tedwords

Now that the play seems to be headed in the right direction, I can turn my attention to more important problems. And by that, I am of course talking about:

The dog's unnatural obsession with our kitten's crap.

No, seriously. We have to keep the bathroom door where the kitty does her business guarded like Fort Knox. Otherwise, the damn bitch will scamper in there and start sticking her nose in where it's definitely not wanted, hunting around for a turd treasure and then guzzling down each and every one as if she were sucking down shrimp at an all-you-can-eat buffet. choc ice cream

It's. Kind of. Gross.

Oh, and as a result, we have kitty litter droplets covering our mud room, which means we have to vacuum the damn area at least twice a week.

I actually asked one of the ladies at Kyra's doggie day care about this. It's not the most pleasant topic in the world, but this is the lady who never stops delighting in telling me that Kyra and her dog Wilson are best friends, and she can tell because they love to spend the day humping each other. I swear to God, every time I see her, she mentions the word "hump." Hump hump hump.

The other day I asked her, "Aren't you glad people aren't like dogs?"

And she said, "I know! Otherwise, I'd be sniffing your butt and humping you right now!"

I can't lie. Even for me, that response made me a little mortified. I changed the subject, really quickly.

Oh wait. Where was I? Oh, right. The all-you-can-eat buffet. So I asked her about it, and she didn't bat an eyelash. "Oh yeah, there are a bunch of dogs here who love doing that! We have to make sure that the poop is taken care of right away, or it will get gobbled up before you know it."

Then she paused. Oh, God. A pause. She lowered her voice and moved in for the kill. "In fact, this is kind of gross, but--""

Inwardly, I steeled myself. Because I just knew, I just knew, it truly was REALLY going to be gross...

"--there's this one dog here that must have really sweet-tasting poo, because the other dogs don't even wait for it to hit the ground! The minute her butt puckers, they are racing over to taste what comes out! I tell you, her butt is like a soft serve ice cream dispenser!"

Without the cone, evidently. You just stick your mouth under the dispenser, pull down on the handle and out it comes...

Anyway, we're moving the kitten's litter box downstairs into the cellar REAL soon.

Last night at around three in the morning I woke up with a start.

The kitten wiggled a little next to my feet. Carefully, I lifted myself up out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. It sucks getting older. Then, once relieved of my burden, I headed to my study, which is located down the hall, right next to the stairway that leads to the dark spot. stairs 3

I don't know why I think of it that way. Corb once said that he was sitting in the living room one time with the lights off and he saw what looked like a dark cloud hanging around that area. It's the one part of the house that neither one of us like hanging around.

Both the kitten and Oliver were standing outside of the den as I padded my way down the hall. Both were staring intently down the stairs, as if there was something fascinating that was absorbing their attention.

"What's going on, guys?" I said, probably too loudly, given the time of night. Trying to chase away the goblins, I guess. I moved to the edge of the stairs, looked down. Nothing to see. The room downstairs was dark, save for the night lamp that I neglected to turn off when we went to bed.

I turned around to sit down in the den. And as I turned my back, I distinctly heard the snapping of fingers on the floor below.

What the--?

I didn't have the nerve to go downstairs to find out what was going on. Instead, I turned the lights off and headed back to bed.

Fast forward to this morning. Corb had already showered and left for work, and I was alone in the house. I woke up, fed the zoo, and put Kyra on her leash to do her morning constitutional. I brought her to the edge of the house, waited for her to go pee. Then I moved to the other side of the lawn and started walking her through the sweet clover that smells like blueberries (I have no idea what it really is).

Just as she was about to do her doody, she looked up. She barked, focused on the house.

"What's up?" I asked. "Come on, let's get this--"

But she was no longer interested in going to the bathroom. She strained at her leash, looking to move back to the house. She kept staring at the picture window that offered a view of the dark spot, barking away. I followed her back into the house. She made her way directly to that dark spot and stopped barking the minute she reached it.

No more barking. She stopped immediately, as if nothing had happened.

Conclusion: the dark spot doesn't like us going to the bathroom.

I guess I should be freaked out by this, right? Not really, though. My house doesn't really scare me at all. I'm still convinced there's nothing evil or too scary about the place. But what is it about animals and their ability to see beyond the things that our eyes are blind to?

I'm kind of grateful I'm not a dog. But on the plus side, we are going to have one hell of a Halloween party here.

