OUR NEW(ly painted) FURNITURE!!

Okay, so, here's the deal. I could probably count up the hundreds of dollars that Dan and I have spent on furniture since we've been married on one hand, with a few fingers left over...

We have been very lucky that:
a) we have inherited a lot of furniture from our parents, and
b) that we have rather eclectic taste in furniture (okay, at least I do...).

Many of the pieces we have purchased have come from thrift shops and Craig's List. :)

Here's the only problem with that: sometimes when you put it all together it doesn't match. Yes, I do realize that's sort of the point when it comes to eclectic styling, but at some point it's got to come together a little bit, right?!

So, after I had the conversation with Dan that began with him laughing at me and ended in him saying "No, we are not buying new furniture." I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Over winter break (that's the only time I can accomplish anything is over breaks) I decided that our bedroom furniture--which consists of 2 matching night stands from Walmart, 1 bed we inherited from Dan's grandma, and 1 dresser we inherited from my grandma--needed to match.

I don't have a before picture, but imagine four different pieces of furniture, three different types of wood. What better way to make them match than with paint! So we painted our bedroom furniture white. Here's how it turned out:


It was a lot of work! More than I thought it would be, but it was fun!

So, I guess you could say that I caught the fever (maybe from the paint fumes)...

This break, I decided that our mismatch of living room furniture--which consists of a coffee table, a tv table, a sofa table, a small entry way table, and a bookshelf...again, all different woods and colors--should also match.

So here's what I did over this break:

The T.V. table:



The coffee table:


The sofa table:



The bookshelf:



The entryway table:


Here's what it looks like all together (I realize that in this picture you can actually only see the coffee table-the rest are too spread out-but at least it gives an idea of what they look like all together) :



In the end, even if I couldn't buy NEW furniture, I at least feel like we have new furniture, even if it's just a new color.


P.S. The only problem came when the fur children decided that they wanted to help paint too. Here's them looking sad and depressed when I told them they couldn't help. I didn't use words so much as imprisonment:



P. P. S. I also found out that I LOVE distressing things! You can't mess up! It's perfect for me (cause I mess up a lot!!!).

Ugh...itunes...

Okay, so it's...11:34 p.m. (which didn't used to be late, but now that I'm 29 going on 89 it seems really late, and I'm really tired!)

Something unexplainable and unacceptable happened to our itunes account! Half of our music disappeared! I don't know what happened. Dan says it's my fault, but I don't think it is!

One day our music was there, then the next, half of it is missing!

I located the elusive music, but now I am currently having to go through and find each individual song and re-save it in the correct place.

DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT TAKES?!

At the bottom of our itunes page it says that we have, like 14 days worth of music. I'm pretty sure it's going to take me that long to re-find all of these stinkin' files and save them in the right place!

I am almost positive that there is a better and more effective way to do this. If you know what it is, keep it to yourself thank-you-very-much. Because by the time you tell me it will be too late. I will be done.

Never-the-less, I am sure there is a better way to do this, I just don't know it.

So for right now, I'm sitting here, blinking to attempt to clear my bleary eyes, half listening to some asinine news magazine show (cause I can't find the remote, and am too annoyed to look for it very hard), and waiting for my dinosaur of a computer to find these crazy music files.

**Grrr** Curse you ipod/itunes (whatever) for making us all so dependent upon you for our musical needs! Curse you!

P.S. I know where all of my CD's (which contain much of the same music that is on my ipod) are. They don't mysteriously move themselves to a new location and force me to locate them all individually. Neither do my even more archaic cassette tapes.... **grrr** again...

I AM A BAD PET PARENT!!!!

Okay, so I thought I was doing okay.

Since we adopted Daisy I've been bathing her once a week, I've been brushing and blow drying her after I bathe her...

I thought we were doing fine.

Until yesterday.

I decided that I would take her to the professional groomer for a special treat (hee hee...little did I know...)

It being my first official day of Spring Break, I was not, shall we say, up and/or dressed by her 11:00a.m. appointment time. So, I sent Dan and Daisy on their way with specific instructions for Dan to have them trim her all around, clip her nails, clean her ears, shave down her potty path (eww.), etc.

I will admit that I was particularly excited by the prospect of the groomer being able to get a bow into her fur (hair...whatever, Lisa) since whenever I try to put one in she suddenly turns herself into a doggie contortionist with opposable thumbs and yanks it out. *tear*

So, you can imagine my absolute shock when Dan called and said that "Chip" the groomer said that she had matts and he was going to have to shave her down.

My jaw hit the floor.

"Honey?" Dan asked hestitantly.

"How can she have matts? I bathe and brush her every week!" I demanded of my innocent don't-kill-the-messanger husband.

"I don't know, but he showed them to me, and they're pretty bad." He answered.

