The FREE dog...is a dog.

Just about a month ago we discovered some dog hair on the sofa in the living room.
Oh…the horror of it.

Not surprisingly, I was not happy. This is not acceptable FREE dog behavior.

Well last week, while removing the slipcovers for washing I found a brand new, never been chewed rawhide hidden neatly under the sofa cushions.

This brought me great joy.
The FREE dog was NOT sleeping on the sofa – she merely needed to hide her toy there.
After washing and replacing the cushion covers I put the rawhide right back where I had found it.
There have been no further discoveries of dog hair on the sofa.

Yay.
We were back to having the perfect FREE dog (well… that is if you don’t mind the whole ‘not friendly with strangers’ thing…).

Until last night.
A major canine indiscretion.

Food taken from the counter.

We are simply not used to such behavior. We have kept plates of food out on the counter for over 6 years without worry.
We have even left food on the coffee table in the living room… unattended. And while it was carefully watched by the FREE dog, it was never touched.

I am dismayed.

My dog-loving wife points out that the FREE dog clearly waited until Ferris, the alpha dog, was satiated and had left the house before devouring his tasty, cheese-slathered meat.

This sort of behavior makes sense within a pack.
Except that weese is in this pack.

My constantly-cooking wife is already coming up with alternate game plans to leave food in more secure locations for the alpha dog. She keeps the whole pack happy.

damn damn damn.

blogger ate my post and i am pissed.

Memorial Day

Memorial Day moves me. There is just something about honoring people who do brave things that I treasure.

If you have the opportunity to spend Memorial Day with senior citizens – please seize the moment. A country at war means a whole different thing to that generation. It’s something we should not lose touch with.
Again this year, we went to my mom’s senior complex to watch her town’s parade, and also to help her with some gardening which is becoming increasingly difficult for her to keep up with.

After the parade we finished up the gardening and gathered our stuff to leave. Since we were taking home some of the plants mom no longer wanted – we had quite a bit to carry, so my spry wife went to get the car. This year, because we were a little late getting there – we had to park a few blocks away as the senior housing is right on the parade route and the roads were already closed when we arrived.

I sat with my mom and had a cool drink while we waited for my Jeep-drivin’ wife to return.
And we waited… and waited….

Some time later she finally pulls into the driveway and we start loading up the Jeep with tools, lawn chairs and the plant materials. My adorable wife apologizes for the delay and tells us she had to give ‘a friend’ a lift.

You see…we parked just at the end of the parade route, and while she was getting the car an elderly man asked her for a lift back to the parade start point where his car was parked. He was clearly dressed as a veteran… and my patriotic wife’s Jeep was top down and decked out with small flags – what could be more appropriate.

This veteran was a bomber pilot from WWII station in England. He happily shared stories and showed off his badges and pins to my ever-grateful wife as they rode along. He told her this was the first year he chose to ride rather than march the entire route… this veteran is 90.
She was smitten of course.

Friday

tip-o-day

In the laundry red is the enemy. Ferris has some red t-shirts that bleed so much I won't put them in with anything but the darkest darks...and even then I wouldn't put in dark dress pants if they had light colored pockets - lest I want them pink.

To test color-fastness in the wash I use this nifty little method. The first time a new dark or brightly colored item goes into the wash, I toss in what I like to call an 'indicator'.

[sub-tip]
We use white bar towels around the kitchen...as mopeenes. After serving us well - when they get tattered or stained they get re purposed as dust rags.. and then eventually end up in the basement or garage for oil or paint clean-up sort of things. To tell the difference at a glance, my clever wife uses a sharpie to put dots on each corner. These then get sorted/folded/and stored in the laundry room rather than with the kitchen towels.

Anyhooo... I just toss one of these white dust rags into the load since I don't really care what color they are. If it comes out white, then I know I can safely wash the item without worry.

It's a look

I thought the cane really suited me... so I started using it again today.



