Tag: compound

Of sneakers and birthdays

Every human at The Compound has been in need of new sneakers (which is what I call tennis shoes and some of you call trainers) for a while. As longtime readers know, Timothy and I don’t like to leave The Compound, much less go OUTSIDE THE LOOP. On Saturday, Tom bravely did reconnaissance for us at one of the outlet malls, where The Brides and Lynne had told us we could find an amazing NIKE store and a CONVERSE store, among other retailers.

Tom’s mission was a success (he’s actually a New Balance guy, but whatever), so on Monday, Timothy and I ventured not only outside the Loop, but beyond the Beltway, and met with equal success. Here’s what I got, among other things:

I never don’t get all-leather tennis shoes, but these are comfortable, so I was willing to give them a chance.

By the time we left, Tim also had several shopping bags. I feel we did our part for April’s retail economy. Because no good deed goes unpunished, we were later pummeled by rain walking between the gym and the car. Cold rain blowing sideways. I thought we were finished with rain by late Monday night, but apparently I was wrong, as a few blocks away from The Compound, sometime in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, an ENORMOUS tree came down and blocked one of the ‘hood’s busiest streets. Flashback to Hurricane Ike. EEK.

Tuesday was the birthday of my late friend Steve R. As I do every year, I made a chocolate cake decorated with Pooh characters. Lindsey and Rhonda came over to help us eat it, while Sugar and The Compound hounds guarded us from leaves on the front porch (a dog has to watch those things; they’re cunning).

It makes me happy each year to celebrate Steve’s life with friends. Even if they never met him, his zest for living and his love of chocolate are great parts of April 28. Also, where else can you hear Rhonda say, “I’m licking Pooh butt?”

Friday’s Five Fun Dog Moments

1. Caught Dexter and Rex watching Desperate Housewives.
2. Dexter dragged plastic plates out of the recycle bag and played with them all over the house.
3. Rex hasn’t moved for the last four hours. (Dexter is away for a potential-home visit; Tim is also away.)
4. Margot didn’t snarl at any other dogs today. Also: no emo poetry.
5. Guinness ate two dill pickle slices meant for Rex. Hoping Rex doesn’t contact his attorney.

Hump Day Happy

 

 

Sorry to be so late, but today has been a little hectic at The Compound. I did buy myself an hour or so of blissful calm by handing out raw marrow bones to the hounds (as pictured above). This made them very, very happy. I’d give each of you a raw marrow bone, too, if I could. Since I can’t, if you’ll comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, I’ll just find something in this book for you. Bon appetit!

Remains of the day

Friday was one of those days when I did so many varied things that I feel like I never caught my breath. I even had a post planned, but not only didn’t I have time to write it, I haven’t read all my e-mail today, I’m not sure I’ve ever pulled up Facebook or Twitter, and I haven’t checked out most of my daily online reads.

I really like Dexter, Tim’s foster dog of this week (and maybe longer; who knows). He’s Tyson’s brother, and half the time I call him Tyson. I also call him Baxter, Butcher, and any other word that pops into my mind. In all the dogs’ best safety interests, Tim’s been keeping him somewhat sequestered. I was working on my craft project outside, and the day was gorgeous, so I didn’t feel like sticking the dogs indoors. I decided it was a now-or-never kind of thing, and let Dexter and Rex be free outside together, now that they’ve had a few days to get used to sharing space. They had a blast, thank goodness, but I was ready should they have needed some intervention. Since it went so well, I let Margot and Guinness join them outside. Margot gave him her standoffish treatment, and Guinness had to bark at him occasionally. Neither dog fazed him. He has too many other things to explore to worry about a couple of cranky females. Like–oh joy! He and I stumbled onto a murder scene. The victim was a bird, and we must have almost caught the killer just after the act. There were feathers everywhere. My money’s on Sniper Cat, the one who sits on Tim’s roof.

All the dogs kept me company while I worked outside. Then later, inside, Dexter and Rex traded a bone back and forth without getting mad at each other. Dexter and I played tug-of-war with a rope toy. He sits when asked, but is still learning to lie down and come when called. Once Tom and Tim were home for the evening and we were ready to eat dinner, Tim brought both Rex and Dexter over, which was a first. I’m sure he was happy; he hates being left alone, as did Tyson. I believe Tim said they were neglected as puppies, so that makes sense. Hopefully he’ll find his ideal forever home, just the way Tyson and EZ did.

This weekend is going to be hectic, with all of us having obligations pulling us in different directions, but I’m hoping to find time to do that post–with photos of the now-completed Mystery Project. I hope everyone else has a fun and relaxing weekend planned and/or gets over their various illnesses.