PS: My book, Pictures of You, is available as a free Kindle download today and tomorrow! Check it out if you haven't already.

Corb and I saw this yesterday as we were driving to get groceries and it made us laugh so much he had to pull over and take a photo.

Now I grant you, I did a little checking on the interwebs yesterday, and there are a lot of people out there, it turns out, who make the same mistake out there. Even so: wouldn't King Jesus be a great name for an amusement park ride? I know I'd want to ride it! Or maybe instead of the bible story of Jesus riding in town on a donkey, everyone got to hop on him instead?

It's the little things that keep us amused.

Okay, enough of that. We had a great week-end. How about you? Yardwork and house stuff, mostly. We did watch the last episode of series two of House of Cards, and I have to say, although I still love the show and don't want to give anything away, it occurred to me that the whole

show so far is based on the supposition that the President is a complete moron. I honestly can't fathom a real life president listening to everything his vice president says and then just carrying it through without a thought. Oh wait...there was George Bush with Cheney...

We also did some antique shopping and found something for the kitchen this week-end:

It's a partners desk, built in the late 1800s. It had been at the Admiral Dewey Inn located in South Kingstown, Rhode Island for years. Corb's thought is to strip it, repaint the sides, and place it on a platform so that it can serve as a kitchen island for us. It certainly has a ton of drawers, and it will be his first renovation project for the house, so he spent the whole week-end plotting and planning what he would do with it.

I will be sure to post the finished result here when I get it as "Exhibit A" in the "Corb's restored marvels" collection. That is, if it doesn't suck. If it sucks, you'll never hear another word about it!

Anyway. have to get ready for work. Y'all have a great day!

One of the things I had most been looking forward to when it came to my first spring here at Green Victoria involved the flowers. "You're not going to believe what is going to pop out of the ground!" the previous gays had enthused after they sold us the house. Money? Lawn gnomes? Pool boys? "No, no, no. There are so many beautiful flowers in the yard. You are going to be amazed." Oh, that.

Now that springtime is with us and the snow has finally disappeared, I didn't have long to wait. Last week, we were walking down the path leading to the house and suddenly, right there: a beautiful purple posy! Or tulip, or something like that. I'm not really good at identifying those things. Sprouting up bravely through a clutch of dirt and grass. The first sign of the season. It was glorious! No, really. It made me happy to be alive.

The following morning, I woke up, determined to take a photo for Facebook, to share that purple posy with the world. I grabbed my smart phone, scurried downstairs, opened the door, looked outside...

And realized that some dumb deer had eaten up all of our fledgling flowers.

Dammit! Well, we knew that they were a problem. A lot of our leaves had been consumed during the winter, and one or two times, when we had woken up at a particularly ungodly hour, we were able to catch a glimpse. And I don't mind an occasional leaf or two, I'm perfectly happy to share those with Bambi, but eating our flowers? Well, that was beyond the pale. SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE.

Quick as a wink, Corb did some research. "It says here that deer do not like certain smells, like the smell of decaying fish heads," he said.

Oh, great! I just can't wait to drive down to the local fish stand and pick up a bucket of fish heads. That should look really attractive on our front lawn. A bunch of smelly dead fish next to the pansies, with their dead unblinking eyes staring up at you as you walk by. Nice.

"My hairdresser said they don't like human hair, and it can be used as a deterrent. People would collect hair from her shop for that use. You should do that," suggested a friend.

Great idea. Next to our floppy fish heads, I can sprinkle a bunch of human hair. Maybe from the top of someone's head, but who knows? Maybe I will mix it up and throw in some pubic hair, every so often.

"Remember Doc Hollywood? Human urine does the trick," suggested another friend.

Even better! Every morning, as I wake up, instead of heading to the bathroom, I can walk downstairs, open the door, and taking my morning wizz on the porch, making sure to urinate over the dead fish heads and human hair that I've collected from a variety of body parts. Those flowers should be in perfect bloom with all that!

And then the one I was waiting for: "A shot through the heart works. And you can fill your fridge with lovely venison for stews and kebobs."

"Should I leave the dead deer rotting in the flower beds for a few days, as a warning to the others?" I asked.

"No," replied my deer friend

fixnwrtr. "Hanging the deer upside down and slitting its throat so the blood drains into the flower beds would be better, so plant flowers that need blood meal grow better."

