Look, I can explain...

This past weekend was hell, or at least as hot as.

Saturday we had several errands to run. We were to drive up to Dayton to attend an auspicious birthday party for our favorite one-year-old boy.  While we were up there we would pick up the old grill that some other friends were gifting to us for free.  And while we were out, we would do some more clean-up at the apartment.  Two out of three of these things required that we make use of SuperVan.  But SuperVan does not have air conditioning.  But we could combine errands.  But no air conditioning. In the end we went for expediency and our faces melted off in the SuperVan.  We did not find out until later that the Cincy area had declared an excessive heat warning.  After I had gaped like a fish because I felt like I couldn't breathe in the oppressively heavy, hot, nasty, icky-sticky passenger seat.  D got a nice headache that he got to keep for the rest of the day.  I don't know if I've ever felt so thoroughly rotten. 

In other news, we still have not caught the groundhog.  The cage sits empty, freshly baited with tomater bits.  The internet, which cannot be trusted implicitly, has all sorts of ideas to get rid of them.  From bubble gum to saving and dumping your own pee around your yard (before your next garden party, ladies!).  The more you surf around trying to find out about the experiences that people have had with g-hogs (sorta rhymes with jihads), the more you see words like "battle" featuring in those experiences.  Like the gardener at Gardening Under the Influence, and at Garden-Share, where they have named their g-hog Khadafi.   

Some nutty people, though I'm sure they are nice people, some nutty people feed them because they think they are cute.  Clear proponents of 'matercide.  Shameful.  

Indoors, D has made headway on the dishwasher cabinet that he and the dad made.  

(before) dishwasher where fridge used to be, all nekkid and stuff.  

(after) wooden cabinet effectively dampens noise, tile laid today by D

I've unpacked a lot of boxes, only to re-box some of them to better organize their contents for storage until winter, or to sell to Half-Priced Books, or to give to Goodwill.  The kitchen is much improved, but somehow there always seems to be one more box with kitchen stuff in it.  Some of this is because moving-time has coincided with time-to-trade-out-super-old-silverware for wedding gift silverware, or to time-to-pare-down-to-one-set-of-cookware.  We sold the washer and dryer on Craigslist.  Now hopefully that paves the way for the dozen more things we need to try to get rid of.  Couches.  Old TV.  And on, and on.  

We haven't been lazy.  No sir, progress is slowing for another reason entirely.

 

um.

So, we kinda brought home a dog?

this is a test.  if this is an actual puppy, there will be an adoption.

There was a dog-rescue group that was set up at Petsmart, looking to get the dogs they'd saved from shelters into nice homes.  And Jack-Jack is a silly name for a dog, we agreed, as we drove him to our house.  But somehow we've ended up sticking with the name Jack for now.  D wanted to name his dog Argos, after the dog in the Odyssey, but he doesn't look like an Argos.  

Actually, D has just told me that he does look like an Argos, but the dog can only keep the name if he stays.  Because you only name the puppy if you plan to keep him.   Which is funny, because this is exactly what I said to my friends when D and I first started dating and they asked his name.

Okay, I know what you're thinking.  Wedding!  House!  Dog?!  Slow down, girl!  Look, this was totally an accidental home visit.  I did not go to Petsmart to pick up a dog.  We went to pick up kitty name-tags and there were puppies in front of the door.  In front of the door by the register. This was practically unavoidable!  

Speaking of kitties, this home visit is one week.  We're gauging how dog and cats interact to see if there is compatability. 

I'm not sure about Yuuki though.

Does he look depressed to you?  

We keep hugging the kitties, and telling them that if they are unhappy we are kicking this mutt to the curb.  So far, they haven't said anything though. I'm trying to keep my eyes open to make sure that our boys aren't feeling overly stressed by the change.  It's hard to tell.  Much change too soon, perhaps.  

We'll let you know.

doggie!

Doggie is fostered with Pardoned Pooches of Cincy.

Moving Day

My parents have been gleefully awaiting the day when I got my own home.  You see, in their basement up north, they have been housing some belongings of mine from when I lived there.  Furniture, family heirlooms, bins full of papers from grade-school to college, my high school band memorabilia, and some things my dad has recently bought for us at garage sales up north.  And so they arrived with smiles on their faces, in an enormous U-haul packed to capacity with so much stuff I was thunderstruck.  This is payback for the decade or so that they stored my stuff in their basement.  Clever vengeance, parents. 

So we basically had two U-haul loads and a van load and we are still not done.  I don’t see how this can happen, because I’m not a shopper.  I don’t have ten thousand purses or a shoe addiction. (Incidentally D has more shoes than I do, I’m just saying)  I've had a book-hoarding problem in the past, yes, because I wanted to be Belle in Beauty and the Beast, and have some gruff fella give me a palatial library.   

(Library of the Benedictine Monastery of Admont, Austria on topdesignmag)

(it looks even more like that dreamy library in this photo) 

But of course, every woman has wanted this.  I'm fairly sure.  And anyway, I'm getting much better.

We worked until my back gave out, which was just about the time that Superdad gave out, and our help's neck went out too.  And then I had a private moment of anxiety as I surveyed the sheer bedlam that had once been my quiet home with beautiful floors.  At present, it’s all boxes and dust and junk, strewn like fugly sprinkles on an otherwise tasty cupcake and its eating my brain.  This shall not stand. 

Anyway, we fed the help pizza from Hyde Park Pizza (thumbs up) and went to the St. Cecilia Festival. 

