Well, it was never going to be a thing of beauty and certainly the architectural tectonics were never going to win any prizes. Still, it’s finished. Done.
I did mention that my lovely hubby wanted to make a sort of dog-house/ramp, right? Well, it’s happening. Believe it or not, this…thing is now in our backyard.
It is…well, I don’t know what it is and I have doubts that my hubby does either. He’s there with a friend, nailing and cutting and laughing and building. The dogs are with them too, oblivious at the purpose of the ruckus around them.
There have been mistakes made, bandaids requested and cookies baked. The dogs are covered in saw dust and the men are exhausted. Still, construction continues.
I’m certain most of the birds in the neighbourhood are hoping this is somehow going to be a house for them. Considering the success of our previous dog houses, they might be the only ones using the thing.
Whatever it is.
I don’t like change. So, when we moved homes, I thought I would have a little trouble adjusting. I wasn’t prepared for my resistance to the new home. I had picked the house with my hubby after all; I should be happy to live there.
The house didn’t feel scary or weird. It just felt…strange. I didn’t see it as ours and there were nooks and crannies that I thought were not for us.
It’s been months since the move. You’d think I would have gotten used to the house by now but I’m still struggling. Certainly, there are parts that feel more homey now but there is still a lingering feeling of living in a stranger’s house.
It helps that I have added plants to most rooms. I love plants. There are some that are growing in delight and their new buds make me smile every time I see them.
It helps that our two pooches have no such issues. They run around and bounce on the ‘guest’ beds with delight leaving doggie footprints all over the fresh sheets and giving those strange rooms a touch of ‘doggie’. Most people would be rightfully upset at the mess but, I’m silly about my dogs, I love every bit of them, even their rambunctiousness.
It helps to clean the house. I have done loads of laundry, cleaned floors, moped cobwebs and dusted nooks and crannies. I even moped the walls of some rooms. Poking around like that, I have found light switches that don’t turn anything on, remotes for non-existing machines and a very nice-looking pool cue. I still have to check out the attic. I wonder what mysteries lie in that space.
Then my husband said something that made me pause. He said, maybe we should get another dog…And all silly thoughts about the house immediately flew out of my head. Instead, I dreamed a happy dream…
We’re in the middle of packing our house. We’re trying to get a fence put up in our future house, we’re also trying to deal with a finicky well that’s not behaving, we’re packing and we’re working full time. So, what did we decided to do at this busy time?
Wash our dogs.
We had one little brain cell working though and we decided to only wash one dog. We picked River because he’s the biggest and hairiest and he itches, so he needs a wash more than fluffy, little Ocean.
We tried washing said pooch at a professional place, but River doesn’t like strangers. And we tried a self-serve wash that only poured out dirty water and made River dirtier than ever. Desperate, my lovely hubby decided to do this at home.
Never mind that we didn’t have a tub for a dog, or a way to dry the animal. He was determined to get it done. We were going to use our claw-footed delicate tub and to dry him (get ready,) we would use the leaf blower.
Hubby thought this last point was completely logical and practical. I was more hesitant. River doesn’t like loud noises and River is pretty big. I was pretty certain the idea ranked up there with trying to pet a porcupine. Still, never let it be said that I don’t have an open mind, we gave it a go.
Of course, the bath was a disaster. Of course, River got out while he was soaped and wet making a dash for it. Of course, the claw-foot tub is barely hanging in there after the experience and the bathroom looks like a bomb went off in it.
But the worst was yet to come.
To say that drying him off was a nightmare is the understatement of the century. Hubby held on to the massive leaf-blower while I held on to River’s leash. We counted down and he turned on the thing…
And River was simply gone. I was on the ground, getting the benefit of the leaf-blower’s power and hubby was trying to turn off the blasted machine. The only one who didn’t get blown around was River. He legged it out there faster than I’ve ever seen him move.
Many towels and several cups of tea later, we sat in our living room and took stock of our loses. River was still wet. The bathroom was catastrophic. There was a smell in the house, a mixture of wet dog, dirt and human exhaustion, that was hard to describe. And there were clumps of wet dog hair practically everywhere the eye could see.
