I Only Want It If It Is Exquisite

It was probably the worst day and time to go to the post office. Just a few weeks before Christmas, prime mailing time. It was also 1:00. Everyone though that was a good time. It was not a good time. In fact, it was right smack in the middle of the worker's lunch so there was only one cashier to assist the ever growing line.

I had no choice. My swap buddy needed her gift and I had sold some DVDs that I can only presume were going to be Christmas presents.  So I waited along with everyone else.

Midway to my destination, I noticed the guy in front of me and took a really good look at him.  He was wearing dress slacks, a mid length black leather coat, a hat that was somewhere between a cowboy hat and a fedora, and rose colored glasses.  

He also had nothing in his hands whatsoever.

Unusual as most people had multiple packages and envelopes in our hands and we were all trying to figure out where to set them down to ease our burdens.  So I wondered why the man in front of me was there.* Finally, we reached our destination and he was next.  He stepped up to the counter and very quietly and with great concentration said:

"I would like one exquisite stamp."

While I tried to wrap my head around why someone would wait in line for almost an hour, the cashier tried to find him an exquisite stamp:

"How about this one?"

"Nope."

"This one?"

"Nope."

He eliminated them all until none were left and finally settled on one.  Then he wanted to pay his 42 cents or whatever and take one stamp.  After much debate, he was told he would have to buy the whole book and that he could not, in fact, have just one exquisite stamp.

I guess you can't always get what you want, especially if it is exquisite.

Here's hoping you got everything you wanted today and throughout the year!

Merry Christmas,
Peace and Love,

 

Labor of Landscaping a/k/a If You Have It, Hedge It!

What did you do this Labor Day?  I had five whole days off. We were supposed to go to the cottage, but sadly, that was not to be.  Doesn't matter because B also had three whole days off. He hasn't had three whole days off since he started back up to work in the spring. Can you imagine getting up every day before five, seven days a week? Neither can I.  B doesn't imagine it, he does it.  Crazy.

So the Friday of Labor Day weekend was B's first day off. I gladly got up with the dogs before 5 to feed them and headed back to bed. Since I am narcoleptic, I can fall asleep quickly. B, meanwhile, slept in and then headed to the gym. He was home less than a few minutes when he told me he was off to the nursery. He wanted to do some landscaping.

He is nuts! Is your first thought on your day off to do hard labor? Not me.  What if the hard labor you were about to do is so similar to what you do at work that you might as well be at work?  That man is nuts.

In other news he planted some shrubs* in the area that you used to be beautiful and full of flowers, but was now full of dirt and dog prints.  The area is the take off point for the dogs and their zoomies around the yard.  It is also a fan favorite for digging holes and pushing balls under fences to just sit their and whine that the ball is on the other side of the fence.

So pretty. So precise.

Look at all of that green!

I am hoping they grow tall and block some of the neighbor's patio.
More for their sake than ours. Nosy dogs!

While I still think B is nuts in his love of labor, I really do appreciate the fruit of his labor.**

      




*I learned that these are NOT bushes. They are shrubs. All shrubs are not bushes and all bushes are not shurbs. Or something like that. I stopped listening. 

**Is it just me or does that sentence sound kind of gross?

Book It, Barrister!

I have been obsessed with barrister bookcases for quite some time. All I kept telling B is how much I love bookcases, barrister bookcases. He must have been listening because he started scouring estate sales for them. He found quite a few.  Sometimes we would even head to one, hoping it would still be there (especially on half off day), but the bookcases were always sold.

Imagine my surprise when I came home one night and found this in the living room casually leaning against the wall:

My beautiful barrister book case

So gorgeous! I asked B about this new addition and he told me he finally found one at an estate sale that hadn't been sold and actually got a good deal on it. He was excited to find out that every piece is removable so you can make it shorter.* However, I like it just the height it is.  Plus, the removed pieces cannot form another bookcase without a bottom, so they would just have to go into storage.

I also told B that I loved the bookcase right where it initially landed. This spot originally held a fish tank as seen here.  Since that tank is no longer with us, that spot has been empty for a while.  I love seeing this in its space.  It seems to complete the room.  

This is one of B's best finds although honestly I love them all.