"But dogs who don't have owners who love them get mats!" I insisted. Not dogs who's human mothers chase them around all day trying to put bows in their hair! I added internally.

I was floored. How could this happen? Since September when she had to be shaved nearly bald because she'd been a stray I'd been working on growing her fur (hair...WHATEVER, Lisa!) out so that she didn't look like a cancer victim. Now here we were right back in the same position. How could this be?!

Two hours later when "Chip" called to say she was "ready" (a.k.a. satisfactorily butchered) and we could pick her up, I'm pretty sure I heard an underlying tone in his voice. The kind that says "I guess you can come get your dog back so you can abuse and neglect her some more. See you in another three months, you neglectful dog owner you. Don't forget to feed her once in a while."

When Dan brought her home (I couldn't bring myself to face "Chip's" condesending stare.), she actually doesn't look THAT bad. Just different than how I pictured.

I only cringed a little bit when Dan told me that "Chip" had given us the Adoption Package for people who rescue strays and bring them in to get groomed.

"Did he think that we just barely rescued her?" I asked. Maybe we could play it off that that's why she was in such bad shape.

"No, I told him the truth." Dan stated matter of factly. Why did he have to choose now to be honest? When my pride is on the line!?

Now when I look into her eyes (which I can see now, thanks to "Chip's" clipper skills, not his fur (hair...whatever, LISA) dressing and bow-putting-in skills) I think that I see her silently asking me "Why, mom? Why?!"

But maybe I'm overreacting...just a little bit. Maybe...

P.S. They did in fact give her a rather fetching striped bandana, which she is enjoying chewing up immensely.

8 Item Tag...

I'm joining the TagEd - You're it now! Here are the rules: 1) Post rules on your blog 2) Answer the six '8' items 3) Let each person know by leaving them a comment.

8 favorite TV shows:
1. Scrubs
2. Grey's Anatomy
3. The Office
4. The Soup
5. The Colbert Report
6. The Simpsons
7. Phineas and Ferb
8. America's Next Top Model (ashamed, ashamed, I am ashamed!!)
Since we got our DVR I am a TV junkie (even though I rationalize it by saying that we're just more SELECTIVE about our tv viewing now...)

8 Things I did yesterday:
1. Laundry (finally! Gotta love spring break!!)
2. Realized I am a bad pet parent (see future post)
3. Procrastinated grocery shopping another day
4. Ate dinner with friends (yummy! Her mom cooked it, and she used to be a home ec teacher!)
5. Dusted my house (achoo!)
6. Called a "landscape engineer" (named Pablo) to tackle the weeds in our front yard that already kicked my butt
7. Paid bills (BORING)
8. Watched The Golden Girls and missed my friend Mandi (sad!)

8 Things I'm looking forward to:
1. Spring Break: I'm still counting Spring Break (even though it's already here!) cause I am super-stoked to have a week off.
2. The Week of May 19th -24th: My friend Kim comes to visit from Ohio (yeah!!!)
3. My Dog's Fur (hair..whatever, Lisa) Growing Back (*tear*)
4. AIMS testing being over with (blech!)
5. My Birthday! (because I'll be in Utah for the 1st annual Rebekah/David/Teagan/Grandma Bullock/Patrick & Christy Anniversary/Birthday/Memorial Extravaganza. Hosted by the one and only Suzy-Q)
6. Switching health insurance to a company that actually provides...health...insurance...(stupid cigna)
7. Swimming weather (it's ALMOST here...as soon as it's here, I'll want it gone again...)
8. Multi-cultural Fair (I get to dress up like a Greek Goddess!)

8 Favorite restaurants:
1. Carrabas
2. Macarroni Grill
3. Chick-Fil-A
4. In and Out
5. Chipotle
6. Taco Bell (*cringe* I know, but it's true...)
7. PoPo's
8. Rubio's

8 Things on my wish list:
1. A Baby :)
2. A savings account that is...shall we say...larger...
3. Happiness for my Dad
4. More funding for education (I can't help it...it's true)
5. To move back to Utah
6. My husband to finish his education
7. For Dan's socks and various other dirty items to magically find their way to the hamper (it's really hard for him to find it, apparently...)
8. A new fridge (mine's ugly and doesn't match the rest of the appliances (*frown*)

People I tag:
Okay, everyone I know who blogs was already tagged by SueAnn, so...NO ONE. :) Thanks for reminding me how pathetic I am...

"Tomacco-cicles"

Okay, so the other day Dan and I were craving ice cream.

So, of course, I sent Dan out to get some. Apparently, he decided that it would be better (not cheaper, but better) to get our ice cream from a convenience store rather than our local neighborhood grocery store. Whatever...

So he comes home with two of those ice cream cone things with the chocolate and nuts on top (if you don't know what I mean, see the picture below.)Which is fine. I am a big fan of those ice cream cones. However...when I opened mine up I immediately wrinkled my nose.

