When I bought my current house it had salmon colored carpet throughout the upstairs.  It had wear marks to show the traffic patterns that were whiter than white and they included the footprints of the prior owner’s feet from getting out of bed each morning.

Talk about something I did not need to picture.

I received a carpet allowance as part of the house deal and I went out in search of Berber.  Light-ish colored, semi-tight looped… dog withstanding carpet.

I bought nearly 1700 square feet of it.

It looked horrible when they installed it as there were strands sticking up all along the walls.  The seams showed way more than any seam should show.  There was a random square cut into the family room in a corner that had to be seamed in… I was hugely disappointed.

I made some phone calls… nothing good ever came of it.  (Home Valu, you don’t stand behind your work and are never getting my business again.)

Then the dog became an issue, then the vacuum.  That carpet snagged if you looked at it crossly and it didn’t just snag, it snagged and RAN.

So, lets say a dog collar with a loop with his tags on it happened to catch… and the dog panicked…

you might just get a whole spool of yarn to wind and a line down the middle of your hallway to show where it came from.

It made me sick to think of how much money it cost to get it and then to see it ruined, and I mean ruined, within a year or so… then reminded of it each time I was in my home.  I’ve lived on my dream carpet turned crap for about 6 years now.

Last night I hacked into that carpet with a knife.  It was kind of a relief to finally be able to give up on trying to save it all.  The downstairs carpet can hopefully be salvaged, but the upstairs is going to be hardwood and tile for all of the high traffic areas and only carpet in the bedroom.

Today when I walked out of the house over where the carpet had been pulled out, I felt like I had finally finished paying for my poor carpet buying skills.

I felt relief.

I felt hope.

I also bought a boot tray and every single one of you are going to take your shoes off on my new flooring and the dog is no longer going to live there.

So there.

S.

I’m sure that many of you have heard the following…

Jack Sprat could eat no fat.

His wife could eat no lean.

And so between them both, you see,

They licked the platter clean!

We have two dogs that are under our responsibility.  Old geriatric dog of mine and dad’s little middle aged new favorite daughter.  Mine is battling the war with old age and Brixi is making her prognosis of dead with cancer by December 2008 look like a joke.

I’ve been excited lately as Baxter is months since his last episode of explosive poohs and has actually been putting on a few pounds since he’s keeping his food inside of him a little bit better.  (Not great, he still leaves pooh in inappropriate places if you’re not paying attention, but at least they’re not splatter paint-like in effect.)  He was so bony for a while there it was like looking at skeleton dog, so I’m glad to see less of his ribs and more of his butt.

Brixi on the other hand is growing with leaps and bounds… around her middle.  She is a rolly polly jolly old gal and we’ve taken to calling her Fatty Patty.

I can’t help laugh at our odd couple.  Both on special diets.  One has his movement a bit restricted for the benefit of his hips and the other is now on an exercise regimen with the hopes she’ll trim down enough to fit in the RV for dad’s trip to Alaska in a few months.

He’s decided that as is she would be like having an extra person in the vehicle and that is just TOO many.

I’m too fat to ride a mule in the Grand Canyon and Brixi is too fat to ride in the RV.  We’ll both be amping up our workouts this spring.

It’s a good thing this is all funny or it would all be sad.

Says me.

My dad likes to use tongs when he’s cooking.  They are highly effective for ribs, deep fat frying, barbecue chicken, corn on the cob, pasta, and nearly everything else.

Because he is always looking for tongs we have long ones, short ones, rubber tipped ones, ones that are strong and some that are flimsy.

We are tong people.

It seems that tongs disappear around here.  One day we have about 6 or 7  that don’t quite fit in the drawer and then the next week we can only find 2 and they are both in the dishwasher.  There have been years that I bought dad sets of tongs for Christmas as my only gift to him.

I still have to wonder where all the tongs go, as I have no recollection of ever having thrown a pair of tongs away.

It’s perplexing… not all consuming, but for sure perplexing.

This week a pair of rusty tongs appeared on the deck.  They were in their closed and locked position and other than the rust, entirely unharmed.