.

.

.

Um... no. Not really. My coddling wife made me bring it. Seems I've had a little setback in the whole "Look!, I'm healed!" process.
oops

But I am sure taking a ribbing here at the office. See, you need to imagine the whole picture.
Since the A/C has been on I have started wearing my cardigans again.
Add that to my wal-mart special magno glass that I wear on a chain around my neck.
Then toss in a cane.

Oh yeah, I've got 'the look' goin' on.

Am I really a lesbian?

While its true that I have a tool belt, a basement full of power tools, a ride on mower, even the short hair cut - there is one thing that keeps me from truly crossing that cliche line.

I don't own a Subaru.
My petite wife drives a Wrangler- which I think is a good substitute on the cliche scale. Plus she looks really hot in it sporting a tank shirt with the top down.

Last night on TV I saw a Subaru commercial. It seems they have built a new plant in Indiana which creates zero landfill waste.
Zero.
Wow.
And the site is a protected wildlife habitat.
Not to mention they have those gay commercials on Logo.
What's not to like?

Bravo to my pal Zoe who just picked one up!

Of course, I started shopping online immediately.
Hmm, they don't make a convertible...
Don't lesbians like convertibles?

Coincidence?

“Previously on weese”
… last week we found a mouse in our trap. I ‘felt bad’
for the little guy and let him go on the side of the garage.

Saturday, I found a mouse in the other trap.
Hmm….

This time I drove him over to the park. It’s a beautiful park, plenty of deeply wooded areas, playground equipment and two concession stands for ample snacking. I am certain he will make new friends there.

I checked the traps this morning.
Nothing.

Friday

tip-o-day

What do you want dear blog people - would you rather hear a tip about bleach additives in cleaning products or... how we captured an intruder this morning.

Ah yes… as I suspected.

I was a little slow to wake this morning. My early-rising wife came bubbling in to get me with the digital camera in her hand.
"Get up, you need to come with me."
Handing me the camera, "You'll want this."

Ok, my interest was piqued.

She led me to the basement.
The terribly disorganized, discombobulated basement.
The future home of my workshop…now sitting piles all over the place.
The basement… the scene of the ‘accident’.
Where I had not ventured for the past week.

She had evidently gone to the basement this morning in need of some such stocked item down there and heard a scratching sound.

Welp… quite a long time ago we had set some traps which I diligently checked for weeks.
Slowly, over time, I checked them less and less. Tho still every other day or third day or so…
Now the forlorn basement has been abandoned for a week and guess what.

Yup, we caught ourselves a mouse.

However, my excitement was tempered by the fact that the little guy was in rough shape. He had clearly been in confinement for some time.
My original plan to drive the captured mice to my office and release them in the parking garage was dashed by the need to get this guy some air and freedom as quickly as possible.

I am such a softy.

I released him in the back of our detached garage. Other mice live in the garage, perhaps they already know each other. He will be happy there.

And yes, I know he will probably move right back into the house.
My fault tho.

Your tip for today:
Keep checkin’ the traps.

It's all fun and games until somebody...

It's all good people.
weese does NOT need surgery.
The doctor tells me that I have some cartilage that may be frayed.
weese is fraying.

So for now, if I keep improving I am good to go.
There is an outside chance that I will need my frayed-ness smoothed out.
But weese is doubtful.
My Reiki-practioning wife will take care of the rest of my healing.
She has already been taking care of me dutifully all week. Each night she makes sure I have the requisite number of cocktails to keep me in a happy place. A place far from my long 'spring to-do list'.

I have been given the go ahead to resume 'light' activity today.
You all know what that means....

a restful place

I am in the office today... for my health.

I know if I were home today I would be trying to clean that damn basement on crutches.
Yesterday I found that I could push the laundry basket around the house. See, you just balance on the good leg with the opposite crutch, then using the free crutch you... ok, well you can see why I came into work.