     

*I later found out that all barrister bookcases have removable pieces hence the beauty of them. When a lawyer ran out of space, they could just order another piece. The more you know...** 

**Thanks for the knowledge, Dad.

Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits

I thought I would share another piece of furniture that is sharing space in the dining room with our new dining room furniture.  

This piece came from my childhood home, which we recently bought (more on that later).  In that house, it sat in our very tiny vestibule as soon as you entered.  It became a haven for keys, mail and various other random things thrown down there.  You can tell this by how much the main part is dinged up.  While my parents were cleaning out the house, they discovered they really did not have room for this, but my Mom did not want to get rid of it. I generously offered to store it for her. Aren't I so sweet?*

I seem to recall my Dad telling me this was an old barber shop piece. The little knob below the mirror, opens up a folding down type storage area. There is a drawer underneath the main part and then a cupboard at the bottom. I would envision this in an old time barbershop with a strap to sharpen the razors hanging on the side.

The title comes from another little Dad-ism.  My Dad always had a unique knock. When we asked him about it, he said it was based on the singsong phrase, "Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits."  I always thought that this was based on old time barber shop prices. Apparently, it is recently based in music and is a common riff at the end of a musical performance for comedic relief.  I later found out my Dad was a drummer. It all started coming together then.

Also, two bits is equal to a quarter.

I need a shave!

The more you know.
   




*I may not give it back :)

Can I Interest You in a Little Fine Dining or at Least the Furniture to Do So?

Remember back in May when I informed you I lost my dining room set when B took my offhand comment super seriously? Well, just as I thought we would never have a place to store our once a year dishes and platters, it was B to the rescue once again.

As this set is so amazing, I have almost forgiven B for forcing me to relocate things into our way too small kitchen.  Almost.  This is Jacobian furniture which, from what I understand from GTS*, is the form furniture took during the Renaissance in England. Yes, our furniture is THAT old. Or based on ideas that old. Whatever.

This picture doesn't do the size justice, but B informed me that he didn't want to take a straight
on picture because then he would be in it through the mirror. So camera shy, that one.

This is our buffet. B may or may not have broke it immediately upon trying to move it.
It has super heavy drawers and is awesome.

This is the china cabinet.  It is also awesome and now holds all of our glasses.  It also is a haven for cats trying to escape dogs.  

You can see the carved detail in the chair and buffet. This is my favorite shot.
Good job B!

Closer shot of the cabinet.

Up close to the buffet.

This set is ever way huger than it looks because there is a leaf. And by a leaf I mean the top of the table lifts up and goes between two extenders. The whole top of the table is a leaf. One day I am going to make B do that again and put all of the chairs we got with it to show you just how regal this set really looks.

I actually like the table with all 6 chairs around it, but it makes it kind of crowded and one chair may or may not be in the midst of repair as well.  

We got this set for a very reasonable price.  Thereafter, my friend whom I stole the trash chair from got a very similar site at an even better price. I might hate her now. The jury is still out on that one.

Also, you will notice the glass on top of every piece. The set did not come like that. B brilliantly stole the idea from our neighbor. With three cats with three sets of back claws and the never ending desire to launch off of our furniture with said claws, the furniture is grateful for B's idea, as am I.

It's the little things.

   




*Google That Shit, or in this case, Googling That Shit

I Chair You to Say This Doesn't Look Better

It has been forever since we got the chair that came with out house upholstered, but I am finally getting around to the grand unveiling.

Thankfully, I got my local photographer a/k/a B on the job. He took many wonderful photos of all of the furniture I am supposed to catch you up on here.  You can thank him for the next couple of posts.

Let's start with The Chair. Remember The Chair? The one the former owners left behind that was all chewed up and ugly? The one I said had good bones?  Here is a picture of it in its original state to refresh your recollection:

Good lines. All chewed up.

Look at it now in its magnificent glory:

Good lines. Gorgeous fabric. So pretty.

The people that upholstered it, fell in love with as did I.  I think this was a wise piece to keep. Now, you can even sit in it without thinking your ribs will be cut by an arm.

Ooohh...

Ahhh....

Posting these pictures makes me excited to get the other New Chair going. I will have to get B on that!

 

Does the Shrieking Sound Alarm You? It Should.

