February 2005 Archives

I finally decided after several years of procrastination that I might as well go ahead and get the bathrooms redone. The downstairs shower has been unusable for several years due to massive water damage caused by a crack in the improperly-installed base. The half bath in Mike's room was built in, like, 1965; nuff said. So I know that if I were ever to sell this house I'd have to get the bathrooms redone first. It's not as though I can escape this task forever. So I'm thinking: why should I live with lousy bathrooms only to eventually fix them up for somebody else right before I move?

So I took the afternoon off and spent it looking at tiles and cabinets and pondering ways to finance this major expense. And... it was fun. I got into the spirit of it and decided to replace more than needed to be replaced downstairs, just because I got this vision in my head of a really beautiful bathroom with light taupe ceramic tile and dark wood and...

And then tonight, of all nights, I discovered Trailer Park Girl. Tonight would be the night that I would get my day thrown in my face by discovering this really great blog written by a woman who is into minimalist living and traveling and living in her pickup truck, meeting people who live in dilapidated trailers and railroad cars and refurbished shrimp boats in swamps and marshes.

That's karma for you. Sometimes karma is just a swift kick in the ass.

Comfort Edition

We were told we were going to get snow this past Sunday and we got nothing. Nada. Zip. Not a flake. Now they tell us we're in for a substantial amount of snow tomorrow. I like snow. The dog loves snow. The inevitable melt will be a drag, but it'll be fun for a while.

I haven't had the opportunity to put paws to keyboard for a while now, but I've been having some fun, let me tell you. Shooter and Molly came over last Saturday, and after they left Winston came by, and today I went over to Winston's place.

The old dame I live with and the young couple Shooter and Molly live with had been planning on getting us together to play for a long time, but it was all talk, no action. I finally decided to take matters into my own paws and I scootched under the fence into their back yard. There was just enough of a gap in the far corner, where the ground sloped down away from the fence. My freedom was short-lived, though. The young guy snapped a leash on my collar and Shooter, Molly and I all got taken for "a nice walk". Down to the end of their street, over a bit, up the cul-de-sac, and there we were in front of my own house. The gap beneath the fence has since been blocked by some kind of wire mesh, but hey, I got my point across. I expect I'll get to see much more of Shooter and Molly from now on.

Got some pictures to show you. Here's one of Shooter, Molly, and me--no, you're not seeing triple, heh, we're all golden labs. I'm in the middle. That Molly's a cutie, huh? She's on the left.

That was not my best shot, but when I decided to pose pretty for the camera, Shooter and Molly both decided they'd had enough:

Over at Winston's place today, Winston's old dame tried to get us both to pose for the camera by holding up a toy. I obliged, but Winston just looked on. I show you this picture so you will take note of how clean yours truly was before Winston and I began to play:

And here's the "after" shot, taken a mere ten minutes later:

I'm adding a blog to the "About Law" list on the right (scroll down). "Velvel on National Affairs" is written by Dean Lawrence Velvel of the Massachusetts School of Law at Andover. This is serious commentary; a cut above my usual fare. Enjoy.

Yeah, I definitely dig the blow dryer. I know when the old dame is about to blow her hair dry in the morning. She leaves the bathroom door open for me--heaven. I walk back and forth behind her, pressing up against her legs on every pass--that way I get warm on both sides.

Don't think I haven't noticed, though, that the entryway to the livingroom has been blocked off. O woodpile! My woodpile!

Saint and his best buddy, Jackson