So, bottom line? This spring, if you want to visit my house, come on over! It's pretty easy to find, too: we're the only Victorian in town with flower beds covered in fish heads and human hair, with an upside down dead deer hanging down from a tree. Come by, say hi! You can always find me, and I'll be sure to wave back, promise! I'll be the one outside peeing over the flower beds.

That is...until the cops take me away...

Now that spring is finally with us, and we've got this home thing, this was the first week-end we really had to start all those outside things that responsible home-loving homeowners do every waking minute of their livings during the week-end. And p.s.: in case I haven't mentioned this before, I am completely inept when it comes to outdoor household duties.

It's definitely something I didn't miss when I left Josie with the homestead. Now, don't get me wrong: I can get the job done. But there is pain involved, and some things I really hated doing. I didn't miss not mowing a lawn for ten years, for example, after I moved out. Swollen

When Corb and I agreed to buy the house, we bought it with him clearly knowing this was a weakness on my part. There was no buyer beware, here. He knew that he liked to landscape and that I liked watching him landscape. Oh, yes, we agreed that I would help out. But there were limitations.

Anyway, we decided to start on the gutters this week-end. The gutters at Green Victoria are in dire need of doing. The previous owners had moved to Maine during the spring, and cleaning out leaves and other debris from the downspouts of their previous monstrosity had not been a priority. So, yesterday, we went to Loewe's, bought ourselves a nice long hose and a big huge ladder, and there I was, climbing up ladders, dredging out crap with my garden gloves, and then, watering the downspouts to make sure they were clear and free of the muddy sludge that had formed at the bottom.

And I was pretty good at it, too, until we reached the back gutters. The ladder had to go up a lot higher to reach them, and I suddenly realized I wasn't the biggest fan of heights. Corb was at the bottom, though, holding the ladder and coaxing me through it.

"I can't stand this...this is too high up..." Some people whistle while they work, I keep up a steady monologue of insecurity and paranoia.

"You can do it. You're doing great!" shouted Corb encouragingly.

"There! I'm done!" And then, with the hose still running, I nervously threw it down and proceeded to step downward, when---

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Um? What?

I looked down, and there was Corb, gripping his right eye and screaming in pain. "I hate you! I hate you! I f***ing hate you!"

Oh no...had I...oh, dear. I had. As quick as I could, I climbed down the ladder to see if I could help. Corb was now kneeling on the ground, writhing in pain. "I'm blind...I'm blind...I can't see..."

"Oh my God, you're blind! You can't see!" I screamed out, bordering on the hysterical. "Waitaminute..." I looked over. "You don't have your glasses on..."

"Where are my glasses?" He looked at his hands. "Oh my God, I'm covered in blood!"

"Can I help you?" I looked over. Like an angel of mercy, an elderly gentleman had suddenly appeared near Corb. Oh great, of all times to meet the neighbors. He extended his hand. "My name is Dick Whitehead." Dick Whitehead? Who the hell has a name like Dick Whitehead? Suddenly my life was bordering on the surreal. "I'm a retired police officer. Is everything okay?"

"Oh. Hi!" I looked around nervously and shook his hand. "Yeah, we had a little accident with the--"

"Oh God, oh God! Ted, I f***ing hate you. I F***CKING hate you! Oh my God, it hurts so much!!!!"

The elderly gentleman turned a white shade of pale. "He doesn't usually swear like that, I swear."

###

For some reason, Dick Whitehead (who we have now taken to calling Dick Pimple) left quite quickly. And an hour later, we were driving to pick Theo up from work, without the need for an emergency room, but with the need of a bandage, which was now covered in blood. Corb had a terrible bruise under his eye...and a presentation to deliver in the morning.

"Oh God," I moaned as I was driving, reliving the incident in my head. "It was awful. I was so stupid and careless. How could I have thrown that hose down without looking? Without turning off the water? It was just stupid stupid stupid..." Then, another thought struck me. "Gah, I am so irresponsible! What would have happened if I had been up there with a CHAINSAW and done that? Your poor head would have been sliced off!"

Well, that got his attention. Corb stopped his groaning and looked over at me, eyes full of amazement (well, one eye, at least). "Ted, why in the hell would you be cleaning the gutters with a chainsaw?"

"That's not the point!" I said, wallowing in sadness. And then, another thought. "Oh my God! What if Kaeden had been down below?"