It was a normal day at the office. I was busy impressing a client with some antiquated legal jargon when I heard the distinct sound of the office fire alarm.  I very calmly said "Client, I will have to call you back. The office is on fire."  

I then picked up my cell phone, my car keys and my purse and walked right out of the office.  You know who did not follow me? Oh, everyone else.  They all insisted it was a false alarm.  No one called to say it was a false alarm.  No one turned off the shrieking sounds.  So I headed out the door.  When questioned at the front door if I was "really" going, I replied:

"I am not burning in this hell hole, bitches. Peace out!"

I am so professional.  

The real question is, did they forget the great fire of March 2011. I sure didn't. One electrical fire, one freezing my ass off in the parking lot while waiting to see if we were ever getting back in was enough.  So what did I do?

Went outside in the rain with an umbrella freezing my ass off while waiting to see if we would ever get back in.

Despite the five police cars and one huge fire engine, it turns out it was a false alarm. Someone allegedly sprayed something at the sensor. What? I don't even know where the sensors are and aren't they only supposed to sense SMOKE? So confusing. I suspect it was the place that employs the hackysackers.  It just has to be.

In other news, an attorney stayed behind because she wanted to finish a brief.  I told her I would put that on her gravestone.  "Will burn for work."

Then I called my client back.


 

Nice House, Can I Take Your Trash?

So one of my coworkers whom I happen to like just bought a house. This excites me because we already bought our house and redid everything. Sure, there is more to do, but absent a large renovation (LAST on the list), it is not the same as that initial thrill.

So B and I went to check out her place. Also, built in the 20s, it has a lot of the same charm that ours does.  My friend, however, is a tad bit more modern so it will be interesting to see what she does with it.  There are some unusual things there too like the fact that she can only get central air on the first floor. Is that even central? No clue. Also the creepy former coal chute that is big enough to bury a body, or seven. Seriously, I felt like I was in an episode of American Horror Story and that creepy creature in the basement was coming out to get me.  

This, my friends, is not the most exciting part! You knew that, right? The most exciting part was as we left we saw the trash pile that the former owners left that very day in front of the house. Whatever did we find? A chair! Yes, a chair that made B pause and point it out. Then we had to sit in it. Then we had to trash pick it and put it in our truck. 

Similar to the old chair left behind in our house by our house's former owners (yes, it finally got reupholstered, no I have not shared the photos yet), this one had GOOD LINES.  That is all I kept saying. I will have you know, though, that when B took the chair from our house to the upholsterers, that is exactly what they said. I may not know what I am talking about, but somehow I am right.

So what do you think of the chair a/k/a our future piece of fine furniture?

Look at those lines! Yes, I realize this is just a bare bone skeleton of a chair, but can you imagine what it will look like when it is reborn? Yes, I just used the word "reborn" while talking about a chair.

Yes we sat in a chair that only had springs on it and it was actually quite comfortable as is. That is what sold me.

And the back view:

I am almost as excited about this chair as S is about her house. Well, maybe more.  Perhaps I will one day show you the finished product of our chair.  

Stay tuned.

 

I See Your Barf Bag and Raise You a Bloody Napkin

Did you hear about the woman who was forced to stay on a flight for 10 hours while sitting next to a corpse the entire time? If not, you should read it here.  Her story reminded me of my story that, although it did not involve a corpse, came pretty close.

I am actually referencing # 11 on this list.  It was on a flight back from #1 on that same list.  My coworker and I were on a return flight from Vegas. We were in a three seat row with I on the end, my coworker "S" in the middle, and unknown passenger by the window.  At first, it started off fine. One of our seminar speakers sat down. Boring as he may have been, it would have made our flight a lot more bearable if he had stayed put. Unfortunately, he was traveling with his wife and wanted to sit next to her. So, when her seat mate showed up, I asked if they could switch seats, being the nice person that I am. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 1.

New guy immediately sat down, put his head against the window and passed out. He reeked of alcohol and looked disheveled.  S was not amused. We took off and all seemed to go well although we kept a worried eye on Drunk Guy. Within 20 minutes, Drunk Guy jumped up, yelled "I HAVE TO GO TO THE RESTROOM" which spurred me into such immediate action, I spilled my drink.  He then proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes in the bathroom banging around.  S was SO not amused.  