This nearly was mine

While mulling over ideas and possibilities and even some outlines of what I want to write next, I feel increased pressure to do something creative for my own well-being. I mentioned a project I’m working on, but I’m not ready to post photos of it yet (though I’m closer after getting some advice from Lindsey and Lynne last night).

I took my camera with me on a walk on Tuesday just in case I saw anything worth shooting. I took a lot of photos, finally realizing that I seemed more interested in textures than anything else. It’s been almost two years since I did any of my small paintings that I sell to give the proceeds to AIDS assistance organizations, and I’m hoping Tuesday’s photos will inspire more paintings.

I threw the photos into a Flickr set and kept it public, though I imagine the photos won’t be of much interest to anyone unless you, too, can be inspired by photos of not much more than texture or color.

The photo on the left is of part of a two-story duplex in the neighborhood. It was one of two places that Tom suggested I see after he did initial legwork when we were in the market for a house fourteen years ago. I never went inside it, because The Compound bungalow was my one-and-only. As soon as I stepped inside the front door, I knew it was meant to be mine. Still, even though I never looked at the duplex, my feelings for it remind me of certain flirtations from my long-ago past: enduring affection for what might have been mine.

ONLY in the city…

You’ve read from Tim and me many times on LJ about this occurrence. But here it is: photographic evidence that ANYONE will park in front of The Compound.

There were a lot of lawn and garden people working in the ‘hood today. I guess the truck follows their businesses. And what the hell–even in front of my house, I admire the entrepreneurial spirit of A Moveable Feast.*

*Out of deference to Lindsey, I’m giving this rig a nice Hemingway name instead of what people usually call it.

Some things may be better left in the past

Forever I’ve been intending to do a post about Facebook and the surreal nature of connecting with people from the past. This is not that post. This is a post which proves that you really can find anything on the Internet.

For some reason, I was remembering a 45-record giveaway from Lays Potato Chips. Or some potato chip company; maybe it wasn’t Frito-Lay. HOWEVER, I remember Debby and I putting the 45 on the record player back when we were sweet young things, then she, our mother, and I stared at each other open-mouthed. One of us finally said, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? Then we laughed until we cried, and it became, forever after, our standard of crazy ass music.

What the hell that was was the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, and damn if he doesn’t have a Wikipedia entry, a web site, a MySpace account, and YouTube clips. Because I adore all of you who read here, I won’t link you to any of that, even though David Bowie HIMSELF says he took the name for Ziggy Stardust from the obscure Legendary Stardust Cowboy. The Ledge, as he’s called, reminds me that just as is true of writers, there’s always somebody who’ll like what you do. You just have to find your audience.

Today, we are bombing The Compound residences for fleas. Tim dropped the hounds at the “spa” for a day of grooming on his way to cater to the whims of Boss Lady Hanley. I set up a temporary office in the garage while Tom set off the flea bombs. Then he picked up some breakfast for me on his way to work. Benefit of being in the garage: I’m enjoying the lulling sound of the dryer while I wash all the dog bedding. I have my coffee, my green tea, my computer, and a Julie Smith mystery. Later, I may walk to Starbucks because the air is nice and cool.

Not a bad life, I think. I hope the Ledge is having a good day, too.

Is that slug I smell?

I’d love to fill you in on the frenetic and fascinating things going on in my life, but I just realized that I FORGOT to have a frenetic and fascinating life. Damn.

I do have a creative project in the works; photos to come.

This is assuming I can actually muster up the energy to do the project. I sit at my desk or lie in bed at night for hours, wide awake, trying to figure out what I want to write and if I even have a writing career anymore. Then during the day, I could literally sleep for twelve hours without moving if life would allow it.

Life doesn’t allow it, however, so when all things align exactly right, I’m still going to the gym, the post office, the grocery store, and the bank. Between napping, reading (at last count, I’d read sixty-five books over the last ten months), and avoiding housework, I have long conversations with the dogs. I don’t know if those conversations are as boring as this post, but the dogs seem okay as long as I don’t sing.

Funny, they never complain when Tim sings.

Hump Day Happy

On Monday, Lynne and her friend Judy decorated cakes for a wedding at Houston’s restored, historic Rice Hotel. They needed a place to hang out for a few hours and get ready before returning to the wedding, and chose The Compound. It was a gorgeous day, so we ended up spending the afternoon on the front porch–joined by Tim–talking and waving cuttings from a citronella plant to keep the mosquitoes at bay.

We noticed a lot of butterflies visiting The Compound grounds. Because the beginning of spring is mere days away, it seems fitting that butterflies be the ones to find, for anyone who comments with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, something from this book to be happy about.

Sorry about the butterflies, Jandy. But they’re better than mosquitoes, right?