"Ted, why in the hell would your two year old grandson be holding the ladder while you cleaned the gutters with a chainsaw?" Then he held his eye and shook his head. "Please don't make me laugh. When I smile, my eye hurts..."

sun room
It may look pretty, but it's zombie Point of Entry #1

Aha! I've FINALLY found something to dislike about Green Victoria, the sleepy old house that Corb and I purchased a few months ago.

No, it's not Lake Tittypeepee, the small body of water that has formed in our front yard as a result of all the rains we've been having lately. We kind of like that (as well as the River Ragina that flows around the house...and yes, you can tell that we both have the mentality of ten-year-old boys, right?) No, this is something far, far more serious than that.

Deadly serious.

This past Saturday, as Corb finished watching Dawn of the Dead in the den, he looked over at me and said, "Our house would be the worst place in the world to hide during a zombie apocalypse."

And it's true! What were we thinking? This house is all open and windowy, containing plenty of glass that zombies who don't care about those things could crash and break, and then climb through. We'd have nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. We'd be reduced to zombie food, faster than you can sing the first lyric of that old Motown song!

Oh, there's the basement, I suppose. But that has windows, too, and besides, it's all cold and cementy, and who would really want to hide down there? It would not be a comfortable way to survive. Besides, I can't imagine that the zombies wouldn't find us down there in fairly short order and start gnawing away.

That does it. Come this week-end, I am heading straight to the nearest Home Depot and buying up as much plywood and nails as I can find, so I can better protect the homestead. Oh, this may seem a little extreme, but as every zombie movie created demonstrates, when the zombie apocalypse comes, it will be sudden and it will be swift, and there will be little time to prepare. So what if I have to wait decades, and maybe...even worse...NEVER. As every good Boy Scout will tell you (especially, as Tom Lehrer will tell you, if they come upon a Girl Scout who is similarly inclined), "Be prepared."

Or, maybe I'll just do nothing about it. I don't know. We'll see what the week-end brings.

St. Frankie is praying springtime comes REAL soon...

This week's project involved getting something underneath the lowest hanging chandelier. I banged my head on it a few weeks ago and almost passed out. It hurts! Annie did the same at one of our family pot roast parties and had a bump on head that lasted a few days.

But actually, truth be told, this project was a few weeks in the making. The table we purchased at Pier One a while back, and once we had it set up, we started thinking about getting comfy armchairs to circle the table. Perfect for playing board games, you know? But then we started scouting out antique stores and realized how expensive a proposition that would be. So, we ended up picking four armchairs at Home Goods--two differing types of fabrics, but connected by the rows of silver studs on running down all the chairs. Also, they bring out the two main color themes in the room: gold and blue (my beloved lime green twenties couch is still in this room, too, but I know something will be done with that someday. (A day that will make me tremendously sad.)

Just in time, too. This past week-end, Theo decided to hold a Super Smash Brothers party for about ten of his friends that started Saturday afternoon and lasted until Sunday afternoon. And after Valentine's Day, we have our next game party planned: Cards Against Humanity. My goal for this place to be Party Central is coming to pass!

A few folks have asked for photos inside the new home, and I know, I know, I've been really awful about sharing. So tonight, I trolled around my Facebook and Corb's to find some of my favorite photos to share. To start with, here's one of the exterior, shortly after the recent Stormageddon that blanketed much of the country last week. Just so you have the outside perspective.

( Read more... )

So, I am sitting here, typing away, my delicate posterior resting atop the mattress in our master bedroom, looking out the bay windows that provide a wonderful view of our front lawn. And, smiling.

Yep, we made it! We closed on the house on Friday afternoon, after the fire inspection passed in the morning and we made one final inspection of the premises. The closing was not without stress: when Corb typed in the address for the law firm where the signing was taking place, it defaulted to another location, a fact we didn't realize until five minutes before closing, which cost us another half an hour. We were freaking out. It was okay.

After that, the moving took place. Here's a tip: book horders make the worst movers. Corb was fit to be tied. Boxes upon boxes of heavy books had to make their way from the third floor apartment to the home. By the end of the evening, we were exhausted, and collapsed upon the mattress we threw down on our living room floor.

The next day, more moving too place. The heavy stuff with movers, in the morning. That afternoon, with the need to be careful about incurring any more debt eliminated, we finalized the purchase of our sofas, a bed for Ashes, and the purchase of a desk.