He came back, sat down and grabbed a barf bag.  I warned S. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 2.  She basically started sitting in my lap in order to avoid being thrown up on. While this was occurring, I realize Drunk Guy has a bloody nose and is wiping it with the barf bag.  I immediately tell S to watch out for wayward body fluids. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 3.  Now S is over my lap and in the aisle declaring that she cannot and WILL not sit next to the guy. They have to move him to some other part of the plane. Panic has set in.

After assuring her that there was no secret place on the plane to put a grown drunk man, I come up with a solution - we switch seats.  All this does is manage to calm her growing panic. However, we spent the next three hours half perched in our seats looking warily at drunk guy expecting the worse.  Any idea how uncomfortable that is? Hugely.

Good news! Drunk guy never puked next to us. In fact, he never moved again.  Bad news! He continued to bleed all over himself until such time as I offered him a napkin. He was down to wiping it on his coat collar.  Sexy!

I learned a lot that flight.  First class is always a better option. You might still have a drunk as a seat mate, but you will have more room. Also, know your coworkers and their phobias before you go on 3 hour plane rides with them. 

I can only hope Drunk Guy learned something too.

Doubtful.



 

Meet Bert!

Meet Bert!  You will remember him from the Fourth of July post where I coyly, or not so much, slid his picture in.

Bert is new to the pack. I won't say he is replacing Chester because no one could replace Chester.  However, he is filling a void that has been there since Chester has been gone.

B stumbled upon Bert's picture on Facebook.  All that we could see was his little panda face.  That was enough to capture B's heart. He went off to meet Bert.  

Bert was born on the street and living under a porch.  Some nice people trapped him and another nice woman kept him in her bathroom for a week trying to get him to acclimate to living in a house and to people in general.  We give mad props to her for that week because even though he came to us hissing, he quickly warmed up and we think it is because she spent so much time with him.

Not much is known about Bert after these few weeks. He has stopped hissing at us and reserves that usually for the dogs (who he swiped and spit at right away a la Chester style and now they fear all 3 lbs of him), or for B when he startles him out of sleep. To be honest, sometimes I feel like hissing at B when he wakes me, but that is another story.

Bert likes eating. The face above is what he looks like after he eats or, apparently, when he wants to eat B for taking too many pictures.

Most unique feature about Bert is that he only has black on his face, the back of his left paw and all up and down his back. Doesn't he look like someone dipped him in some paint?

Bert has brought another dynamic to the house. Brad is happy to have a friend. Even Mooch seems calmer like maybe he doesn't think that we are out to rid the place of all cats.  The dogs are intrigued, but scared.

I think Chester is smiling down and, perhaps, proud that his spirit lives on in Bert.






*Bert was named after the street he was found on, Liberty.

How YOU Doin? And Other Creepy Things to Say to People

Remember when Joey from Friends would say this all the time and the girls would fall for it, but when other every day people said it, it sounded creepy? Or when men 20 years later still try to say it? Or when I just used it in my title?

So creepy.

That is not the only way to be creepy, however.  I recently found out that I am quite capable of being unintentionally creepy. Unfortunately, I found this out at the office.

You see, we had a bunch of new people start recently. I decided to be proactive and introduce myself to them as I encountered them as no one seemed to be walking them around for introductions.  So I walked up to a young lady, roughly 20 or so, and intended to say "nice to meet you" and "welcome aboard."  Instead, the following occurred:

Me: Hi! I don't think we have met. I am me.

A: Hi. My name is A.

Me: NICE...

Me: Welcome aboard.

You know what a dragged out NICE sounds like without a "to meet you" after it? CREEPY. Even I was creeped out! Yes, I even unintentionally creeped myself out.

I quickly tried to explain what I was trying to say and thought to myself that it wasn't at all as bad as I imagined.  That is, until one of my support staff said "Well, THAT was creepy."

Signing off as the unintentionally creepy stalker person at work,

 

Four for the Fourth for You

The girls and boys wanted to show you their patriotic side this Fourth of July. This post is so late because it took me that long to get their d@$& pictures!

Mooch is last because he was the hardest. He had no less than 12 takes.  I envisioned the cats would sit nicely and stare at the camera. Clearly, I was delusional.

