Tag: compound

Now, seriously…

…have you ever seen such sweetness? In this photo taken today, do either of these two look like the kind of dog who would, yesterday when I left my office for a single minute, use my chair to get all four legs on my desk in a quest for a small order of french fries Tim had placed atop my printer as a surprise for me? Would either of these two angels in fur coats dance around until things on my desk went flying into hard-to-reach places? Can you envision either of them being so startled when I came in and yelled that she would kick off a full Coke so that liquid was running down the walls, everything on the floor was coated in a sticky mess, and drops would be flung as high as four bookshelves, saturating one book, splattering several others, along with mail and Mattel Top Model dolls and my day planner and my shoes and…

If you had to pick the guilty culprit, would it be Margot (on the left) or Guinness (on the right)? Tim, Tom, and Lynne are disqualified from answering.

in which Tim, EZ, and I have a mini adventure

This morning I was awakened by the baying of the hounds as UPS breached East Gate security to deliver a box. I lay in bed for a while, trying to remember anything I might have ordered. Maybe I accidentally won an ebay auction or bought books in an insomniatic stupor. With a sigh, I finally caved to my curiosity and retrieved the package.

It was my address all right, but it was to the name of a person who didn’t live here. I called information for Mr. MW’s number, but he isn’t listed. (Farewell, landlines, with your helpful operators.) Once I knew that Tim was up, too, I called and asked him if Mr. MW was one of his pseudonyms or aliases. He denied it. I tried to locate a number for the business in Brooklyn that shipped the package, but that didn’t pan out. So Tim leashed EZ and we walked down to the Abomination That Is The Ginormous Condo to see if anyone named MW lived there. No one was home in any of the units, but the name didn’t match their mail. (Yes, okay, we checked their mail, but we didn’t tamper with or steal anything, so leave us alone, USPS Police.)

I really didn’t want to take the box to UPS, because I know what it’s like to wait and wait for a package that never comes. So Tim, EZ, and I loaded up in the car and drove to a couple of Montrose businesses that might have more familiarity with the residents in the ‘hood than we do. One of those businesses is a florist. I spoke to the owner, J, outside his shop. He didn’t know MW, but since he thought it was sweet of us to go to such effort, he lured me inside to his cooler and presented me with an Augusta Louise rose, which is pictured here in a vase from The Brides’ wedding because I couldn’t bear to cut any of its elegant length. It smells DIVINE. If you ever need a Houston florist, just ask, and I’ll hook you up.

After J was introduced to Tim, we were on our way–this time to surrender the package to UPS. Sorry, Mr. MW; I hope it all works out for you. In the meantime, thanks to you and your mysterious address and especially to J for giving me such a lovely gift to share with my LJ friends and readers.

Craft Carnage

I can show you some photos from Craft Night now. We were all making cards to send with a surprise box of one-month-early birthday presents to Mark G. Harris. The presents have arrived at Mark Manor and are connected to an announcement Marika will make about a LJ challenge she issued. Only Mark can show you what his presents are, if he chooses, and Lindsey’ll have much better photos of the end results of our crafty labors. All I have is people. People in darkness. Darkness because MY FREAKING CAMERA is at Nikon, and the flash on my Kodak sucks.

By the way, I glued two fingers together because of a Super Glue malfunction.


Lindsey deftly wielded scissors.


Tom made a geek card–he and Mark speak the same language.


Tim knows that crafts require serious concentration and a cigarette.


Rhonda checks out everyone’s efforts.

And another thing…

Last week sometime, Tom walked into the office holding something in his hand and said, “I just found this in the living room. Any ideas?” It was about a one-inch piece of cord with copper wires sticking out of it. He said he’d been all through the house and couldn’t find any cords that were white or that had been chewed. We decided one of the dogs had picked it up outside–something brought onto The Compound by a squirrel, cat, rat, possum–take your pick.

A few mornings ago, I called Margot onto the bed so I could pet her. I felt something on her collar and pulled off another bit of cord with tiny copper wires sticking out of it. Hmmmm. I carefully (bad back!) lowered myself to the floor, looked under the bed, and saw the dogs’ purple rat from Lisa, along with:

and

Then I pulled out:

WTF? No dog of ours has EVER chewed on an electrical cord before. After some thought, I realized these were special circumstances. During the early days of my back pain, I probably used my heating pad. Then I somehow overlooked it after I put it between the bed and the bedside cabinet, and eventually it ended up under the bed. This area is the Margot Fortress: the place where no other dog goes. Where she hides toys so no one else can play with them. Where she writes emotional diary entries about her days as a Dog of the Streets. In her head, this:


(pictured here as a remnant)

was some brilliant new toy for her to enjoy however she saw fit.

