linoleum... the wonders of the past

 

In late nite TV ads this would be the fat and sweaty "before" picture. 

So there is this line, "Behold, the Underminer! I'm always beneath you, but nothing is beneath me!" what he didn't realize was that he was referencing the lovely former flooring (current below layers) of linoleum and beigey beige wall to wall carpet at the farm. (movie ref, oh come on, it is the internet, there is more than porn there, though not much, go look)

 

It looks like carpet, but it isn't

There is beneath me, mostly subfloor, crawlspace and mice skeletons, but that is another post (we hope will never, NEVER be posted, for that will be the 8th sign of the apocalypse, just after that Swedish guy plays checkers with death, you sunk my battleship).

Harley, though a bad girl, is still kinda a hotty.

(a cartoon, but still a hotty, and not in a Betty way)

so...

 

I was promised a treadmill on which to walk Astro.  

Cool flooring. Not sure where it came from, or why there is a different pattern in every room, though we could probably spin a reasonable story about that, given the fluid nature of the house's construction. Still, look at these amazing patterns! Argyle! Faux carpet! Meet George Jetson! And the very best, hidden under the bottom drawer of the built-in dresser...faux red velvet, befitting a retro piano lounge.

 

again, not carpet, but oooh...and aahh...

(oh, and this would be the hotty and smiley "after" picture)

Too soon, but...

But sometimes you just have to ride the chaos train and see where it takes you.

Five days after losing our beloved Odin, still stunned by grief, processing the violation of a home break in, and trying to impersonate functioning grown ups in our regular life, something fell in our laps.


This fiery bundle of something:

The Fairy Queen thought maybe the best way to work through some sorrow - the kind that sits like an anvil on your shoulders, making you slower and smaller as well as sadder - would be to tackle the wall of blackberries that have grown up between us and our neighbors (not evil neighbor, nice ones who just don't pay attention to their greenery). An hour later she was hot, bleeding, and even more sad.

Phrodaux led her to a garden chair and was patiently listening to the guest list of her pity party when the phone rang: Electric Hipster (his choice of name! really!) calling from L.A. to catch up. While the Fairy Queen listened to his plans to become a business mogul, Phrodaux took a call from his mom, but it might as well have been DESTINY calling.

The same breeder that Odin and his little brother Anubis (aka Nubie) came from.

Last puppy of the litter. Original family had a change of circumstance, couldn't take him after all. The Fairy Queen didn't even finish the phone call with our L.A. pal, just said YES to Phrodaux out of the corner of her mouth. Because sometimes the only thing that makes the despair demons run away is YES. Oddly enough, 16 years ago, Phrodaux got a similar call: They only have one left, a little boy (but we wanted a girl, we've always had girls in his family, but ok).

So, same breeder, same "last little boy." The gods, or maybe a small white god, named after the all father, one who had a son in a movie recently, rhymes with "Sore, god of Lunder," was saying "Get off your sorry asses, you need a small white chaos engine."

It's obviously too soon. We are still in mourning for Odin, who of course can never be replaced. At the same time, puppy energy is highly distracting; in fact it should be bottled and sold at 24-hour dispensaries for sad people.

So here he is, our new boy Marruni (an earthquake god), mostly known as Mo. He is apparently not afraid of anything. Certainly not hoses, or basketballs, or stairs, or grumpy big brothers.

Nubie is thinking this particular anti-sadness plan is not such a great idea.

 

But we think he'll get used to it. He used to be a little brother too.

Enough (warning, not a frivolous post)

Thursday, September 5, 2013
Phrodaux's great grandma had a saying: Enough is enough, and too much is shitty. Well, today, Phrodaux and the Fairy Queen have officially had TOO MUCH.

Item: Our beloved beastie, Odin, is near the end of his 16 year run. Yes, do the math. Dog years to people years. Our boy is 112 or something. He sleeps and pants and we make his legs move for him and he doesn't eat (not since last week's bacon fest followed by lunch meat day) but he shows his true uppity self every time we try to introduce a pain/anti-nausea/anti-inflammation pill into the equation. He fights like a crocodile and spits out the carefully crafted pill delivery systems we have constructed out of BRIE.

Item: The Fairy Queen has the interestingly intense job that kicks in when September starts. Again, do the math. Imagine a room full of eight-year-olds watching your every move. Try doing that while thinking about Item 1. Welcome to compartmentalization.

Item: Phrodaux came home at lunch today, tried to give Odin his mid-day pain pill, and could not find the pill. And could not find his fancy electronic device. And noticed that maybe the Fairy Queen had opened all the cupboards and closets, even the crafty drawer we go to maybe twice a year. No, she did not. Yes, evil, horrible, irredeemable, horrible, visiting their personal fucked up demons on innocent people DID. Someone(s) broke into our house today. They were IN OUR HOUSE. They touched our stuff. They stole our dying dog's pain pills. They went through the Fairy Queen's UNDERWEAR DRAWER. There is nothing very interesting in there; the dead give-away was the black bra hanging out of the drawer. She wears that underwired devil three times a year, tops. No way it's in action on a week day in early September.

Lovely Detective S spent a great deal of time here this afternoon. She was kind and patient and sympathetic. She listened, photographed, made lists, dusted for fingerprints - no luck, just lots of unwieldly black goop on our surfaces and her nice face. She let us know that there have been heroin-addicted squatters down the block. Nice to know, now.

Now, let's think about now. Our home has been violated. Unknown reprobates have touched (and taken) our stuff. Our windows are locked - is it enough? Honestly, enough is enough and too much is...

But wait. In the midst of possibly the worst run of days in our lives together, Phrodaux can still surprise me. We have a neighbor, a very terrible neighbor. If you know us, you know his sins. He is a bad, bad man. And yet, Phrodaux is a big enough person to go to bad man's door tonight and say: Hey. This happened. Lock your doors and windows. Be safe.

The Fairy Queen has cried a lot tonight. But she'll sleep, eventually, knowing that inches away sleeps the best person on earth.

________________________________________

Rest in Peace, Odin. October 14, 1997 - September 7, 2013