With an exhausted sigh, I turned to my hubby.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he observed, indomitable. “We should do Ocean next week.” And a couple of dog hairs fell off his head.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that my hubby is still giving me the evil eye. In a display of incredible genius, I thew out my hubby’s new, never-used winter boots along with our other extras going to Goodwill. So, yesterday, we were back at the stores getting him a second pair of boots.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that our doggies know something is up. They keep watching us putting things in boxes and sniffing the contents with concern. I don’t know that they understand exactly what’s going on but I think they certainly know somethings up.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that, as much as we have already done, it seems that there is stuff to pack everywhere you look. The garage itself is a nightmare for packing that I dread even starting. How do you pack a rake? A bottles of nameless fluids? Cables and brooms? Tools none of which are the same size?
Definitely, more coffee is needed.
So, after a disastrous results on our taxes, hubby decided the way to avoid further fiscal nightmares was to move his private practice to our home and save on rent. Unfortunately, our home is not set up for a business, so…we’re now looking at selling and moving.
Finding our next home is a difficult task, mostly because we have very different opinions of what is a habitable environment. Two days ago, lovely hubby brought me to the middle of nowhere to see an ancient little school house on the verge of falling over. Never mind the smell as you walked in (a mix of cat urine and mold that made my eyes water) or the fact that the stairs had no railings and could be used to teach math angles, hubby was certain the place was a hidden gem.
While the resident cat caught and chewed an innocent mouse in front of our eyes and cockroaches held a picnic, I tried to convince him that the Adams Family wouldn’t live there and the place was surely about to be condemned. Undeterred, hubby followed the giggling realtor to the basement. I took one look at the dark, gaping hole that led to the basement and refused to enter the catacombs of the house.
Obviously, we have different views of what a living environment entails. After the school house nightmare, I was determined to show him my version of a living home and found a lovely house with a basement that was high above ground and could easily be converted into an office. Did I mention it had a fenced yard for the dogs and a lovely pool? Also, it came without rodents, bugs or blood-thirsty cats.
Hubby found a barn. Literally.
The place had been restored and had a yoga studio at the bottom but there was no denying it was a barn. He was in love. I was more concerned with the tiny corner that was supposed to be our ‘ample living space’. I can ignore the tilted ceilings and the drawer-like space they claim was a closet but the kitchen/bathroom was a little much and the rooftop deck without railings was pretty dangerous.
The only thing that wasn’t small was the price tag. Apparently, barns are a wanted luxury because this number would make even Oprah’s eyebrows rise.
Obviously, this ridiculous situation is not over and you’ll definitely hear more about it. On a completely different topic, if anyone is looking for a slightly used school house, I know just the place.
I’ve never, ever made risotto before but this one is super yummy. It’s pretty labour intensive, because it basically asks you to be stirring the rice for 45 minutes but it’s so worth the work. The taste was unbelievable! Even my meat-loving hubby loved it.
Here are some pictures and the recipe comes from Oh She Glows.
Oh, I did cheat at the end a put a dab of real butter into the dish. Just to be completely honest. Still, man alive, it was good!
Well, hubby was due to go to the doctor and I sat in. He still has high cholesterol, though better than before and the doctor advised us to follow a Mediterranean diet. I mentioned our previous attempt at a plant-based diet but he countered that doctors never recommend it.
His advice made us both think and the result was we decided to add some mediterranean dishes to our cuisine. Now, this recipe below was a first attempt at Mediterranean cuisine for me.
It comes from this site. And this is what we got:
It was actually really yummy. If you do give this a try, let me know how it turned out for you.
Well, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just let our two trees sit there and die. It was a job that was way too tough for me to do alone in spite of my amazing muscles. (ahem!). So, as soon as hubby was back from his therapy thing, I asked him for help.
The trees were behind these partition plastic things the drillers had put to guide the clay down to the drain. It hadn’t worked and the clay had accumulated into this massive puddle. It stinks, sucks any boot you’re wearing off your foot faster than you can say help and is a nightmare to wash off.
It was a coordinated effort between my hubby and I, but the truth is he did the bulk of the work, finally liberating the squashed fir trees from their prison and dragging them to the backyard. Once there, we had to protect them from our curious fluff-balls of dogs who immediately wanted to know what we were up to and then, of course, make holes for the new residents of the yard.
A good couple of hours later, we had planted, fed and watered our trees. We were exhausted and more filthy than I can describe. We stunk like the clay and had bruises and scrapes from the pine needles of our rescued friends.
We were also jubilant.
Sure, our two trees are a little worse for wear and sure, they might still die; but we’ve given them a chance. It was awesome.
Only thing is…our yard now has 6 new trees…and it’s starting to look a lot less like a yard and more and more like a forest.