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.

The Thief in the Nighttime

I woke up in a crappy mood this past Saturday morning (moving day), sore from the mini-moving frenzy Friday night, wherein D & I had thrown things in boxes and gotten a full load in the SuperVan, but still had so much crap left at the apartment that it boggled the mind.  I was grumbly and irritable, because I knew the day that stretched before me would be more of the same, tote that load lift that bale, up and down the stairs. 

I put on the coffee and then went outside to enjoy the deck (because drinking coffee on a deck in the morning in suburbia can be everything you dream and more). 

I didn’t even sit down before I saw that the tomato plant gifted to us by D’s father had been savaged.  Damaged leaves and sheared off stalks were strewn around.  Up until then, I had been eagerly watching the little green fruits on the vine, waiting patiently (not *patiently* exactly) for the day they would turn red.  Of course, all of the little green fruits were gone.  I was speechless.  I took in the rest of the scene to see if we had had any other losses.  The  pot full of stillborn basil was on its side (nothing to damage there, the seeds never came up).  The cilantro that ahd fried to a crisp was … well, it was still crispy, so we were good there.  The jade plant had many leaves around it, looking just terrible compared to a few days ago.  And then I saw the worst of it. 

To give you some background, D and I had given succulents as favors at our wedding.  I had ordered a hundred of them from EBAY, and  they came individually saran wrapped and taped and wrapped with wet (well formerly wet) paper towels.  It was time consuming to unwrap them without disturbing the itty bitty plants, but one by one I unwrapped and potted a hundred succulents.  Half myself, half with the help of very patient friends.  Each one was an adorable little surprise, and every time I opened another I would squeal or coo and gush over how cute it was, and how this is the one I wanted to keep.  But I only kept one for myself.  It seemed to be a sickly looking echevria, but it had since rebounded and turned into, not an echevria, but something called “baby necklace.” 

So there I stood, with my coffee, stockstill on the deck, looking into the pot where the succulent should have been and was not.  (And see the basil?  The basil should not have been there, but it was.  But I had known that before that morning, it's just a funny juxtaposition)  No matter how hard you look at this photo, the succulent is just not there.  And that's how it was that morning.  I looked, and then looked harder.  Squinting in fact.  I actually poked around the dirt where it should have been, seeing if it had been sucked under, like in the movie Tremors.  But it was nowhere. 

I'm the type of person who's slightly an idiot first thing in the morning, so I went and got D, who was also sore and in a bad mood, and showed him the scene on the deck.  He nodded sagely.  I had recently read two blogs dealing with thefts out of people's gardens (@ Apartment Therapy and Life on the Balcony) , and so made the mental leap in logic, asking if someone had stolen our tomatoes and my succulent.  He shook his head (he's used to me being slightly slow in the morning), and said “it looks like we have a racoon,” and he went back inside.  I myself finally sat down on the deck and had a little cry.  The tomato doesn’t look like its going to make it.  The sun’s been really unforgiving, and the heat is just curling the leaves.  The plant was so beautiful, and I feel like an ogre because it’s going to die in our care, but mostly because some effing rodent brutalized my ‘mater, and stole my baby’s necklace! 

Now my garden (my contribution) consists of a pot with no succulent, (but mysteriously it has basil sprouts that I did not plant there; I planted them in the other pot.  Because there used to be a succulent there).   A pot of to-die-for smells-like-heaven sage.  The pot that I actually put the basil seeds in is empty.  The pot with fried-to-a-crisp cilantro.  And the giant pot with the assaulted tomato.  A pot of new, happy astilbe (must plant).  A pot of new, mostly happy parsley. 

And a trap for a dirty rotten thief.

Yesterday I saw the thief himself, having returned to the scene of the crime.  He was strolling off of the deck,  bold as brass, with a saucy little waddle to his walk.  This teenage mutant ninja groundhog had just taken another bit off of the 'mater.  I spread some bloodmeal around, which the internet tells me is supposed to be exceedingly gross to varmint sensabilities.  Put some in poor Mr. 'mater's pot too.  Fingers crossed.  But D & I agree, because there's work to be done this summer that involves ripping up some boards in the deck to remedy a situation underneath it, and because ninja groundhog was last seen waddling under said deck, he's got to go. 

And he's gonna pay for my 'mater.  (and succulent)

(end)

Cheap plastic junk ruins everything

 

Kitty Ying-Yang

All the unpacking and de-junking has worn the kitties out.

Monday we trucked more crap out of the apartment and returned the key to the storage unit.  Last night was supposed to be dedicated to unpacking/de-junking/craigslisting/lawn-mowing.  

Alas. 

