dogs will square off on one of the other two issue a challenging bark, make a threatening lunge and then turn tail run to the living room and wait in the wrestling ring for a challenger to show up.  Of course with 3 male dogs, even though they are all neutered, they are still male dogs, there is always a challenger.  Then the fight is on, barking, charging each other from opposite sides of the room for a “vicious” chest slam and finally crashing to the floor for some serious neck chewing.

 Orso will pull away jump up and run to the bedroom, leap on the bed and stand there barking at the other two.  What a lame-o.  If no one accepts the challenge, he will then leap off the bed and rush back into the fray, because it’s more fun to be chewed on.  I don’t know why, I’ve watched them chewing on each other and it looks very painful.  Grabbing the jowl or face with their teeth and pulling back, makes me hurt just watching.  These three will do this all the time.  Go figure.

After much barking, chest slamming and chewing all three will collapse on the floor panting thoroughly spent and happy, watching me right all the knocked over furniture.  I think we need more dogs.

Fire And Ice

Mitch told me this morning that we were the same story, just different editions so you wind up with the same story content being on different pages.  I asked him to explain what he meant.  He said that when I ask if he’s happy his usual answer is that he’s okay.  Okay to him is that yes, he’s happy and content.  He went on to say that while his happiness level on a scale of ten, he is maybe a five or a six (perfect for him), my happiness level is closer to a nine or a ten.  The reason for his declaration was that yesterday I had confronted him and asked point blank if he was happy because he had been walking around for almost a year now with this look of desperate misery.  He has been more closed than normal and giving off people repellent vibes.  I gave him the chance to clear the air and tell me up front what it would take for him to be happy.  I’m a true believer in making yourself happy because no one else out there is going to.  If you can’t be happy and content with yourself how can you possibly be happy in any kind of relationship?

I have to explain something about Mitch.  Mitch is reserved, closed and mostly very stoic. A classic introvert.  I think he was born old, an old soul is how his mother used to describe him.  Me, I’m probably never going to grow up. Where is the fun in that?  I on the other hand am open, happy most of the time and very demonstrative.  An extrovert through and through.  He was raised in a family that didn’t touch much, very little hugging, while I was raised in a family that hugged and kissed all the time.  We told each other that we loved them (not my brother when he was kid – yuck!).  That was a real challenge for Mitch, getting used to me touching and kissing him especially in public.  In reality we are total opposites, maybe that is what attracted me to him, the quiet reserve.  I wanted to dig and uncover the fire underneath all the layers.  And yes there is a fire way down deep.

He went on to explain that he is very task oriented and focuses all of his attention and energy on the one task at hand.  He does not multi-task well.  That was why he was coming off distracted.  It’s like a news reel in his head, total focus on the current project or problem.  Right now it is the remodel of the dining room and before that, The Great Bathroom Remodel, where every forward progress was accompanied with two steps back.  Maybe I’m working him too hard. 

I know that I’m a challenge to live with and he certainly is too, but isn’t that half the fun, having to figure out what truly makes us tick?

The Wrong Spot

When we demolished and rebuilt our deteriorating retaining wall, we found a huge granite boulder buried under the wall.  We paid someone to come and unearth it for us.  He unearthed it easily and even placed the boulder in the exact spot I wanted it moved to.  In front of our house is a flat area that people will park on to visit the people across the street.  Digging ruts in our yard and never bothering to ask if we mind.  I have long been contemplating various possible solutions to the problem. Landmines, punji sticks and curled razor wire seemed a bit over the top, but I was getting close to my wit’s end as to what to do.  I had long considered a boulder but the size I needed was cost prohibitive, so it was very timely that we literally were sitting on the very solution to my problem and a legal solution to boot.  Bonus!  Of course when the man with the backhoe came out and moved the boulder for us the offending neighbors were out in force to watch with great interest.  Questions were asked as to why I had it put there and to be polite I just said that it was the perfect spot.  I would plant some ornamental grasses around it and how pretty it would look and yada-yada-yada.  Nothing was said at the time about my rock putting a damper on our yard being a parking spot, maybe they hadn’t figured it out yet.  I just played it off as being totally oblivious to anything but my new rock. 