Aliens?

I think not.

Dad’s dog is kind of an odd duck of a dog.  For the past week she has been relocating terracotta pots all over the yard.  She has toys galore… so why in the world is she carrying around my future herb garden?

I’m thinking that if we start following her around the yard we are bound to find about 7 sets of tongs, 2 terracotta pots, 3 beheaded stuffed ‘things’, a half eaten frog that was previously frozen, and more dog dishes than one could comfortably shake a stick at.  We will not find any rabbit poop as that is apparently a doggy delicacy to be eaten upon sight.  (Yes, feel free to gag on that one, it’s so gross.)

I think the mystery of the missing tongs is solved.  I am going to laugh if that is also the answer to why we can never find a grill lighter around either.

Ahhhhh Brixi… you sure are something… or other.

I have a huge project all over my plate right now for work.

Xcel Energy has a huge hole dug all over my neighborhood.

I have no power.

It’s amazing how Xcel Energy can effectively shut my business down in a blink of an eye, without notice, without warning, without apology.  It is one of the many pitfalls of working at home; included with the likes of dogs being sick, dogs needing out, laundry piling up, resisting the urge to bake and the call of the 30 other things that one could be doing other than work at any given moment.  (Like posting to one’s blog, for example.)

I’m now working at Dunn Bros., where they made the coffee for me, are refilling my cup, and the heat is still powered up.  There are no dogs here to demand anything and the amount of distractions (beyond people watching) are limited.

Interesting turn of events.

Says me.

As per the norm, the Midwest as has been rejoicing the warm weather as silently I die a little inside.

I hate the mid-season melt down.

It makes the snow into this wet sugar wet/sand mess and then it gets cold again making it a solid ice mess.  Then they groom it into a rice mess and then it warms up again making a whole new ice mess.

Then it snows.

Then we all ski on a thin layer of rice over ice until enough days go by that you’re not at risk of hitting something you can’t get your edge into if you really lay down on a turn.

Non-skier readers, I apologize.  This is my little posting for me really.

I cannot tell you how thrilled I am that it is snowing again today and that the temperatures are down again.  This is even despite the fact that softened up dog poo in the yard has now refrozen into ice pucks like super glue to the ground after I only managed to get about a quarter of it cleaned up this week.

It can wait.  I’m pretty sure it will still be there in the spring.

Says me.

Walking my geriatric old man dog is an exercise in patience and leisure. There is no great distance to be reached… there will be no land speed records broken.

A slow saunter down around the block and back is about all he can muster with his bad hip and arthritic joints.

We don’t walk past the driveway on days that are foul weather.

My dad’s dog, who happens to be in my charge for a few months, is a whole different adventure.

She runs circles around me while she walks. She seeks out puddles, points everything, charges things that move and is constantly trying to lasso me with her leash.

I’m under the impression that 2 dogs are 4 times as much work as one dog and I am merely a player in their little dog entertainment games.

S.

Last week there was a day where it started to rain/sleet and everything in southern central Minnesota had a nice shiny slickery glaze all over it.

When I thought roads would be clear enough, I got the heck out of dodge and made tracks for less dangerous driving/walking/living.

Today I returned thinking the ice would be gone…

but no, dad’s driveway is still an ice rink.

I gingerly lifted my geriatric dog out of the back of my car to ensure he wouldn’t hurt himself jumping down (I do this even when it’s not icy.) and he promptly ran all over excited as heck at new smells.

Since I was in a hurry I shuffled slowly to the house calling the dog after me.  It was really like glass and with the sun on it, had taken on nearly impossible slickness.

I turned around just in time to see my dog pulling a cartoon slide behind me.  All four legs fighting in circles to gain traction until “THUD” the dog was down with one leg pointing in each direction.

There could have been those little “Whoop woop Whooop” sound effects, so long did he scramble before all feet went out from under him.

My response?

I laughed…

a lot… really loudly…

while bent over holding my knees for support…

stomach cramping, face contorted.