If you are wondering who that cat in the middle is, stay tuned.

For now, I sign off to either the sound of fireworks or gun shots. At this point I am unsure.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone!

 

It Appears You May Have Lost a Limb or Two...

You know the neighbor behind us, the long-grassed man? B is holding a bit of a grudge against him. It is not because he has long grass, or because he likes to journal his entire life,or sit outside and do teleconferences and teach classes from his computer, or because he used his grass as a storage unit for months on end. It is not even because he puts his composter right at our fence line.

It is his tree.

He has this old tree that is impinging on our property line and interfering with our ability to replace the fence. And we really want to replace the fence.

With a privacy fence.

Nevada loves the tree. It is a mulberry tree and all of these mulberries fall into our yard. Nevada eats them like she has never been fed.  B loves this.

The tree also has enormous branches that are hanging all over the wires. So B called the electric company, oh, about a few months ago. They finally got around to coming to deal with it this weekend.  I can say that the branches are no longer interfering with their lines.  I can't say they are not interfering with anything else. I also cannot give props to a job well done because, well, take a look yourself:

And then look a little closer:

That does not look at all ridiculous does it?  You will note that the majority of the tree is STILL hanging over into our yard. Nevada is relieved. More mulberries for her. YAY.  B just wants the tree gone. I just think this is the stupidest thing I have ever seen. Seriously, I am dumbfounded.

Look at that tree!

So, B's new plan is for me to charm the long-grassed man into removing the tree. Right...we all know how that worked with the neighbors and the air conditioning, right?

Just how high can a privacy fence go anyway?

 

It's Always a Barrel of Laughs for B

The other day when I arrived home, B was kind enough to open the fence for me. As I passed I asked him to check to see if there was a dent in my bumper.

B: Why would there be a dent in your bumper?

Me: Oh. I couldn't remember if I was in an accident this morning or not.

B: WHAT?

You see, that morning I was driving along the freeway I heard the distinct crunch of a plastic bumper. I looked up to see the guy behind me and the guy behind him pulling off to the side and wondered briefly if I was involved. I did not remember being jolted or feeling it occur.  

Then I promptly forgot until I was driving by B.

However, what makes the above scenario that much more ridiculous is that it was not the first time we had such a conversation in the past couple of weeks. Let's rewind, shall we?

~couple weeks prior~

While sitting in our screened-in back porch, I suddenly remembered to ask B:

Me: Hey! Check the front right end of my truck to see if it has orange paint on it.

B: Why would it have orange paint on it?

Me: Maybe, I hit some barrels?

Oh, I hit some barrels.  Let's just say it involved a bit of misjudgment on my part as to the speed of the car ahead of me, the tenancity of the semi truck next to me and my ability to slow down/stop on a dime.

Let's just say that maybe three barrels lost their life.

Let's just say I may have been completely mortified at having to stop at the side of the raod until I could get things under control.

I will say, though, there was no orange paint.

 

And Then I Rescued a Dog That Was Not in Need

So the other day I thought I was a hero. You see, I rescued a dog. Me! Not B, but me! Me!

I was driving to meet my family for breakfast when I noticed a small Yorkie in the grass by the road. I waited a minute to see if there was an owner nearby.  When one didn't appear, I rounded the corner and got out of my car. 

The dog was excited to see me and she had tags.  What a score, I thought! I can just quickly return her to her owners. Unfortunately, there were no owner info on the tags, only shot info and she appeared to be very far from home. I scooped her up and off we went.

She had no chip when scanned by the vet.  They called her vet, but it was closed for another half hour. I decided to take her home to get her some water. It was then that my neighbor pulled up and said "THANK GOD!"

It was his father's dog that he was watching.

I "rescued" my neighbor's dog.

Rescue fail.

How was I supposed to know? Well, in that moment of revelation, a few things collided in my mind at once:

• B told me the neighbor was watching his dad's dog and that Nevada was obsessed with it, but when I asked him what kind he only said "small."
• My neighbor was out when I left the house in his backyard.
• The dog was on his property outside the backyard.
• I briefly thought about asking the neighbor if he knew whose dog it was, but just figured it was too far from home for him to know.