I decided to dig up some of my ornamental grass that has just taken over and is growing in places I don’t want it to, and replant in clumps around the back of the boulder to accentuate the rock.  Plus it makes the rock look even bigger.  Another bonus; rock looks bigger, takes up more space!  Of course while I’m digging holes around the rock, a neighbor comes over to ask what I was doing.  I looked down at the holes and the temptation was strong to tell him that I had hacked Mitch up and  was burying body parts around the boulder, but I restrained myself and explained the obvious, since the grass was laying in clumps next to the rock.  Just as I was finishing up planting the last clump, the neighbor turned and told me that I had put the rock in the wrong spot.  I looked around, played dumb and said, “The wrong spot?  Really?”  Since I wasn’t playing into it, he had no opening to say that I’d ruined an awesome parking spot for anyone that wanted to use our yard as a Parking Spots R Us.  He said that if I wanted to sit on the rock the only view I had was his house.  I said that maybe someone would sit there to wait for a bus.  The only bus that comes by is a school bus and it doesn’t stop here.  He said that maybe he would sit on my rock.  Again the temptation was great to say something really wicked and evil, but all I said was that he could sit on my rock whenever he wanted to.

But now I’m worried that if want to do anymore landscaping I’ll put it in the wrong spot.

Another Test of True Love

It must be true love.  We are still married.  Some days I’m not so sure why though.  After the Great Bathroom Remodel was finally finished, just two days short of nine months, I waited for a couple of weeks to spring the next remodel project on Mitch.  You know, give him time to recover.  The latest project we’re (Mitch) starting is the dining room.  What can you possibly remodel in a dining room?  Well in most homes, not too much, change the paint color or wallpaper, maybe new carpeting, but in our house it’s a major undertaking.  Our house is one of those homes that was added on to multiple times, with or without any regard to the local building codes, depending on the decade the addition took place in.  The original structure, the kitchen and front room, now our dining room was built in 1928.  No building codes then.  Two bedrooms were added on in 1932 or 1934, still no building codes.  The final addition, the living room, master bedroom and bath were added in 1985.  This time built to code. I think.

Back in the early twentieth century one of the more popular indoor wall types for cottages was knotty pine planks.  Our house was originally built as a weekend fishing cottage, very rustic.  Hard wood floors, knotty pine planks for the walls and ceilings.  All stained dark brown.  You get the picture, a big brown cave with rooms.  When the final addition was built in 1985, sheetrock was used for the walls and ceiling, and for the floor, the ugliest gold carpet, yuck, and now gone, yay!

When we started the Great Bathroom Remodel, one of the first things that had to be done was to widen the front door, in order to get the new bathtub in the house.  That meant removing some of the knotty pine planks for the wider door.  When Mitch began finishing the front door project and replacing the outdoor light fixture, I started thinking about just removing all of the knotty pine and sheet rocking the walls.  We could cover the wood ceiling with sheetrock.  This would lighten up the room and make it look much larger.  As I’ve said before, I’m the idea person, Mitch is the implementer. 

I sort of tossed out my idea at a weak moment for Mitch, after a steak dinner and three glasses of wine.  I am also an opportunistic woman, I carefully plan my moments of surprise.  In his weakened state of mind, I laid out my ideas, glossed over the rough spots and finished on a high note. 

“It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks, don’t you think?  Nothing like the bathroom.” I was determined to put a positive spin on it.  Of course nothing done in this house takes a couple of weeks.

“God I hope not.”  Then he even got in the spirit of the remodel and offered a suggestion.  “We could even put down the bamboo flooring that we did in the living room and bedroom.” Yes, wine and steak, works every time.

