Tag: compound

Pitter patter of little feet at The Compound

Today was adoption day for Scout’s Honor, the animal rescue organization where Tim volunteers and through whom he fostered EZ, Tyson, Dexter, Maverick, and Pixie, with some overnights from several other dogs along the way. Once Tim adopted Pixie, putting the forever dog count on The Compound at four (including his Rex, and Tom’s and my Margot and Guinness), I think we knew future fosters could probably be only for weekends and shorter visits.

Except…today he texted me a photo of a couple of little rescues whose mom could no longer take care of them. At eight years and eight pounds each–well, I have a soft spot for this breed. So for at least a time, until they either find a great foster setup or the ideal forever home, we’ll hear the tiny clicking of mini-dachshund nails on the hardwoods again.

Meet Esther and Amber:

Margot and Guinness think they’re pretty silly, but so far, everyone gets along.

They like to sleep on the dog bed on my office floor, but right now, they’re burrowing UNDER a dog mattress inside the largest crate. They are two very sweet little girls who any home would be lucky to adopt.

Overall, I’d say I really like this weekend a LOT better than the same weekend last year. In 2009, it was great to see Greg and have king cake, but this year, Tim is safe at home with Rex and Pixie and that’s the best gift of all.

Random with photos

Meesh posted her look for Project Runway’s burlap challenge here. Check it out! Her model from last week, Merisel, has a lot of personality. I wonder how she and Figaro would get along?

We had such fun on Thursday night–with a birthday dinner here for Lindsey, followed by watching Project Runway amidst much snarking. This season is so much better than last season. Yay, PR, for getting your groove back!

I failed to take a lot of photos, but thought you might enjoy a few of the ones I managed. Afterward, Lynne spent the night, so I got to hang out with her dogs Friday while she was at work. (If you’ve been reading me, you already saw their photo in my Photo Friday submission.)

Tom also held up all my paintings one by one for everyone to see. This is the first time anyone’s seen all eighteen finished. I think it’s best not to put them online until after Té House of Tea exhibits them in February. I’m not planning on an “opening”–it’s very hard to schedule things with such busy local friends–but I do hope to spend a lot of my time at Té during the month and will let people know via e-mail, Twitter, and Facebook just in case anyone wants to stop by while I’m there. It’s such a cozy place to read, write, or just explore the Internet on my laptop–plus they have GREAT tea and food. They’re also cooking with locally-grown fresh food on Saturdays. What a jewel they are in our neighborhood.

My designs are done and ready for me to photograph and post tomorrow. I just need to finish Ragtime (such a good book) and cook chili to fight back against the cold snap.

Please click here for photos.

Oh, it is SO ON

I have been taking lots of drug-induced naps to get me through an obstinate headache. So I’m up in the middle of the night and I just heard something scratchy in my wall or in my attic. The exterminator will be called first thing Tuesday–NO MERCY FOR RATS. That’s either the next Cormac McCarthy novel or Coen brothers film.

On an unrelated note, happy birthday, Lindsey! You’ll get your present on Thursday. In the meantime, I hope you have a wonderful day!

More later…

A Dog’s Life

This is the BEST.DAY.EVER to be a dog at The Compound.

First of all, the exterminator is here–will be here for several hours, giving the canines reasons to sporadically break into howls and barks. He’s doing an exclusion at Tim’s apartment. For those who don’t remember the Great Rat Ordeal of Aught-Six, the exterminator did the same thing to the house because we had a darling group of rats–RATS! Not mice!–colonizing the attic. After the rats began dying and tried to kill Margot, we made a treaty. They would go away and we’d let bygones be bygones.

Sadly, in rats as in humans, a new generation comes along and refuses to heed the lessons of its elders or honor their peace pacts. Since these rogue rats couldn’t get access to the house, they decided to settle in the mostly unexplored territory of Tim’s apartment. (I say mostly because there are those pesky palmetto bugs who like to vacation there a couple of times a year, and that one squirrel who tried life as a squatter in one of the walls back in 2000.) Now the exterminator will deal with the rodents of a new generation and close off all their access points. Instead of using poison and risking more Margot drama, he’ll be setting traps. Which means that Tim, Rexford, and Pixie could potentially be awakened several times a night by the snap, crackle, and pop of rodent carnage.

In addition to the exterminator, Energy Company No. 1 came to check our meter, because Energy Company No. 2 has pretty much destroyed my happy mood since January 4. Over the howls of the hounds, the two [utility company name redacted] dudes gave me lots of useful information that may help us resolve a River Oaks-sized power bill in our little Montrose bungalow and garage apartment. (At least the rats are warm.)

Just when the dogs thought it couldn’t get any better, the mail carrier came at the exact time That Dog We Hate was being walked past the house. I’d write more, but they’ve finally fallen asleep, and I don’t want the key-tapping to wake them–d’oh! The exterminator just knocked and the hounds are back on the job!