Lesson learned?  Only dogs that do not need help will approach me. 

 

Wordless Wednesday: What? I Am Just Resting on This Pillow

And On the Seventh Day, She Rested a/k/a Garage Sale Hangover

Garage sales are hard.

Garage sales sound like a good idea.

Garage sales are exhausting.

They are also a people watching dream come true.  Here are some examples of what I saw and can remember:

• The guy who wanted to tell us how to place our signs, how we were losing "half of our customer base" due to which way the sign was facing, and how our signs were failing to do their job. When asked how he found out about the sale? "I followed a sign."
• The scary looking man who was swinging a sword around and testing a rifle by aiming it at the sky. He looked insane and I fully expected to have the federal government declare a code orange on our sale. Note: Gun was NOT loaded and no ammunition was nearby.
• Same scary man paid for a $15 item with $12 in cash and $3 in change.
• Then he bought something for a $1 in quarters in dimes.
• Then he pulled out pennies for an old hammer.
• Then he asked if he could use the hammer as a tenderizer.
• Then he said he would just chuck the hammer and run.
• The woman who wanted to buy everything for 10 cents no matter what it was marked for.  She would tell me how much less it was priced at the store and I would tell her to get over to the store and get it.
• She also wanted to have the last word - "have a good day. YOU have a good day" and so on.  When she said see you next year, I seriously considered not only NOT having a garage sale, but actually moving.
• The guy who came both days on his bike and asked for a glass of ice water.

Also, my mother is too kind hearted to have a garage sale and I am not sure she understands how it works despite the numerous ones we have attended ourselves. (LOVE  YOU MOM).  She:

• Bought a high ticket item from our sale despite my assertions that THAT IS NOT ALLOWED.
• She wanted to loan a stranger $2 to buy something else.
• When a woman broke one of a collection of 5 cups, she wanted to give her the rest free because she felt bad.

Also.  People will return to ask about an item they didn't buy. They will do this at 11:00 a.m. the next day when you are not having a garage sale. You will be in your pajamas wondering who is at the door.  You will only answer because you see a baby stroller and think it is a neighbor. It will be the lady that broke something and whom your Mom felt bad about. She will feel bad and have pondered all night about the beauty of the remainder of the set. You will not have the heart to tell her you donated all leftovers. You will tell her it sold.  For A LOT OF MONEY.

Maybe Mom does know best.

Also, for what we made, I estimate we each averaged $.50 an hour in wages.

I quit.

 

Girls Just Want to Put Their Foot in Their Mouths

Is anyone watching the show Girls on HBO? No? You should. Like right now. Stop reading this blog, go on demand it and you will be caught up in no time.  Seriously. They are only half hour episodes (in HBO land, that is roughly 22-27 minutes).  Once you are done, report back here immediately and go on to the next paragraph.

Okay. Caught up? So Girls is an awesome show mostly because it is awkward. At first B made fun of me for watching it. Then he declared the main character "awful." Now he deserts me in mid conversation to "go watch an episode of Girls." Yes, I can hear him laughing all the way upstairs.

You still haven't watched it, have you? Shame.

Watch this clip:

and this one:

Well, I had my own Girls moment the other day at work.  I will let you be the judge:

Girls episode:*

Guy: Open your eyes...surprise! 

Girl: Gasp

Guy: Do you like it? (pointing to lack of hair on his head)

Girl: No, I don't f'g like it! It looks like $hit!

Guy: I did it for Cathy.

Girl: Who the f$ck is Cathy?

Guy: The woman at work who has cancer.

Girl: Oh, great! Now I look like the a$$hole.

Dani's life:

Dani: G, what happened to your hair?

G:  I shaved it on Friday.

Dani: Oh, good. I thought you were going to tell me you had cancer cause you look like you have cancer.

G:  Actually, my friends and I all shaved our heads for our friend who has cancer.

Guess who looks like the a$$hole now?

 



*Sadly no clip for this awesome scene can be found.


**B also says the main character, Hannah, reminds me of him.  To which I responded: 
Me: Gasp!
Me: Wha...?
Me: How?
Me: Wha...?
and he responded:
B: See above story.

Wordless Wednesday: Is That a Cat on Your Back?