Four weeks ago Mitch started the demolish of the dining room.  As always, he is very methodical, careful to salvage as much of the lumber he takes down, in case he has to reuse it again.  Me, I’m more of a bulldozer when it comes to demo work.  Isn’t that the point – demolish?  He was able to salvage a major part of the planks he removed, which will be used to patch a hole in one of the spare bedrooms and build a closet in the other.  We discovered there was no insulation on the exterior wall, no wonder that room is always hot in the summer and cold in the winter.  The very dated (ugly – definitely ’80’s) ceiling fan went away, which means I get to go SHOPPING!

 I spent hours in the paint department and grabbed armfuls of paint chips in all colors and hues.  The clerk kept asking if I needed any help.  I told him no I just wanted a variety of colors to compare.  He thought I was nuts and carefully backed away.  I found a ceiling fan and wall sconces that we could both agree on.  That’s always a challenge.  Our tastes and styles are complete opposites.

Demolition took about a week and a half.  Mitch only took down the knotty pine planks and left the wood ceiling unmolested, leaving it as a base for the sheetrock to be screwed into.  Hanging the sheetrock on the ceiling was a challenge.  The ceiling is vaulted with a four foot wide flat space in the middle of the ceiling where Mitch built a rafter for air conditioning duct work six years ago.  So he had to hang sheetrock at an angle up to the area for the rafter on both sides.  Of course this would have been easier if the room was level, but nothing and I mean nothing in this house is square or plumb.  After he finally got the ceiling hung, he found out the floor has a slight bow in it when he tried to hang the first piece on the wall.  I thought a Mitch Fit Warning was going to go out over the National Weather Service.  It wasn’t pretty.  Time to take the dogs for a walk.

He finished hanging all the sheetrock on Thursday except for the four inch high area above the front door.  That was proving to be a challenge.  The ceiling comes down to just above the door leaving little space to hang the door trim above the door.  For five days he has experimented with different ways to brace up the offending section and for five days Mitch has been just a bit testy.  He finally came up with an idea to brace up the sheetrock but the trim for the door will have to be different from the rest of the trim in the room.  I don’t think it will be that big of a deal and it solves the problem so no more Mitch Fit Warning. (At least for now).

 For the mudding and sanding I hired a neighbor that does it for a living to come in and do the finish work.  For all of his talents, mudding and sanding is not Mitch’s forte.  The mudding and sanding process has taken about a week and a half and should be finished this week. 

That leaves me painting the ceiling and walls.  Mitch will install the new pretty ceiling fan and wall sconces.  After that Mitch can then start installing the bamboo floor, and because the room is not square that will definitely bring on at least one Mitch Fit Warning maybe more.

Rule Number One – Change the Batteries

Rule number one – when you buy batteries to replace the dead ones in the indoor shock collars for the dogs, it’s always a good idea to actually change them.  I bought the batteries for the collars the very next morning and as is always the case, I got busy multitasking and totally forgot to change out the dead for the freshly charged batteries.  We had dinner plans that night with my best friend and her significant other, who were in town only for the weekend, so I was busy trying to get everything done for the day and prod Mitch along. 

Mitch is busy working on our latest renovation project since the bathroom finally was finished.  The latest project is totally gutting the dining room and sheet rocking the room ceiling and walls and covering the hard wood floors with bamboo.  Mitch is not a social butterfly, hermit fits the description better, so getting him to stop the rehab and get cleaned up in a timely fashion, is like prodding a giant tortoise to walk faster.  Not going to happen.  So while I’m prodding, nagging and giving him the Look, I completely forgot to change out the batteries.  We go to dinner and have a great time, because once I finally get Mitch out of the cave and into the light, he opens up and enjoys himself.  He’ll even grudgingly admit it later, maybe.   

We get home to barking dogs waiting for me to open the door and once inside, I’m overwhelmed with the wave of destruction the dogs have waged on the kitchen.  In the living room an empty butter container that had housed an unopened pound of whipped butter that one or more dogs had taken from the kitchen table and consumed.  Yummy, eating a pound of butter.  I can’t wait to see which dog ate that.  Farther in the living was a plastic jar of honey or what was left of it.  The lid had been chewed off and the top of the jar had been chewed with about one quarter of the honey eaten.  I picked up the empty butter container, lid and the honey jar and walked into the kitchen to survey the damage waiting for me.  The recycle bin had been opened and contents strewn about.  Why, it’s not like anything in there was edible.