The pain is minimal today, which is too bad really - because I've got some awesome opiates.

Just when you thought...

We have spoken of my spring anxiety...and of my looooong list of things to do.
Well - just when you thought you had a plan to get things under control and get some stuff done... the Universe - it plays with us.

This morning... while doing nothing more than squatting down to get something off a low shelf - it seems I may have torn my meniscus (this is evidently the cartilage in my knee). This is not a definitive diagnosis yet. There are tests to be done, results to review, and treatments to discuss.
In the meantime - there are crutches and pain meds.
weese is
out
of
commission.

And let me just say how amazingly blessed I am to have a son strong enough to lift me.
If he hadn't been home I can just imagine I would have had to call 911 for them to get me out of the basement. And since one of the projects underway was cleaning the basement, there was no way I was letting any EMT's down there without straitening up a bit. And since standing was impossible... we would have had a serious problem here.

Friday

tip-o-day

Did you know you can get soap out of a sponge simply by adding different soap?

For example, if you've got a sponge full of dish soap and it seems like you could rinse it forever with endless suds - take a bar of hand soap and rub some into the sponge, then squeeze and rinse.
One washes the other out.

A creak in the floor

The floor creaked as I walked the hall last night. Our floors creak easily.
I like creaks.
I have always found them comforting.
I got to wondering what other people thought about creaks in the floor.

This creak was right in front of Ferris’ room. He is home for the summer and fresh off finals, so sleep grabbed him early.
I wondered if he heard these creaks. The creaks of his mom and me paddling about getting ready for bed. Perhaps they woke him slightly, or perhaps they were simply unconsciously noted. I wondered if they comforted him. Those cuddly sounds of home.
I wondered about people who might not like creaks. Imagine the tiny victim of child abuse cringing at the creak of approaching terror.
I wondered about those who might think to fix the creaks- and of course wondered how they might fix them.

I would not fix them.
To me… these creaks are part of the sounds and smells and tactile feelings of home.
These creaks bring me joy.

To Blave

weese can be anxious at times.
Anxiety often comes to weese in the spring. The spring brings many things to do which must be done in a timely manner. The list is daunting to weese. Add to these spring things – Ferris arriving home for summer break with three times as much laundry as he left with, and discourse where weese works…and you have one weese who really should be medicated.

Ah, but then there is weese’s most patient wife. She seems to sense the energy before even pulling into the driveway. She steels herself, and then walks into it. She speaks just a few words, waves her arms around a bit and this fretful weesy energy disperses all over the room seeping out the windows and doors. Then she gently sets weese off on a task, and calmly sorts through the loose ends.

This weese is blessed.

Our baby boy

turns 19 today.

I wonder what he's gonna be doin' tonight...

just talking

Our conversation this morning over coffee...

weese: I really like this house.
my lovely wife: me too, we can stay here for many more years.

Our conversation this evening over sparkling water...
after spending most of the afternoon lying under the tractor trying to get it to work, then cutting the grass for two hours

weese: I'm thinking a little cape, on say 1/8th of an acre.
my supportive wife: uh huh... do you want 3 or 4 Tylenol?

Wednesday is Friday

I have Thursday and Friday off.
I have a long list of projects scheduled over the next four days.

I won't have much time for blogging, but surely enough time to post a picture or two.

The biggest project will be moving my workshop from the garage into the basement.
We have a big garage which used to be a barn. There are two bays up top where we park the cars, and a large lower bay where we keep the lawn equipment and yard tools. A few years ago we moved my workshop out there as well so that we could use the basement space for other purposes.
We live in a small house and its essential to not only use all space available, but to be open to re-inventing it every few years.
Perhaps we were Nomads in previous lives. But we enjoy the re-invention process.

Once the workshop is tucked neatly back into the basement, the space created in the garage will then be used to store the Jeep's hardtop over the summer. My free-spirited wife simply can't wait to get her top off.