Tag: compound

Belated Saturday post

I’m a bad LJer, hardly posting and barely able to comment on anyone’s blogs or journals, though I am reading you (other than anyone’s fiction, because I usually can’t/won’t/don’t read other people’s unpublished fiction, but especially not when I’m writing). If you think I’m being a slacker online, you should see my unanswered e-mail, my pile of unpaid bills, and my house.

Today they started pulling up the various layers of flooring that have gone down in the kitchen over the past 80 years. And then they stopped, because way down underneath it all are materials that could be asbestos. So now they’ll do the floor a different way. I don’t care as long as the workmanship is good and it looks good. But because they’ve gotten down to some old wood, I think the house has a funky smell. No one else seems to smell it, but I do. I’ll be very glad when this part is done.

They also pulled off all my cabinet doors and–sorry, Lindsey–my cabinets do NOT look like the Container Store Fairy came in and organized them.

You know, there was a time that I was a really good housekeeper.

And then I wasn’t.

I’m starting to wonder what I AM good at.

To divert us all from my flaws…

Hey! Look!

Miserable dogs

I have miserable dogs. They don’t understand why they (1) have to be in their crates or (2) have to be confined to one side of the house or (3) have to be walked on leashes with no freedom to roam The Compound grounds. They can see through the windows that intruders are on the property with power tools and other amazing and interesting things (like hands to pet them). And they couldn’t run screaming into the living room to repel the UPS man, a cruel reality for dogs who live to hate anyone delivering mail or packages to The Compound.

If they only knew the worst of it–that if they went into Tim’s apartment right now, there would be NO STAIRS to climb and so they wouldn’t be able to enjoy such blissful things as Rex’s crate or the corner where the litter box used to be (dogs are always hopeful that something forbidden and good could return as mysteriously as it vanished).

I, on the other hand, couldn’t be more thrilled with trying to work while men–all versions of the affable DeWitt from SOMEONE LIKE YOU–yell at each other over the sound of the aforementioned power tools. I also get to watch as every leaf that’s fallen in the yard enters my house through open doors. After the new back door lock was installed, the guy realized there were no keys in the package. I had to call Tom, who went and bought a new lock and brought it home. Then there was the thrilling moment after they ripped the carpet from Tim’s stairs and he came over to say something that sounded like “blah blah blah termites blah blah blah.” After he administered CPR, I learned that there was termite damage to the stairs from the time before we bought the property (when the seller had to have the apartment tented and termite-treated). It’s just old damage with no sign at all of any living termites.

I’m better now. The dogs: not so much.

State of The Compound

Woohoo, work has begun on updates to The Compound. It’s not too exciting today, just redoing my front door so that Lindsey, Rhonda, and Lynne can actually get out of it when they’re visiting. Why they would WANT to leave is beyond me–I never would if I didn’t have to.

I was asked if I didn’t want a beautiful new custom-made front door, but that’s not currently in the budget, much to the dismay of Joe.My.Contractor., not to be confused with Joe.My.God. Although: I did have to stop for a few seconds to worship my new sink when the granite guy pulled it out of the box before he measured. I got a little misty-eyed as I thought, Boy, Tom’s REALLY going to enjoy doing dishes in that!

Heh.

I guess I’d better start taking “before” photos, huh?

Be very, very quiet…

Just wanted to reassure those of you who are checking on me that I’m fine. Just busy. In addition to working on the novel, I’m doing some contract work for one of my most favorite clients, who I haven’t worked with in six years, so I’m delighted.

Tom and I are simultaneously finalizing plans for the renovations at The Compound that we’ve been preparing for since sometime in June. That’s all going to be exciting, if disruptive. And this is the week Nature decided it was time for me to have my first four-day migraine headache in several months. Thank goodness Tim’s out of the hospital, not only for his own sanity, but because of those moments when he drops his hands on my shoulders to work out a few knots. He’s very good at that.

And thank goodness for my other old friend, Vicodin.

I like this photo I took the other day of the way the sun cast a shadow of my glasses across my manuscript.

I’d show you the larger version, but it wouldn’t be nice to make you read a page of something that won’t be available for at least a year, right?

Scene of the crime

With that title, you’d think I’d have a photo, but I don’t. I haven’t even posted a Photo Friday photo yet, which I always do in the wee hours of Friday morning, as soon as I get the theme just after midnight. This week’s theme is “Strength,” and I got nothing. Maybe later…

The scene of the crime my title refers to is my living room. I had to run some errands today, and when I finished getting ready and started to leave the house, I heard a crunching noise from the area of the sofa. Last night when we watched several more episodes of The Young and the Restless (we were a week and a half behind because of Tim’s incarceration hospitalization), I set the bowl of leftover Halloween candy on the coffee table for easy reach. There wasn’t much left. Some Smarties, two or three Tootsie Roll Pops, some Sugar Mamas, and a few Pixie Sticks (don’t judge me–the best stuff had been eaten already).

I’d say sometime in the next few hours a certain dog whose initials are Guinness will probably need Kaopectate. The living room floor was littered with chewed up candy wrappers and the only things left in the bowl were a few Pixie Sticks.

(Edit: As Tim noted, I failed to listen to The Compound Dogs’ advice post-Halloween.)

