I should have listened to my mother.

Over the weekend, Kevin & I started our next home improvement project. We decided to use MDF which is really cheap man made wood. I think they compress sawdust or something to make it. It’s solid as a rock and heavy. Most importantly, it’s really cheap so we picked a bunch up and got to work.

As we quickly learned, MDF produces a ton of sawdust when you cut it so we set up shop outside on the driveway. While Kevin cut, I held and managed to somehow always end up downwind. After an hour or so for breathing MDF dust, I began to not feel so hot. My throat was prickly, my nose was running and I was having a hard time catching my breath.

Then I swear I heard my mother saying, “why aren’t you wearing a dust mask???” I quickly ran downstairs and grabbed one but it was too late, the damage was done. I’m still coughing up gunk like crazy. I can’t go near the wood without having a reaction so poor Kevin has been on his own. He, of course, refuses to wear a mask. Foolish boy.

I’ve been nursing my lungs cause Round Two begins this weekend. Thankfully, we are done with the MDF and will be moving on to good old pine. And, I’ll have my mask firmly in place thank you very much.

I think I’m turning into my mother!

Today was tough since I had to take the girls into the vet for their yearly check up. Kevin is a whimp and totally useless when it comes to getting the little spitting fur balls into their cages so I decided to go it alone this year. I am very glad to say that I currently typing with all ten fingers which is a good thing.

The best news is that big fat fatty has lost a whole pound and is now a svelte 16 lbs kitty cat. The vet thought my celebrating was a bit premature because she should be closer to 10lbs. Of course, when she walks over you at 2am it feels much closer to 50lbs so every pound less is fine by me.

They have not yet forgiven me for the aweful vet visit and are currently hiding under the bed but I’m sure with a little Fancy Feast, all will be forgiven.

Here kitty kitty kitty.

Good news! Frankenstein is back on its feet!

This weekend, Kevin began to upgrade my computer. He strung a large wire from the basement out to the backyard. This was attached to a long metal rod that I held in the air waiting for a strike of lightening. I heard lots of cackling and swearing coming from the house and then the cry, “IT’S ALIVE….IT’S ALIVE! Windows has detected to new devices!” I ran in to find it was all true. Of course, Frankenstein wobbles when you type and makes this weird rasping noise when you insert a CD but it does actually work. How important are aesthetics when it comes to a computer anyway?

So to atone for my lack of posting, I give you, the Dining Room Project.

As a PG-13 preview, know that we are currently working on something so big, we almost came to blows over the weekend. But I’ve said too much.

No, I haven’t forgotten about the pictures. I’m working on it. But I have appeared to lose my mind. This morning, I went downstairs and made coffee like normal. Grind coffee beans, add filter, scoop coffee, pour water into coffee maker and turn on. I then wandered out of the kitchen. Ten minutes later, I smelled the brewing coffee and decided to grab a cup. But when I went back to the kitchen, I realized my mistake. There, sitting next to the coffee maker, was the coffee pot.

Coffee on the counter, on the floor, soaking into my bagels. It was a disaster. How could I have turned on the machine but forgotten to replace the pot? Duh. The sad part is my coffee maker has this niffty feature that lets you remove the pot while it’s brewing so you can pour a quick cup of coffee. But if you take the pot out and forget to replace it, this backs up the coffee makes causing water overflow through the coffee grinds. So not only was my kitchen covered in coffee, it was also swiming in coffee grounds.

So I spent a good 15 -20 minutes wiping coffee grounds off my counter. I knew I had to get right back on the horse so I decided to suck it up and try to make another pot. Success! Yum.

Artie is doing much better and life has more or less settled back into normalicy. Just a short post today to tell you I’m working on the dining room pictures. Check back later to ooooh and ahhhhh your little hearts out.

And yes, I will consider taking commisions for other wall work. It would be a shame not to spread talent like mine amoungst friends.

Yesterday, Artie started pooping blood.

It started off like a normal day, Artie body slammed the bed around 9am, chased the cats downstairs and waited for me to roll my lazy bones into some clothes and down the stairs. While I stumbled around the bathroom, he danced in anxious circles around my feet waiting for the magic words – wanna go bye bye?

The walk seemed normal enough. He treed a few squirrels, chased a cat or two over a fence and tried to eat a couple of gardeners. About ten minutes into the walk, he assumed the squat position. Like a dutiful owner, I always bring a bag. When he was done, I scooped and we continued on our way. We only got another block before he was doing the hunching hieny again. This time, it was the runs. While I watched and contemplated whether or not to try and pick up that mess, I saw the blood. It wasn’t too much but it was noticeable. I decided to turn around a call the vet ‘cause I wasn’t going to take any chances. One more block and he went back into squat mode. Only this time, there was no poop, only a flow of mucus and blood. A lot of blood.

So by now, I’m panicking. We sprint home and I call the vet. It’s 10am and the first opening they have isn’t until 2:45. The next four hours were the longest hours of my life. The hardest part was that Artie seemed so fine. We was spatting with the cats over who got the sofa, snorking his food, and sleeping with his head resting in my lap just like always.

Now, I have never had a dog of my own before so this whole pooping blood thing really had me scared. In those four hours, I had convinced myself that he had some sort of inoperable intestinal cancer and would have to be put to sleep immediately. Just the idea of having to go through out the day without my dog, well, it was like someone stabbed an icicle in my heart.

You see, Artie has really turned into my best friend since I’ve started staying home. He’s my morning alarm clock, my exercise buddy, my lunch date and gardening pal. He follows me from room to room while I work on my crazy projects and reminds me to take a break and smell the roses. He’s my doorbell and security alarm. He’s, well, he’s really my shadow. I mean, right now he’s wedged under my feet snoring away. There are better places to sleep in this house than under the computer desk, but since that’s were I am, that’s where he’ll be too.

So it was with great trepidation that I loaded him into the car and drove to see the doctor (who was pretty cute by the way). He ran some tests and listened to his belly and told me that no, my dog was not dying from intestinal cancer. He merely had an upset tummy. Probably ate some cat poop or drank some bad rainwater. Just put him on a bland diet of rice and cottage cheese for a week and he’ll be as good as new.

I was astounded and relived. He’s always drinking stagnant rainwater and eating gross stuff so I’m not too surprised. The vet gave us some pills and sent us home, very relieved.

Today, the walk went great. Treed a squirrel, barked at a kid, tried to eat a mini-poodle, and had a nice blood free poop. Looks like the fat sausage is going to live after all. Oh yes, during the weight in, he was a whopping 96 lbs. At his rate, I may have to change his name to enormous sausage.