"Honey, does this smell funny to you?" I asked.
Dan sniffed his. "Yeah, it kind of does, but I can't tell what it smells like though..."
I sniffed mine again, and decided that it was mostly the cone that smelled so wrong.
"It smells like...like...cigarettes!" I finally decided. "Eww."

We decided to name them "Tomacco-cicles" after The Simpsons episode where the family moves to the country to become farmers and Homer accidentally creates a tomato-tobacco hybrid plant that he calls "Tomacco" when he plants a little bit of everything and fertilizes it with plutonium. (Remember? Ralph says "Eww, Daddy, this tastes like Grandma!")

I do not know WHY these particular ice cream cones smelled like cigarettes, nor do I necessarily WANT to know. I do know, however, that the totally unappealing smell of these particular cones did not stop my husband from popping the top off, throwing the cone away, and eating the ice cream (from both cones; I didn't want mine for some reason...). Nor did it stop him from returning to that same store again on another day to purchase...the same product.

Hmmm...I guess "Tomacco-cicles" are as addictive in real life as their name sake was on The Simpsons...

Fur Children

So, I decided that our blog would not truly be complete until I included at least one post about our little furry friends. For those who don't know (look at me, writing as if my readership extends beyond the two people I know have read this already, and probably won't read it again...) we have two dogs, Lucy and Daisy.
Since we, as of yet, have no human children to call our own we have settled on referring to our pets as our "fur children". I have rationalized that calling them fur children (and treating them as such) is not pathetic for a couple of reasons:
a) Dan and I are married. If it were just me, living alone with a steadily increasing brood of dogs/cats etc. THAT would be pathetic. But it's not. I have a husband. See...the difference...see...?
b) we don't costume them. (Sorry Lisa) Okay, disclaimer: I once bought Lucy a sweater when we went to Utah and I was afraid she would be cold in the snow. I think she wore it once and then tried to chew it off.
So, our fur children. Actually, now that I think of it, it may just be me that calls them that. I don't recall Dan ever using the term. In fact, I am now remembering some indistinct mumbling coming from somewhere in his vicinity when I have referred to them as fur children in the past...hmm. Wonder what that's about...?
Anyway, Lucy and Daisy. We have had Lucy since she was about eight months old. We adopted her from the pound. She is, in my humble opinion, the smartest dog in the world. Not to mention the cutest. When I think about how we adopted her I realize now how lucky we are. We had been looking for a dog to adopt for about two weeks and had just lost out on a lottery at the Humane Society. We were on our way home and passed the pound, which we had checked at least a dozen times before, only to find cats and pit bulls. But for some reason that afternoon I begged Dan to stop there again.
As we were walking through I was beginning to think that our trip had been another waste of time. Then we came to her kennel. All I remember seeing was a brown and white blur that was jumping up to about eyebrow height (which was no small feat, considering she is less than two feet high!)
When I asked the volunteer if we could take her out of the kennel I saw Dan raise his eyebrows skeptically.
I, of course, chose to ignore him. (Even though we'd only been married a couple of years at that point, I was already pretty good at it!) The volunteer put her on a lead and we walked to the hallway which apparently served as the get-to-know-the-animal-you-may-take-home area. We spent about five minutes with her. I could tell that Dan's concerns were not put to rest, since most of the five minutes was spent like this: Lucy jumping around everywhere in an attempt to lick our foreheads, me trying to get her to calm down, and Dan watching it all from the corner.
"Can we take her home?" I asked. "I guess..." said Dan.


So, we took her home and, amazingly, she turned out to be an (almost) perfect dog!
That's the story of her pretend birth that I tell her every year on her pretend birthday.