FOR MY OWN STUDY! Yes, finally, after only twenty freaking years of want, I have my own study. My own study! A place to write, to create, to work...to get Pictures of You wrapped up, and Late Night Show, and Amelia's Bones...and the Diva, of course. Definitely the Diva.

Mission accomplished. Sunday and Monday we moved more boxes, unpacked, and learned to relax in our new location. The kids have been with us since Sunday, the cats since Saturday. Our grizzled old feline, Haley, took to the place immediately. Our scaredy boy cat, Oliver, hid under a couch for the first few hours. Conversely, the more outgoing Theo took to the place immediately, while our scaredy girl child, Ashes, has taken to resting on the couch for two days. The first night, I slept next to her on the chair next to the couch. This is a house built in 1880, after all. I had to protect her from ghosts.

We are now 75 percent moved. Of the boxes we have moved, we are about 75 percent unpacked. Less than one percent of our Christmas presents are wrapped. And...I am 100 percent happy, right now. Our mission is accomplished. We have our dream house. Yes, dreams do come true.

Merry Christmas, my friends. I hope the next few days are a thing of wonder of beauty for you.

The closing is scheduled to take place in less than fifteen hours. There have been some slight delays because of the fire inspection and a minor issue involving the hard wired smoke detectors not being in sync. What a boy band from the eighties has to do with my smoke alarms is beyond me...

In any event, I am pretty damn excited. After ten years, I'm going to have my own home again!

It was almost exactly ten years ago that I moved out of the homestead, actually. Well, ten years and change. That's the beauty of Live Journal. You can check up on these things. Here's my journal entry from September 6, 2003:

I have decided that I will not be maudlin in any way, shape, or form this evening.

This is the start of the future. But I shall always look back on the past fondly. We've had a lot of good times.

Reminding the kids was weird tonight. Anticlimactic. Both Tiger and Ashley remembered our talk two weeks ago and didn't really wish to hear much more than "It's happening soon." So we let it go at that and focused on playing games, eating pizza, and taking Tiger out for a great walk at night.

Tomorrow's all set. Michael, Tommy, Buns and Tom, Pauline, Josie, and David will be on hand to help. It should really be more than enough. I want Pauline to go bed shopping with me afterward.

I will not go into memories here, although there have been so many. Laughs, fights, discussions, tears...we have been good companions to each other for years, and we shall remain good company to each other. We shall endure, with dignity, and continue forward, with our heads up. We have nothing to be ashamed of. We had a proud past, and we will do what so few are able to do in this society--continue this friendship, this love, without blame, without anger, with love and affection and with our kids and our heads intact. We shall celebrate and honor our past together even as we move forward into a new chapter in our lives.

Onward!

Why is it I still flinch and feel guilty when I read about talking with the kids about moving out? But the post did have a lovely sentiment, and I am so glad I maintained my friendship with Josie, despite everything. And I will not be maudlin this time around, either.

Really, the past ten years out in the wilderness haven't been too wild at all. They've had ups, they've had downs. They've had laughs, fights, discussions, tears...and lots of memories. Lots of good memories.

Now, I'm planting down stakes again. This time with Corb. A new homestead, a new era.

I'm going home again. :)

Profile

tedwords

May 2026

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
					1	2
3	4	5	6	7	8	9
10	11	12	13	14	15	16
17	18	19	20	21	22	23
24	25	26	27	28	29	30
31

Syndicate

Page Summary

Soft serve.
The dark at the bottom of the stairs
Tedwords Picture Parade: A comma can make all the difference
Read this post or I'll kill this deer with my bare hands
More Tales of the Hopeless Handyman
Run! Hide! Bay windows!
Meanwhile, back in Green Victoria...
Tedwords Picture Parade: This week's project
Tedwords Picture Parade: Inside the abode
Mission accomplished!
Closing time.

Style Credit

Style: Retro for Patsy by sforzinda

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated May. 6th, 2026 04:59 pm

Navigation

Entries tagged with home

Soft serve.

The dark at the bottom of the stairs

Tedwords Picture Parade: A comma can make all the difference

Read this post or I'll kill this deer with my bare hands

More Tales of the Hopeless Handyman

Run! Hide! Bay windows!

Meanwhile, back in Green Victoria...

Tedwords Picture Parade: This week's project

Tedwords Picture Parade: Inside the abode

Mission accomplished!

Closing time.