I am SUCH a bad dog owner.

Says me.

The dog has been a frequently reoccurring topic in this blog thing.  Partially because he is around me 24 hours a day, and partially because I swing between loving and enjoying him, and loving him and totally worrying about him… with a few spatterings of wishing he would just die already mixed in.

He’s been through the trial of bland dog food to prevent his Jackson Pollock like moments of grossness and I am glad to say that the change of diet was effective.  Sadly it was also going to cost me about $45 every two weeks to feed him this prescription bland diet.   My first attempt at trying to find a similar product that is more cost effective has resulted in one day of him being sick again.  I’ll be revisiting the store again today for try 2 on cheaper bland diet.

My heart goes out to him each time he struggles to get up the stairs and it breaks a little every time he wipes out on the ice…

but that is part of the picture.  He is wiping out on the ice because he is running, playing, making puppy snow angels and overall acting like a happy normal dog.    He full on jams his head into snow banks.  He LOVES the snow.

I’m going to postpone this decision of what to do with him for another few weeks. I struggle with whether I’m being selfish or if I’m letting him live a good life.  I have no idea what I’m doing.

To make matters worse I actually put a ribbon around his neck and made him pose by the Christmas Tree in my living room so I could take pictures.

If he could talk, he would have Bah Humbug’d me for sure.   Baxter, if you read this, I am SO sorry I degraded you with that satin ribbon.  You deserve better from me.

and that… is what I have to say about that.

S.

and for some reason, everyone is freaking the heck out.

Not me.  Minnesota is cold, but has not been HUGELY cold for more than a few days a year for the majority of my adult life.  This is one of those cold days, and this too will pass.

Rather than complaining, maybe we can all start using these days as an excuse to give ourselves permission to stay in for a day/night.  Cuddle under a down throw with the loved one of their choice, or by ourselves to just get centered.

I went out to a meeting, nearly rear ended a neighbor, and then had a laugh with her about it rather than getting snitty.   I’m glad I slid into the next lane next to her in a semi-controlled fashion, rolled down the window and said while laughing, “Appears to be a little icy.”   It gave us the chance to laugh about something that could have been horrible and relieved the adrenaline that was rushing through me. I REALLY did not want to rear end my neighbor.

After the meeting I came home and worked out.   Now bear in mind I wasn’t working out to get fit, I just am too cheap to put the heat over 63 degrees and I was aiming for natural warm up.

Tis the season for long underwear.  I’m personally a fan of both polypropalene and silk long underwear.  Silk doesn’t bulk up under clothes and the poly is just so dang warm.

I’ve taken out the smart wool socks and am wearing them religiously.

I’m drinking hot tea and eating apples like they are going out of fashion.

I’m cuddling with the dog, as Fred is gone and the dog is toasty.  (Fred generally smells better… don’t nark me out to Baxter for saying so.)

I’m enjoying blue skies and sunshine.

I’m not going to complain about our cold snap.

Have you found an excuse to hibernate today?

Says me.

S.

My dog is not suffering liver or kidney failure.  He has no parasites or worms living in his innards.  He’s not eaten anything really foul.  He’s not grown any big lumpy tumors.

He’s a healthy as can be expected geriatric mutt… and he has found someone to give him a few weeks.

Today we went to the vet to try to figure out if its time to put my dog down and I still don’t know.

I came home with the dog, some bland dog food and a bottle of pills that are supposed to “bulk up” his stool.

Seriously, I don’t want there to be more of it to clean up.  Hopefully the vet’s bulking is something that helps stuff remain in the tract longer.

Dad has reached his threshold and the dog is relegated to the outdoors now after 11 years of being an indoor dog.  I keep hoping he learns to sleep inside the heated kennel box, instead of on the bed in the cold.

Two weeks.

To see if the food helps settle his stomach.  To see if he can maintain his weight.

To see if he bites me again.

To see if I can find peace with making a decision that I can live with about an old friend.

Growing up sucks.  Being the adult sucks.  Making life choices… pretty much sucks.

Says me.

S.