Funnily enough, we got Daisy in a similar manner. Kind of...
One day last September I was walking into my classroom in the morning. I saw in the distance our janitor leading what appeared to be a dirty dust mop around on a lead. Now, mangy dogs showing up on our campus is not unusual. One of my fellow teachers ended up taking her to get groomed (she was a mess!) and taking her home.
It took me about one day to convince Dan that we should go see the dog. We thought that she might be a Lhasa Apso, and Dan just kept saying that he "didn't want a little dog". Whatever...
So, long story...less long, we saw her, decided that she was pretty cute, even though she looked a little like a pink and gray shaved rat (since all her matted fur had to be shaved off) and took her home.
We have learned a few things since bringing her home:
1: There is a HUGE difference between dog breeds. Lucy is made up of breeds that are almost exclusively interested in pleasing their people. She would rather die than disappoint us. Daisy is made up of breed(s) that don't really care very much about pleasing others. In fact, I am convinced that her main goal in life is to find as many ways as possible for her people to please HER! This aspect of Daisy's personality makes Lucy VERY uncomfortable. In fact, it is not uncommon in our house to see Dan or myself attempting to get Daisy to obey, while Lucy repeatedly does whatever command it is we are giving to Daisy. It's almost like she's trying to say "Look, here's how you do it, see! It's not that hard, just do it!"
2: Having one dog sleep on your bed with you is okay (as long as she stays on my side and doesn't touch Dan). Having two dogs sleep on your bed with you is...too much. Having one dog sleep in bed with you while the other dog is in her crate makes for a sleepless night. For some reason Daisy is perfectly content to sleep in HER crate, as long as Lucy is also sleeping in hers. However, Lucy being allowed to sleep on the bed while Daisy is relegated to her crate is, in Daisy's opinion, unacceptable.
3. Dan and I are, in reality, not the master dog trainers that Lucy let us believe that we were. Enough said...
4. Evolutionarily speaking: Lucy is running laps around Daisy. For example: Daisy wants any toy that Lucy has. She will not hesitate to come over and snatch it from her. For whatever reason, Lucy does not object to this. However, she has learned that all she needs to do is to get another toy, which Daisy will promptly snatch from her, leaving the original toy (the one that Lucy really wanted in the first place) available. To date, Daisy has not caught on to this ploy. Also, if Daisy is playing with a toy that Lucy wants, Lucy will go around behind her and pull on her tail (which Daisy HATES). Daisy will drop the toy and whip her head around. At this point Lucy will snatch the abandoned toy and run off with it. Poor Daisy...
5. Having two dogs that are young and energetic is not the same as having two dogs when one of them is 15 years old, one-eyed, deaf, and perfectly content to lay in the corner and sleep all day. This is especially true when going to Petsmart. Apparently, although they only have a combined weight of 45 lbs, when leashed and somehow working together, they can pull a small car.
Overall, I am very glad that we have these dogs in our lives. Their entertainment value alone is priceless. Not to mention their companionship and devotion. :)

"Mantrums"

I know I just started this blog, but I couldn't resist posting about this.
So, this weekend I bought a roast, and planned to cook it on Saturday. However, I ended up running more errands than I planned, and it didn't get cooked. Sunday came around and I intended to fix the roast on that day, but, well...it didn't happen either.
So by today I was fairly sure that I needed to fix this roast or risk some sort of food borne illness that comes from consuming overly ripe meat. The problem was that my dad was coming over for dinner at six, I had a meeting at school until 4:00, and the roast needed to braise for at least 3 hours. Solution: I texted Dan the directions to start the roast, figuring I would be home in time to repair any real damage and save dinner.
It should be noted: my husband, bless his heart, is not what I would call....culinarily inclined. He has no desire to be either. But after I explained to him that he either needed to start the roast at 2:30 or wait until 8:00 to eat dinner, he was willing to help.
I came home from school at about 4:30. The roast was happily braising in the pot, it smelled great, everything looks perfect. Dan even tells me that I can go clean out and organize the bathroom cabinet I have been wanting to get to and he'll finish up dinner. Wow, right!?
So, while I was in the bathroom organizing our extra toothpastes, and travel sized shampoos and conditioners, Dan comes in and, with his hands behind his back, tells me that in the process of preparing the roast he broke something. My heart sinks. I'm wracking my brain trying to remember if any of our valuables or breakables were missing from their normal spots when I came in the house.
To my relief and (to his chagrin) amusement, Dan pulls out a pair of tongs from behind his back. As the picture shows, they have been smooshed and bent beyond repair.
"How did you manage that?" I asked incredulously.
"I don't wanna talk about it..." he mumbles. It turns out the tongs made the grievous error of not holding on tightly to the roast as Dan was browning it, causing hot grease to splatter on him and burn him. In response to their failure he flung them across the room, where, given the appearance of them, I can only guess they met a force stronger and harder than them and crumpled to the floor.
This, ladies and gentleman, can only be described as a "mantrum". A tantrum thrown by a grown man.
Believe it or not, this is not my first experience with the "mantrum". Unfortunately, I have never witnessed one personally, but the aftermath is always spectacular.
Last year it was the crumpled and fizzing Squirt cans I found in the sink who I later learned had a brother who had the nerve to fall out of their cardboard container while Dan was carrying in the groceries. The other cans, although innocent, paid for their brother's mistake by being pummeled by Dan's fist (actually, Dan's fist came out the worst for it...but don't try pointing that out anytime within a month of the "mantrum" incident).
Before that it was the cardboard shake can that slipped from it's plastic bag while being carried from the grocery store to the car. None of the other cans even made it to the car, let alone home. I have also heard from eyewitness accounts that passerby actually stopped and stared slack-jawed as this "mantrum" progressed.
I guess, in the end, I'm just grateful that the "mantrum's" fury is usually expended on inanimate objects, and not me or my fur children.
We needed a new pair of tongs anyway. When I shop for new ones I will try to make sure they are up to demanding tasks they will be put through.