I’m glad I have a habit of unplugging things when they aren’t in use. Tim came over with the vacuum cleaner (it lives with him) and vacuumed up all the plastic and copper wire, saving my back and Margot’s stomach. Then, because no good deed goes unpunished, he had to run home in a torrential downpour. Thanks, Tim.

Stuff

I suppose this could be one of the highlights of my week:

Hushpuppies are a reason, like grits, that I’m glad my parents had the good sense to be Alabama and Mississippi natives.

What was one of the low points of my week? I finally forced myself to take my beloved camera back to Houston Camera Co-op so they could send it to Nikon for repair. Lindsey picked me up Thursday (for a different and more fun errand), and I sucked up my courage and asked her if she’d take me to the camera store first. She did–and was GREAT moral support. Afterward, because she said I was A Very Brave Girl, she bought me a Starbucks Venti Mocha Frappuccino. Heaven! Then she, Rhonda, Tom, Tim, and I got some sandwiches from Jason’s Deli before working on a project, the details of which can’t be revealed for a few days.

I’m already missing the camera. I have a Photo Friday challenge to do, and I keep looking at my Kodak point-and-shoot and saying, “It’s just you and me, kid.” And it keeps replying, “Remember how you loved me when I was new? REMEMBER THAT FIRST PHOTO SHOOT and how everyone enjoyed the results?” I do remember it well. I’m sure Mr. Kodak and I will be fine for a few weeks, as long as I don’t have to shoot in low light.

I’ve been rewriting parts of A COVENTRY WEDDING based on editorial comments from Kensington. Nothing severe, just trying to smooth out some awkward transitions between chapters. Sometimes I feel that I was really off my game when I was writing this novel, but I have to give myself a break because of the past year’s turmoil. I’ve had so many good times with friends and family and had such fantastic visits from out-of-town friends as well as wonderful visits to New Orleans (twice!), that it’s almost impossible to believe that over the last year while writing, I took two contract assignments for major corporations, had home remodeling done, had a seriously ill/hospitalized writing partner/soul mate, lost a lifelong friend in January, helped close up my mother’s apartment and disburse all her belongings, helped take care of my mother through two hospitalizations and two hospice visits before her death–and did much of this with two fractured vertebrae and a slipped disk that required numerous visits to doctors and physical therapists.

The thing is, I don’t think my life is that different from most people’s. These are our realities–good, bad, stressful, wonderful, full of events that uplift us and devastate us. Yet we go on, hopefully with a bit of grace and dignity, and if we’re smart, with a willingness to let those who love us bear our burdens with us. My life is rich with the love of good people–and I’m grateful for you every day.

I just can’t take a decent photo of you for a while–hey! Don’t think I can’t hear the sarcasm in those “sympathetic” comments from some of you.

Puterbaugh Popcorn


Did somebody say “popcorn?”

Back in February when MGH and Lisa visited The Compound, we had movie nights with great snacks provided by David. I was supposed to post specific photos from one of those evenings, but other things happened and it slipped my mind. (Much like those before and after photos of my kitchen remodel–maybe I should do that on the one-year anniversary?)

Tonight I received a strongly worded e-mail about the popcorn pictures from a certain demanding someone whose initials are Mark G. Harris.

so here they are

The post with nudity!


Wagon O’ Dogs. Margot, Sparky, Rex, Guinness, and Minute

On the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, Lynne came over and worked herself, Tom, and Tim to exhaustion on The Compound grounds. In addition to photographing dogs in Lynne’s gardening wagon (which I like so much that I put it in A COVENTRY WEDDING), I baked a couple of cakes that Lynne needed to decorate for some graduates, visited my mother, and dashed into Michael’s for paper to cover Lynne’s cake boards. (In other words, I shirked anything that would make me get dirty, sweat, or strain my back.)

Whenever I’m in the Wilton cake decorating section, I can’t resist looking at cake pans. This time, I spotted one that I knew I had to have for Edward Ladybughands. This is what the cake looked like after I finished it.

cakes, friends, and food fights

Photo Friday, No. 97

Current Photo Friday theme: Difficult Shot


Caught in the act!
Technically difficult? No.
I’m not a photographer, so my submissions are more often about theme than skill.
It’s hard to catch a criminal just when he begins to plot.
This is Cake Thieving Rex at the exact moment he realizes two unfrosted cakes
and two unfrosted cupcakes are on the kitchen counter.


This is Cake Thieving Rex skulking away after I remind him that I’m hip to his ways.