We had to halt the unpacking operation yesterday.  D was mowing the lawn for the first time with our brand new mower (fresh outta the box), when the wheel popped off.  The plastic had sheared off, making it impossible to put back on.  So we had to go to go back to Lowe's.  They replaced it though, at a discount.  Considering we'd only owned the thing two days, I think that was the right thing for them to do.  Makes us like them more than we would have if they had been difficult about it. 

Still, we had to wait around while they found people to get us a replacement mower.  This killed almost the entire night.  So much for progress.

Tomorrow : The Thief in the Nighttime.

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.

The Fated Fortune Cookie

Cincy seems to have a lot to offer.  All sorts of events and things I’d like to go to.  Why just last weekend there was a neighborhood fair right here in O-Town, getting people out in the square to eat, drink, be merry, and socialize with their neighbors. 

Oh, we weren’t there.  No, we didn’t actually know about it.  There certainly were no flyers up, no banners.  I guess it was word of mouth?  No, we spent that night at home on the couch watching Sucker Punch.  I was bummed about the missed opportunity.  And D would have rather been anywhere else, I can tell you. 

This happens a lot.  I never seem to notice that there is an opportunity to be had to meet people or do something fun until the opportunity has past.  Well, we don't watch cable, and I only barely glance at the morning news for the weather report.  So really the problem is that opportunity hasn't made itself so blatantly apparent that I walked face-first into it.  Obviously I have to go out and meet people.  As an introvert I find it that much more difficult to strike up conversations with people I do not know, without looking desperate or making a nuisance of myself.  It makes me so uncomfortable, complete with wringing hands.  Yesterday I went out to a local watering hole to multi-task eating and attempting to be social.  I sat at the bar, opened my ears, and tried to socialize. 

This was the result.

Not a fail, because just look at my architectural achievement.  But not a win either.  I definitely need to be more patient.  I went home in inebriated defeat and played Mahjong while watching Best Little Whorehouse in Texas on Youtube. 

But I am (strangely) optimistic, because of a serendipitous message. 

Okay, this is not genius, nor do I believe this to be some fated fortune cookie.  No, this is just some needed encouragement. 

This weekend is the St. Cecilia Parish Festival.  (I know this because there is a banner proclaiming that fact right outside the church that I often drive by)  I’m going to make time this weekend to go to this, and try to meet people in this community.  This is complicated (of course!), because this is the big moving weekend, complete with helpers (finally!), but I’ll make it a priority somehow. 

Befores & Afters : Paint Edition

Yuuki is still getting accustomed to things. 

Pantry Cat is learning about the food attic

So I wanted to show some shots of the painting work that we've accomplished.  This took so much longer than I anticipated, but the results are drastic.  Indeed, the correct word is "drastic."

 

The master bedroom was a shade of green that I believe we can call "un-restful."  

  

Don't get me wrong, I like green.  Kermit the frog?  Love him.  Somehow though, this color managed to have a sick-looking quality to it.  It even managed to detract from the fabulous wood floors.  And since the floors are in great condition that means it was just a really ugly color.  In the photo it manages to look a bit more calmed down, but in reality it was less Agave more Technicolor-Mint-Ice-Cream-Hell.  It was not very conducive to either relaxation or sleep, both of which I wish to do in this bedroom.  I don’t want an “energizing” bedroom, I want to wind down in here.  There’s no tv in here, we sleep and read books in here and that’s all (all that I will mention on this blog, thank you very much). 

The paint took forever because we primed it first (I didn't want an undertone of sick green in here).  This at first seemed more blue than I would have liked. But its really grown on me.  It looks pretty good, I have to admit.  I had wanted a grey color, but I compromised with D.  I'm glad. 

We still have a dearth of furniture. 

I also ended up compromising with him on the kitchen color, god help me. 

 (before)

It wasn't special, but the color was an adequate tone, nothing to dislike or like really. 

(after)

D has always been talking about a red kitchen.  The change after we painted was so shocking that I couldn't speak.  Did I like it, he asked.  No I did not like it, is what I did not say.  Sitting in the brown living room and looking into the kitchen makes you feel like a peeping tom because its almost as if you’re looking into another house entirely.  The transition, to me, is jarring.  D told me matter of factly that there needs to be a marked transition because, after all, "it’s another room.”  

I've had a week to get used to it now.  It doesn’t look awful.  It goes well with the white and black. I'm not entirely settled on it.  D loves it.  shrug.  You can see the fridge has moved, the new dishwasher has been installed (thanks dad) and there's the wooden frame D is trying to build because cabinetry is darned expensive.  I think there is a re-store somewhere in the area that sells cast offs from contracting jobs etc.  Maybe we'll get lucky...