The trash can was knocked over again with trash all over the floor.  Orso also left a wonderful gift in the guest bathroom off the kitchen, he peed on the tile floor.  Lovely.  Surprisingly no one looked at all remorseful.  Imagine that.

The trashcan will now be removed and a smaller one will go under the sink.  God help me if they figure out how to open cabinet doors.  The butter and honey get put up higher, just like living with toddlers and the recycle container will be emptied more often and left outside when I’m gone. 

Oh yes and I am going to change the batteries in the collars right now.

A New Day Walking the Dogs

In our efforts to get the dogs under some semblance of control when out walking and meeting others on our walks, making them sit and wait to be greeted instead of rushing up to be the greeters is one of our training routines.  Not that we have that many.  I’ve also been working with them to not charge at something that goes bump in the night on our predawn walks.  It hasn’t worked as quickly as I would like, but we’re getting there. 

We found the best walking harness for dogs that pull and tug on the leash.  Charlie has been a tugger since day one.  All of our efforts to get him to heel or at least not strain on the leash have been a waste up to now.  Mitch and I both thought we were going to have to have shoulder surgery just from walking him.  But not now, thanks to the find of the century or at least the find of the month, we tried the Easy Walk Harness, another harness of last resorts so to speak, and it’s awesome.  No more pulling and tugging, walking Charlie is almost a pleasure.  Almost, he still has to stop, sniff and pee on everything.  No getting your heart rate up with my dogs.  Another problem walking with hunting dogs.  They’re always hunting.

The other morning while Orso was stopped doing his thing, Charlie spotted some creature running up ahead in the dark.  I was paying attention to Orso and not Charlie so imagine my surprise when I felt this slight tug on my right arm.  I turned just in time to see Charlie flip head over heels and land on his side in the road.  He looked up at me with a look of total shock.  Evidently when he decided to chase the unseen animal, the harness literally pulled him off of his feet with just a mere tug on the leash.  I looked down at him laying there and laughed out loud, thinking this was the best twenty five dollars I ever spent. 

I decided right then that I was going to get Orso one too.  Now the morning walks will definitely be more sedate and safer for me.

Redbud Lane

I went for a walk today with the dogs and my camera in tow to take some pictures of spring flowers.  It seemed that almost all of the trees were blooming and budding out  and the vast majority are redbuds.  I had forgotten the multitude of redbuds growing in our little burg.  In fact one of the roads is lined on both sides with redbuds.  I decided that we need to rename the road to Redbud Lane.  I’m not sure what the process is to change the name of an existing road, but I’m pretty sure it is a pain in the patooty.  So I’m taking it upon myself to rename the road to Redbud Lane for the spring.  It can revert back to the old name for summer, fall and winter.  I think that’s a fair trade, after all I’m only claiming one of the four seasons.  From now on, in the spring if someone asks the name of the road, I will truthfully say, Redbud Lane but come back later in the year and all bets are off.

My Birthday

Today is my birthday.  I’m not announcing this to get birthday wishes, even though birthday wishes are always on my top ten list of good things.  I’m just always a bit amazed at the people I know, my sons included, who pooh pooh birthdays as they get older.  Do they think that by denying a birthday is denying age.  Not me, I love birthdays, the more the better.  I would celebrate my birthday twice a year if I could.  Birthdays are not about getting older, but getting better.  Getting another chance to do something special.  A chance to make a difference in your life and other lives that you touch.  Birthdays are not just the day to celebrate the day you were born (even though it’s a great excuse for cake)  but a chance to begin a re-birth of sorts. 

Birthdays are like New Year’s Resolutions, they are great way to make changes in ourselves.  Opportunities to grow, to be more, to never stop learning and loving life.  I recently found a ring that says it all.  “Love Life” is inscribed on the outside and on the inside the words “Be Brave”.  I wear it on my left thumb and every time I look at it, I smile.  It reminds me that if the day is not going to way I want, I still love life and every minute in it counts.  I would also add “Be Bold”.   I want to go through each day strong facing every challenge and opportunity with my chin stuck out.