It was a lovely evening, and there were so many people!  There was a flea market, selling everything from teapots to quilting fabric to vhs tapes.  

Here I have uncovered someone’s formerly beloved cds. Tony Danza, yes, and formerly cutting edge (and perhaps, at one time, inoffensive?) cd-rom games such as “Working Woman Barbie.” 

At the flea market I met a local plant lady whose plants looked so happy and healthy I had to buy a sage, a parsley, and an astilbe.  They look fantastic.  (I will post photos next time, as they are somewhat related to a separate incident) When I told her I was new in town she informed me that every year she has a big sale in May, so I gave her my info to put in her book.  While I was browsing (and almost buying a begonia), some local ladies stopped to buy things and tell her they had been searching for her because they always buy from her every year.  Good to know, and nice to buy local.  And a dollar for a young plant?  You can’t beat that.  There was an auction tent, and D ogled a basset hound puppy that was entered into the auction (her price tag topped $400 before we left, needless to say we do not have a basset hound).  It was a nice escape from our home, which at present makes me feel like a junkslut. 

I bought fried oreos and watched the scarey rides.  

Also, there was, strangely, gambling tents set up for blackjack and other things.  And… I mean, I thought it was a little different but D was totally weirded out by it.  “It’s on the church grounds, this is holy ground.” he insisted.  “It’s the parking lot.” I argued, weakly.

The next day Superdad & D finished building the dishwasher cabinet.  It is so quiet, you cannot hear it unless you are standing in the doorway of the kitchen.  It’s amazing, and it far outshines the auditory performance of the model in our apartment that was dubbed “the Tidal Wave.” 

Photos to come.

Kitty Transport. a New Addition (Question Mark). O-Town foods.

D & I were postponing things and putting off tasks at the new house so that we could go home and check on the cats in the apartment.  We stayed there a few days last week because we felt so bad about leaving them alone. 

Okay, we missed them.  So even though we are only halfway moved from the apartment, we decided to bring the kids to the new house.  So this past weekend, along with some furniture and almost our entire library (minus about sixty lbs of books we sold to Half-Off Books for a pittance (a welcome pittance)), we corralled the kitties and put them in the van.  We wanted to make sure that we had their belongings prepared for them when they were finally unloaded.  The cat tree, the cat bed (which is too small for either of them but they fight over it and the victor curls his body inside like a clown in a teeny car), whatever smelled home-y to them.  We hoped that would make the change less jarring. 

Max is a trooper.  His hero moniker would be Adapta-Cat.  Max's so easygoing, and he likes the cat carrier and car rides.  He just settles in quietly and watches the scenery fly by.  He got to the house and wandered from room to room, his paws tap-tapping on the hardwoods because of the claw-caps we have on him.  The only thing that gives me pause is that he goes down to the basement and begins a litany of MAO MAO MAO, until I go and call him from the top of the stairs.  I wonder if he forgets where he is, or (like the dog in Hyperbole and a Half) forgets how stairs work. 

Yuuki, on the other hand, does not travel well and never has.  He began bleating and panting crazily from the moment he was forced into the cat carrier.  The entire way there his anxiety was giving me anxiety, as his tongue was out like a dog's and his chest was heaving in and out so much I thought he might have a feline heart attack.  He yowled without letting up until we got him into the house, where he promptly settled into his post-travel routine of snobbish mistrust.  He's still startled by every little noise, jolting his entire body, and he's displaying some kitty -uneasyness.  But its only been a day.  I  think he's come through fine. 
--
During the process of moving, D has mentioned several times that he wants to adopt a dog soon-ish.  I've been wary of doing so, beacuse I feel your animals shouldn't outnumber you unless you live on a farm, in which case the mere fact that some animals are taken away and eaten keeps the others in line.  But dogs are so cute, and we could make a habit out of dog walkies, which will be great for our health also, and having a dog helps you to meet your neighbors, and it might help us settle in to the community, and these are doggies that need homes, and he/she could play in the yard, and chase our kitties and ... well just see for yourself:

http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/19757338  Dazzle
http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/19663004 Penny
http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/19831327 Nayla
http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/19831161 Sunday http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/19100044 Murphy
http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/19873310 Madison

It may be somewhat of a challenge because the dog needs to be young enough to settle into a house with pre-existing feline conditions.  And the place needs to be reputable, and have programs that enable us to meet the dog beforehand, or see them interact with cats, or allow us to return the dog to the foster family if problems arise among the kids.  We want to save a dog, but not at the expense of our cats.  We are responsible to them first.

We like programs like Recycled Doggies (http://www.recycleddoggies.org/Available_Dogs.html ugh, what a terrible name).  But we need to do our homework and find a good local source. 
...

Here we are halfway through the moving process, and I totally want to sell my earthly belongings because I'm sick of moving and boxes, and "maybe I'll use that at some unforseen time in the future," etc.  We did reward ourselves with a night out of the house(s) and away from packing/organizing/renovation at Oakley Pub (AMA-ZING stuffed Portabellos, awesome craft beer list) and Aglamesis Brothers.  I think I enjoy the Oakley Pub more than Habits (seemingly better food) and much more than the Oak, because we did not have to go and look for a drink/a server/our food after ten minutes, which has been our experience both times we've tried it.  But maybe its been a fluke both times that we've had to wait a reaaaaaally long time for beers and/or food.  We'll see.