Because every time I do one post…

…I immediately need to do another. It’s LiveJournal crack.

Earlier, I heard dogs howling in various pitches and thought, Oh, no, you’re not luring me out by barking at the mail carrier when we all know I’m getting nothing, NOTHING, but political flyers and solicitations for one organization or another.

I was wrong. Fedex dropped by.

Though I’m usually going on and on about only one of them here, my life is blessed with two Timothys. Way back when, Timmy provided his LJ friends a look at some of his art, and I see that I commented that I particularly liked “Lightning.”

Even though my camera is screwed up (no doubt it overheard tales of my lust for a digital SLR and is punishing me), I was able to capture evidence that “Lightning” has been renamed “Roots” and is a new addition to The Compound art gallery.

Timmy, I love you. Of course, you understand why my rush of gratitude was accompanied by hysterical laughter. You are utterly adorable and funny and wonderful. I know exactly where I’ll be hanging the painting so that I can enjoy it every day and think of your generosity (and the conversations that have made me laugh so hard). Thank you so much.

The Tim Update

Thanks, everyone, for the e-mails, phone calls, and questions and concern about Tim. I don’t think he had any pain meds on Wednesday, unless early in the morning. He says he’s not in pain, just uncomfortable because the chest tube is still in. I guess they got delayed doing a CT scan that had been planned all day. Once they do that, if everything looks okay, they’ll remove the tube, then probably take some X-rays to make sure his lung stays okay. If all looks well, he should be able to come home. So we’re hoping for Thursday (in time for Survivor!).

If they don’t let him come home, they’ll have to answer to Rex.

I took him some beef stew and cornbread tonight which I’m guessing was superior to his hospital food. He was bored out of his mind, so I came home and got him some books, a journal, a little electronic Yahtzee game (Jim gave it to me on one of his trips here because I got all obsessed with it), and a deck of cards. It would be better if he could get up and walk around, but as long as the tube’s in, he can’t. They can do the CT scan anytime during the night, so I figure it’ll happen just as he finally falls asleep.

Various

Lynne, look! From Thailand:

There are also photos of BARBIES. Oh, yeah, and Bangkok. To see Lindsey’s photos so far, the set is right here.

Tim: Still in hospital.
Rexford: Pining for Tim.
Sugar: Angelic.
Margot: Equally angelic.
Guinness: Hungry.
Tom: Taking That Old Woman to get her flu shot.
Me: Cooking homemade beef stew and cornbread, homemade beef and veggie soup, and homemade chicken noodle soup BECAUSE I WANT TIM TO COME HOME.

But it’s got all this red juice when I push on it…

I don’t know why I’m quoting Mommie Dearest for the title of this post. I actually had one of those heartwarming friends kind of posts planned for Monday, but I’ll save it. Instead, I have to tell you what Timothy J. Lambert is willing to do to make you all aware that this is National Respiratory Care Week.

Let’s begin with a little photo.


I can haz morphine?

read on, stout souls

Another Saturday night

I keep having those little tremors of excitement inside, the kind you have when something really, really good is about to happen. I’m sure it wasn’t because of this:

even though that IS my first attempt to make an alfredo sauce to put with chicken and pasta. Tim and Tom would have to say whether it was a success. Though I must tell you that the asparagus was totally rocking, cooked to exactly the crispness that I like. (And everyone at The Compound will have asparagus pee tonight, always an occasion. We don’t get out much, you know.)

Actually, it’s that “we don’t get out much” thing that helps fuel my excitement. I’m not big on traveling. Oh, occasionally I enjoy getting away, but since I don’t like to fly, and I never want to fly over water, the idea of going to Europe or anywhere else off this continent is in no way appealing to me. For that reason, when someone I care about does take that kind of trip and is excited about it, I don’t feel anything but bliss for them. No wistfulness, no envy, no jealousy–nothing but happiness for their happiness.

All day long, I’ve been thinking of Lindsey and Rhonda. Lindsey left this morning for Bangkok via Tokyo. Rhonda left tonight for Bangkok via Paris. While they wished they could be traveling together, in a way, I think it’s also exciting that they’re having separate adventures that will end up with both of them in the same place, full of experiences to tell each other. Plus they’ll be having their reunion on what is almost their first wedding anniversary. What a romantic and exciting way to celebrate another year in their life together.

Not only do I get to be happy for them, but their trip means Tim gets to take care of Sugar at The Compound while they are gone.


Poor Sugar. Isn’t it a terrible thing to be left in Tim’s care?

There’ll be a period of adjustment for Margot and Guinness, but it’s Rex who’s acting a little different. He likes Sugar. They even play together when she feels more at home. But Rex has suddenly turned into this big baby who wants to be close to Tim all the time. Of course, he’s always devoted to Tim, but this is more along the lines of, “I’m still your number one dog, right, right, RIGHT? Why are you holding that other dog? Look at how CUTE I am. Am I not the most endearing dog ever?” Guinness must sense that Rex is needy, because she even let him lie across her paws today and didn’t try to take his bone away when he was doing his, “Look at me! I’ve got a bone! Am I not the cutest dog ever with this bone?”

He kind of is…