Sneaky Pixie

How does a dog hide the evidence INSIDE a folded up sofa bed? That’s where Tom found the rest of the rotary cutter that I mentioned in my last post. Not only did she manage to hide it there, but how she got it in the first place from a room that’s usually inaccessible is another mystery. Maybe she’s learned to open doors?

She’s Pixie! Have you met?


At least now I know the blade is not traveling through her digestive system. Thanks, Tom!

Oh, Mercury

There have been so many screwy things happening with hot water heaters, furnaces, pipes, computers, royalty checks, miscommunications, automobiles–not just here at The Compound, but among our friends–that it occurred to me to check on that whimsical planet Mercury. He did, in fact, go retrograde on December 26 and doesn’t go direct until January 15. Suddenly it all makes sense. Don’t be mad at Mercury, though. Instead of being reactive and combative, consider this a time to gather information about things you want to change or correct. Once he goes direct, you’ll be ready to take action based on clear thinking and good decisions.

If all else is going wrong, eat delicious cornbread. Here’s a basket of it I baked the night of the Alabama-Texas game, using my old iron corn-pone skillet and a new divided iron skillet that Tim got me for Christmas. That afternoon, I received a text from Lynne inviting me to watch the game with her and others at her son’s house. I texted back that NO way was I going into enemy territory while the Tide was playing. Though Lynne’s an Auburn fan (her family school), she was pulling for Bama against Texas and didn’t want to be the only one with all those UT fans around her. Right after I invited her to The Compound, I got a text from Lindsey, who suggested combining a craft night with the game. Though Lynne and Kathy weren’t able to join us, Lindsey and Rhonda braved crossing the prairie in the frigid weather (four blocks!) to help us eat a big pot of chili, the cornbread, and queso and chips. Painting was the perfect activity for me while the game was on, ’cause I never actually sit near the TV on game days. This is because many times when Tom has been watching an Alabama game, the other team scores when I walk into the room. It’s almost like I’m the Crimson Tide’s Mercury in retrograde.

So I painted (I could see the TV from the dining room), Lindsey knitted while she sat in the living room with Tom, Rhonda knitted in the dining room with me, and Lynne, my sister, and I texted back and forth all kinds of OMGs and Roll Tides! and EEKs, and in the end, my alma mater won the National Championship in an exciting game. It’s been a long, long time.

Also last week, I was able to revisit the non-sports side of my college years when I talked to my wonderful friend Debbie on the phone. She was my college roommate through undergraduate school and again for a while during graduate school. Since she’s lived in Sweden for many years, her Christmas visits home provide our rare opportunities to catch up. Last year I was able to see her, but even a phone call reminds me how lucky I am to have her friendship.

Project Runway starts a new season next week, and people are asking if I’m going to be doing the challenges with my dolls. I plan to, even though both of my computers are making me wonder if I’ll even be online soon. Maybe things will be right again when the planets behave.

I did complete a “practice” project. In an effort to be greener, we decided to stop using paper napkins. I had a couple of sets of cloth napkins, and Tim bought a third at Christmas. I learned from a communal kitchen on my brother’s compound (it’s a family thing!) that the most eco-friendly way to use napkins is to launder them only when they need it. In that kitchen, they keep a board with all the residents’ names painted above the pegs where they hang their napkins. Since I don’t have room for a pegboard, I decided to take some unfinished napkin rings I had, paint them, and put people’s names on them. (Though only three of us live on The Compound, seven people eat here semi-regularly.) So we can eliminate paper napkins and be more efficient with laundering, too.

Using a fabric remnant I picked up at the craft store a while back (for less than a dollar!), my new sewing machine and I did: My First Project.


Newly painted napkin rings (no names yet) and eight napkins.
Do NOT look too closely at those seams*. I’m learning!

And by seams, I probably mean hems.

Hump Day Happy–Where Did the Day Go Edition

I don’t cook with grease for seasoning the way my mother and aunts did. It’s not healthy. I usually don’t cook my vegetables to death, either. But I do occasionally want some bacon grease for my cornbread skillet, and if there will be any old-school Southerners at my table, I like to add a bit of flavor to peas or beans with it, too. (Aside: After a hurricane, when you’re without power and have to cook all your food so it won’t go bad, if you fry your okra in bacon grease, even Mark G. Harris will eat it. Should any of you ever be in that situation when Mr. Harris is a guest in your home. Your hurricane-impacted home. Did I mention there was a hurricane?)

I have confessed on here before that I usually buy my own Christmas presents and tell Tom his part is to wrap them. I know that doesn’t sound exciting, so this year I decided to live dangerously. I told him to buy creative things to put the presents IN. Decorative boxes and such. Proving that men do, in fact, sometimes hear what we say, he remembered that I sometimes opined about the good old days when I, and other family members, used to keep little containers designed for filtering and saving bacon grease. Tom went to an antique store–this is NOT to say that my family members and I are antiques; I’m thirty-five–and found this adorable container to hold one of my presents, which I thought was quite clever.

If you would like to comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, I’ll find something in the happy book for you. Maybe it’ll be clever and adorable, as well. And it won’t clog your arteries.