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?

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!

 

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.

 

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.

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. 

 

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?

That Is Not My Coat, Unless It Is My Coat, Then It May Be My Coat

Sometimes I like to act all wifey and take in B's dry cleaning for him. This is usually after he nags me. A lot.  

This was the case recently when B asked me to take his long formal coat in for a dry cleaning. Okay, maybe he asked me the last time he wore it. That would be in the winter. Yes, that season before spring. Ahem.

So I took it in. Eventually I got it out.  The timing of all that is irrelevant to the story. You know what is relevant?  B claimed I came back with a different coat.

I brought his coat home and hung it on our valet in our closet.  It hung there for weeks.  I asked B what he wanted me to do with the coat and he said to put it in the downstairs closet, which I did.  Two days later, I am outside in the garage (hanging out, not working - let's be real), when B came out wondering what I did with his coat:

B: Where's my coat?

Me: In the front closet.

B: No, it's not.

Me: Yes it is. I put it there myself.

B:  NO, IT'S NOT.

Me: Oh, right. Someone came, broke into our house, left no evidence, AND ONLY STOLE YOUR COAT. I forgot.

Then I stalked to the closet and pulled out his coat with a big triumphant swoosh while saying in my head "Voila!".  B then insisted the coat was not his. We both looked at the coat, and I remarked "Um, what?"

Then B started saying a bunch of words all at once. I recall hearing "small claims court," "expensive," "Ralph Lauren," and "you better do something about this."

Too bad I was going out of town for a couple of days. I left B with the unpleasant task of accusing the dry cleaner of swapping his coat for a shorter, lighter and less expensive coat.

However, before that could happen, we revisited the issue. I had convinced B it might be a girl's coat. This struck me as funny.  He decided to try it on. Guess what?

It fit.

And it looked like his coat.

And when I asked him to check inside for a size, guess what he found?

A Ralph Lauren patch on the inside man's pocket.

Guess who didn't go back to the dry cleaners after all?

   

*B would like to say that this blog don't write itself as if he intentionally created the above scenario.

**This occurred before I started writing the blog again, so yeah.


Three years ago today:  Piss and Pine? Sounds Like a Candy...

Memorializing Mutts This Holiday Weekend

Remember that last fall holiday weekend, Labor Day, when our trip to the cottage was almost deterred by B finding a dog, Gus to be exact? I was thinking about that this weekend, another long one, but minus the trip to the cottage. I realized I had not told you about B's latest find.

A couple of months ago, I got the call. You know the one. "I found a dog." This time it was early morning and I was at the office. I immediately started searching the ads for missing dogs matching the description B gave me without any luck.

The dog got the usual - grooming and a vet check. B said the pup was roughed up. He looked like a pit bull and his ears were tore up, there were scars on his face, he was super skinny and there was some issue going on with his tail. Then B said he thought of his friend's family whose dog had recently passed. He was going to have her bring her kids to meet the dog. Everyone at the vet raved about the pup and how sweet he was. I swear, only the sweet ones find B! 

By the time I got off work, the dog now known as Dempsey was happily ensconced in his new home. I admittedly was a bit nervous about the unknown dog and how he would react to the environment. Seems he fit right in. His new home is full of people. There are people and kids coming and going left and right. All of them stopped to love him and tell him how gorgeous he was. I visited him and found out for myself just how beautiful, sweet and happy he was, despite all that he might have gone through. 

The first few weeks were rough. Dempsey has powerful jaws and did not like his crate too much so he just helped himself out of it. They never did get one that could hold him. Luckily, the only thing he did outside of the crate was use the bathroom. Disgusting? Yes. Fixable? Definitely. At least he didn't chew things. 

I am happy to say, it has been a few months now and B reports that Dempsey has gained much needed weight, is housebroken, does well on a leash and his tail seems to be doing better (he was chewing on it instead of the furniture I think). The family loves him and I am sure he shows them he loves them right back. We will count that as another successful rescue by B. Way to go, B!

Hopefully B will get us updated pictures soon!

If You Write It, It Will Come...

Remember when the other day, and I mean LITERALLY the other day, I wrote about how B sold our dining room set right after Christmas and after my casual remark about wanting a new one? Guess what we finally got?  Yes, a "new" dining room. It is like B read my mind. Or my blog.

Do you want a sneak peek?

Of course you want a sneak peek!

That is our new china cabinet. How gorgeous is that? Not the best picture, but I promise when the whole set is in place, I will use a real camera instead of my iPhone. The carving is so beautiful and the wood so heavy. In addition to the china cabinet, there is a long buffet, a table with two leaves and six chairs including two captains chairs.  Larger than the last set, I think it is going to look amazing in our dining room. I am even fond of how it goes with the color-that-was-picked-by-readers-and-then-changed.  

Speaking of the house...there have been other new things added in the past months that you haven't seen.  Keep your eyes peeled for future posts to catch you up.  

As for this addition, the whole set should be here tomorrow.  Then you will get the big reveal.

Stay tuned.

 

These Are the Times to Remember...

Every year, on the first day of the year, I think "this is going to be a GREAT year." That is a true statement. In fact, it is actually a documented statement.  I used to journal. Not in an every day of my life like the long grass man, but I wanted to. Every year I would start off with a brand new journal and inevitably the first page would say "this is going to be a GREAT year."  After that, there are only a few pages, or even none, with writing on them.  

