About a year and a half ago, I was woken up at 4 in the morning by the sounds of Jasper thrashing around in my bedroom. I quickly turned the light on to see what was going on and found him lying in the corner of the room, panting and looking slightly…bewildered at whatever had just happened. I reached out my hand to pet him and comfort him and, right while he was laying there, he had an accident on the floor. The incident was a bit troubling, but I kind of shrugged it off as a bad puppy dream and didn’t think anything of it. I got ready and went to work that morning, and mentioned it to my supervisor, who said, “It sounds like he had a seizure. Has that happened before?”
Last month I went to NYC with a group of local Twitter friends. We spent the day at MoMA, we did a little sight-seeing, we dined al fresco in Little Italy (followed by the best gelato I ever had), and ended the night in an Irish pub. I had a great time, especially because I knew I didn’t have to worry about rushing home to take care of Jasper, since he was spending time at my parent’s house.
I got my Christmas tree Saturday morning, and for the first time in six Christmases in this house I succeeded in buying a tree that A:) took less than 15 minutes to find, and B:) does not take up half my living room. I have a tendency to fall in love with trees that are 8 feet tall and 5 feet wide, and in a 900 square foot home that’s asking for trouble.
I’ve really scaled back on the decorations in the house this year. I think it’s a combination of being tired of the both the type of decorations I have (very country Christmas-ish; I’m over it), and the amount of decorations I own (wayyyy too many; I’m also over the clutter). I’ve shelved a good 75% of my stuff, and bought just a couple new things to mix it up. I didn’t want to spend too much money on something as frivolous as new Christmas decorations. That is, after all, what the day after Christmas is for. Ahem.
Anyway, back to the tree. Since I bought the smaller tree, I needed fewer ornaments. This is a shame, since my ornaments are ridiculousy adorable and thus need to be seen.
A Christmas cupcake? Oh, for cute.
Seriously. A bulldog puppy? Seriously.
Yes, that is Bugs Bunny and the monster (his name, btw, is Gossamer). That’s probably my favorite.
That picture is terrible, and I apologize. But LOOK HOW CUTE. It even plays THE SONG. The cuteness, it cannot be denied.
Pssh. Please. Like you didn’t see this coming. I need to stay out of Target before Christmas, because every year they inevitably have new Hello Kitty ornaments, and if I’m not careful I’ll end up with a very Hello Kitty Christmas.
WAIT A MINUTE.
Kidding. Kind of.
Anyway, here’s my tree, in all its glory, and my dog, totally not giving a rat’s ass:
Dear Canine Resident at (address redacted), Allentown, PA:
It has come to management’s attention that recent actions and activities in which you have taken part are in direct violation to the residence and cohabitation contract you entered into in April of 2004.
Upon agreement of said contract, it was management’s responsibility to provide the shelter, food, and water necessesary, with additional needs such as bathing, grooming, walks, and veterinary visits included on a strictly as-needed basis.
Not exclusive to contract were fringe benefits such as treats, belly rubs, ear scritches, and couch time. During initial negotiations management agreed to forgo the need for Snuggle Time directly related to Resident’s ‘Good Boy’ status, seeing as Resident was initially and continually resistant to said Snuggle Time.
However, in light of recent incidents in which Management’s living room carpet has been used as a restroom, Management has deemed it necessary to remind you of your ‘Good Boy’ obligations, wherein it is your responsibility to conduct your Important Business outside the Residence. To facilitate the carrying on of Important Business outside the Residence, Management has agreed to participate in additional outings and longer walks.
Should Resident continue to befoul the inside of the Residence, Management will have no course but to help Resident find other accomodations, perhaps at (address redacted) in the Poconos, PA.
Thank you for your kind and prompt attention to this matter.
Management, (address redacted), Allentown, PA.
Kindly suck it.
Subject: Fun Night
Hey momma. It’s 9pm and Jasper and I are just getting home, I didn’t want to call and bug you. Cindy’s sons’ band was playing a small outdoor show in downtown Bethlehem – they call it Tunes at Twilight – and I went tonight. I took ‘the boy’ because I knew he was cooped up in the house all day and I felt bad about leaving him, plus downtown is very puppy friendly – some places even have water bowls outside – so I figured we’d give it a try…worst we’d have to do is turn around and go home.
My friend Cheryl met us and we listened to the band awhile – we even saw a few people from work. Jasper was very popular – lots of people petting him and saying how pretty he was! He was very good for the most part – he only really ‘met’ one other doggy there, named Spike (Big doggie!), they sniffed each other for a bit, then Jasper backed off (the pussy, ha ha). The kiddos that were around didn’t really bother him – if they wanted to see him they all asked first, and I just said, “Thanks for asking, sorry, but he’s just not that friendly with kids.” And they were ok with it, didn’t bug him or anything, plus if there was a little kid close by he pretty much walked away from them.
After we listened to the band awhile, Cheryl and I were hungry for dinner, so we walked up to the Brew Works and sat down outside to eat – we split onion rings (beer battered, with a Parmesan peppercorn dipping sauce, yum), and I had a spinach and strawberry salad with toasted almonds, goat cheese, and an orange vinaigrette. Oh my goodness so good. I’m so going to make that at home! Best part is Cheryl insisted on paying because of all the cooking I do when they come over here (score). I gave her money for tip, though. I didn’t want to be a total mooch.
Jasper was…okay during dinner. I got a bowl and poured some water in it, and I had treats with me, but every once in a while he’d bark at people walking by. It just got a little…embarassing. I felt like he was disrupting people’s meals…now I know how people with screaming little ones feel in public! But again, even at dinner, people just kept coming up and petting him, and saying how soft he was and how pretty and how they couldn’t believe that he was over ten years old.
The little attention whore ate it up.
But we’re home now, and he’s passed out on my feet. It was nice to get out, and such a nice night, too.
Talk to you soon.
The beauty of an eat-in kitchen is in the name: You can eat. In your kitchen. There’s room to cook and serve a meal. And when you renovate said eat-in kitchen, there’s enough space to move all your shit to one side of the room while you work on the other.
And that’s what I’ve been living with for the past week. Everything from the countertops was pushed onto my table and everything in the drawers was put in a box and dumped unceremoniously in the living room.
And that’s how I was living with my kitchen for over a week. I dealt with it, but my latent OCD was thisclose to making me flip the fuck out.
Saturday, we didn’t make a huge amount of progress, but finished painting all the cabinets and doors, and finished sanding, priming and painting the ‘kitchen’ half of my kitchen. So that’s all done, which enabled me to move everything back onto the countertops and off my table, which allowed me to breathe again. The twitching and the voices stopped, too, so, you know, bonus.
We tried to get the doors hung back on the cabinets, but alas, as it always goes when I attempt a home improvement project, it turns out I bought the wrong effing hinges. I’ve sinced returned the wrong effing hinges to the hinge store and proceeded to purchase the correct effing hinges, but have not attempted to hang my cabinet doors back up due to my inability to screw in or nail anything in a straight line.
So I continue to live like this, with my freak doorless cabinets, wide open for the world to see.
At least I’ve got one door up. (I had to make sure I actually did buy the correct hinges and that they worked correctly. You should have seen me trying to hang this damn door. There were quite a few sons of bitches in my kitchen the other night, and it’s TOTALLY THE DOORS’ FAULT.)
Why, no, I don’t think I have a ‘problem’ at all.
“I do. I’m so over this shit. I can haz Snausages nao?”
Coming up this weekend: Picking out granite at the remnant sale (SQUEEE!), actually making a fucking decision re: the new flooring, and, whattayaknow, more painting! Huzzah!