There are so many things I want to do, places to go and people to meet.  There are not enough birthdays out there for me to accomplish all that I want with the years that I have left.  There is no way I going pass up a birthday just because a number changes and gets higher. 

I am not going pass up a birthday for vanity’s sake.  The important milestones in age are old enough to start going to school, getting your driver’s license, getting to vote and old enough to know better.  I don’t think some people ever learn the last part.  I’m sure some would add old enough to drink, but after getting old enough to know better, drinking is for taste and not drinking to get drunk. Besides the longer I’m around the longer I get to really annoy certain people. 

So Happy Birthday to me, it’s going to be great.

I’m Mad as Hell…I Just Don’t Get It

I don’t get it.  Right now I’m so mad and frustrated I’m not even sure how to write what I want to say.  I just heard on the news that there is a bill in Missouri to make it legal to shoot mountain lions.  Just because.  Now granted I haven’t read the entire bill, but there is already a law making it only legal to kill a mountain lion if it is threatening you or your livestock.  I don’t need a law for that.  Common sense says that if something, man or animal, is threatening me or my family (dogs included), I have no qualms about killing the threat.  But to just kill something for giggles and grins is totally repugnant to me. 

Why do we do this?  We build and destroy the habitat of wildlife and are then outraged when the deer eat our hostas, the raccoons tear up our trash and there are mountain lions walking through our backyard.    Why are we so myopic that the world is all about us?  I’m not a total tree hugger, but my god when do we stop and start being the caretakers and good stewards of this world?

Okay, I’ll come down off my soapbox, but I’m still pissed as hell.  I just don’t get it.

I Got Rhythm – Not!

When I was supposed to be concentrating on my breathing and clearing my thoughts in yoga class, I started thinking about my performance or lack there of, at my last Zumba class.  I was thinking about Zumba class partially because it was on my mind and partially because I don’t dare totally relax in the breathing exercise for fear of falling asleep.  Mitch swears that I snore and even though I know I don’t snore, God forbid some fluke accident and I did maybe snore, I would be mortified.  And that would be the end of yoga.  Yoga classes twice a week and Zumba class once a week are my most recent attempt to get back in some semblance of shape.  I really love yoga class and the way I feel since starting the class last summer.  I can do a tripod again, something I hadn’t been able to do for decades.  I can’t remember the yoga name for it, but we called it a tripod in school.  A tripod is where you are on your hands and knees.  You lower your head to the mat between your hands, with your arms bent at a right angle, then bring your knees up and place them on your bent arms and balance yourself on your head and hands.  When you get really good, you can move up to a headstand, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.  Since I’ve had such great success doing yoga, I figured I’d branch out and take more challenging classes, like Zumba.  Yeah right.

I’ve had two classes so far, the first with two other women and the second was just me alone with the instructor.  I really like my instructor.  She is the sweetest person.  Young in shape and she says positive things to me.  I stood behind her off to the side so that I could watch her and myself in the mirror.  Big mistake!  I should have just watched her and not me.  Her moves were fluid and in perfect rhythm to the music, while I was stiff, graceless and behind on every move.  She would signal the upcoming move but half the time I was going the wrong direction, doing the move backwards, sideways or not at all.  Basically I suck at Zumba.  Maybe I was wearing the wrong clothes.  A baggy t-shirt and sweats are not especially sexy or hot looking when trying to dance to sultry Latin tunes.  Even the creepy old guy that came to gawk in the doorway took one look at me and ran screaming into the street.

Halfway through the class, as I was sucking air, sweating like a racehorse and becoming even more wooden in my moves, it dawned on me, maybe I should take up kickboxing.  I don’t have to be able to sway my hips in a sexy manner when doing a roundhouse kick.  I think I can do tough, because fluid and rhythm are definitely not in my body’s vocabulary.