Seriously. Worst journaling ever.

However, the sentiment remains. Even if I don't write it on paper, I think it. And I thought it today. 

This is going to be a GREAT year.  

How do I know?  Well let's look at the greatness of 2011 -

We found Nevada.  Or maybe she found us.  I am not sure who is luckier.

The closet happened.  Then the closet got better.

We saved a dog named Gus and got him a new home (close by too so we can visit!)

We went to Amsterdam. And Paris. And London. Unfortunately, I am behind in photos and only showed you Amsterdam. Maybe in 2012.

And that is just a taste of what the year held for us.  I, for one, cannot wait to see what this year brings.*

Happy New Year - from our house to yours,


 



*Please don't let it be another dog. We are kind of full with the five furballs right now.

Plant, Palmer, and Page: Sounds Like a Rock and Roll Band

The other day B and I were on our way to dinner with friends. B likes to listen to either (a) talk radio or (b) sports. I prefer to listen to neither. Unless it is talk radio. Then I make fun of the callers, even if I have no clue what they are talking about. B loves this.

So on this particular day, B was listening to actual sports. A football game to be exact. I did not think I was listening until I heard the announcer say "Robert Plant just fell on the field" or something like that.  This intrigued me:

Me: Did that guy just say the player's name was ROBERT PLANT?

B: Yes, but it is just his name.

Me: Well, I know.  But now all I can think of are women in black dresses and the player snapping his fingers singing "Simply Irrestible" (Note: I may have sung a verse or two here).

B: What? That's Robert Palmer not Robert Plant.

Me:  That's right. Easy mistake since they were in a band together.

B: WHAT? No they were not.

Me: Um, YES THEY WERE.

B: No. You are crazy.

Me: I am going to look it up.

Me: ...

Me: Huh. I may have been thinking about Robert Page and Robert Plant.

B: Oh. Were they in a band together or something?

Smartass.

 

It Wouldn't Be A Vacation If There Wasn't A Dog to Save

We were getting ready for our family vacation at the cottage at the lake.  Jersey was looking forward to it as we all know she loves the lake. Nevada wasn't sure what a lake was, but if Jersey likes it, she was all in.

We were supposed to go at the Fourth of July, but I had a trial that did not settle until the last minute. One vacation ruined.  This was the last time before fall sets in that we, meaning Jersey (and possibly Nevada), could get some swimming in.  So I took Thursday off to do last minute things like laundry, fix my tire, sleep in.  We were set to leave at 3:30.

Then B called me at 9.  He found a dog.  He told me I needed to find a home for it because he was a very sweet, lovable dog that he refused to take to the shelter. Sound familiar? That is how we described Nevada.

Anyway, since Nevada, I have been trolling around rescue sites and knew very well that I would never surrender a dog to the local pound, as it would probably not make it out alive unless adopted.  So I started networking and networking.

B sent me this picture:

Aren't I a pretty boy? Or should it be handsome?

How could I not want to save that face?  He looked a bit like Jersey. Then there was this picture:

And a good boy!

What a sweetie! So I started putting those two pictures on Facebook everywhere. Even my friends were reposting it.

Then B sent this one:

And a silly boy!

Blurry, but look at that sideways tongue.  How about this one:

And a goofy boy!

Yes he is upside down on someone's foot.

Most no kill shelters and rescues were full.  One awesome rescue stepped up and tried to find a babysitter for at least the time we were gone if we would foster him when we got back. They offered to pay for food, vetting, and anything else we would need including training.  

The problem was finding a babysitter.

We called in reinforcements - my brother. You may remember him from staying with Nevada for a week right after we got her because we were going to Europe. Why do these things always happen at the most inopportune times?

B took the dog for a groom and then brought him home before taking him to the vet for a check up.  First, he was LARGE.  80 lbs it turns out.  Double the size of our dogs.  In fact, our immediate neighbor came out and exclaimed, "Your dog got BIG." Um, she had just seen Jersey the day before. Those are some fast acting steroids.

Second, he was just as sweet in person:

I just want to be petted.

I named him Davison after the street that he was found by. Then during the 40 minutes I spent with him outside which mainly consisted of him flopping down on the ground next to me, rolling over, and staring into my eyes as I scratched his ears and rubbed his belly, I named him Romeo.

We introduced him to Jersey and Nevada.  Nevada decided to show her affection in a naughty way. *Ahem* oral slut *Ahem*.  Romeo wasn't neutered and he thought he would repay her with some affection of his own. Then we separated them. However, he did not mind any dogs, big or small, or even our cats that he accidentally met.

Just as my brother was on his way over, we heard from a neighbor who read about Romeo on Facebook and offered to watch him. By the time she came over to meet him, the "watching" was turning into "perhaps keeping him."  Turns out they were looking for a friend for their dog and Romeo was the right age and size.  She left with him, but not before I took this picture:

And sit pretty.

I am happy to report that Romeo, now named Gus, did great that night in his new home. The neighbors took him to be neutered and it was determined that he had heartworms. They are paying for that treatment and the vet expects him to make a full recovery.

Davison/Romeo/Gus stole everyone's hearts and B and I were so happy he found a home. We checked on him via Facebook all weekend. He even stole my brother's heart who insists that Gus will "always be Jake" to him.

Happy Tails, Gus!  

*B affectionately called this my first rescue. I think our execution needs a little help. My parents are just glad we didn't decide to add him to our brood.