A Love Affair

I'm having a love affair.  A serious LOVE affair.  I just can't get enough of him...I even took him to work today, so that I could use and abuse him, between customers of course!  Man can he SUCK like no other!  Wow, that sounds a little dirty...BUT he is DIRTY, very, very DIRTY!  He's an ANIMAL.  His name is Dyson and I heart him very, very much.  

Owls

LOVE HOO YOU ARE !  This just makes me smile and then some.

Progress?!

Oh SNAP!  Painting the three rooms was a little unrealistic, actually a lot unrealistic.  Hence story of my life.  However, I did get one done by the hair of my chinny chin chin.  I think I was literally hanging curtains as HIMSELF was driving into The Ville.   It has literally taken six months to do one room.  Good Grief.  Really!  When we moved into this house, we lost about a 1,000 square feet and lots and lots of storage.  So I am trying to claim this space and make it work for us and  that requires a lot of organization, time, money, and being  realistic.  Unfortunately, I lack in all of those departments.  The Living Room still isn't done.  I am waiting on a chandelier, need two lamps for the sofa table, need an electrician to put floor plugs in and hang the chandelier, a beautiful orchid or something something to go on the sofa table, bamboo blinds for all the windows, a cushion made for the window seat,would love to paint the bead board ceiling blue and  a big ol' money tree in the backyard.  Progress?! Oh SNAP!  

Dating myself

I am either really wrong and dating myself or I am really right, and still dating myself, BUT R.E.M.'s Murmur has to be one of the best albums of all times.  Also, just an f.y.i. for all my three readers, I think I have a blister on the bottom of foot from YOGA(all two days in a row)...I'm thinking that is kind of sad and wrong and dating myself or great, yoga's kicking your generous ass and you're still DATING yourself.  What a conundrum this aging process is.  Something to think about on the mat tomorrow.  NAMASTE and then some, Nan

Himself

SHITFIRE...guess who shot an elk yesterday and is coming home EARLY.  Yes, HIMSELF!  Where am I in the painting department? Maybe, two thirds of A room done, and that is being generous...Does HIMSELF care?  What he will care about is the fact that once again, I started a project, without his knowing, and once again, it will not be completed.  Yes, I will point out that he came home early, and with that HIMSELF will roll his eyes and shake his head,  and growl.  I then will throw my arms around HIMSELF and tell him how much I missed him and that I am glad he is home.  Why not tell HIMSELF what my intentions are while he is gone... Well, that is easy!  I don't want to hear it. I don't want to see it(eyes roll).  I am not asking for permission.  I am doing it.  His idea of decorating is where to hang his Elk mount.  Now you understand.  I will complete the living room, no problem...I will start the hallway because that is where I really wanted to paint, and that might not get done.  I will also paint the dining room, then the kitchen, then Reid's room.

No, we don't have to hire a painter, but HIMSELF might have to pick up a paint brush, because now I am on a roll.

Shooting and then some

After the harsh realization that Nate the Great, a.k.a Nate Berkus is never coming to my house.   Nor is Peter Walsh (professional organizer) for that matter.  Even my cleaning lady isn't coming...She "quit me" earlier this summer.  So I have had to take matters into my own hands.  I am thinking about becoming a minimalist .  I am seriously sick of all the crap.  My husband left this past Thursday at 6:00 a.m to go walk his gun in search of the elusive elk for a week.  By 7:45 am the paint swatches came out and were taped to the wall as I sipped my morning java.  By 8:05 am, I called Sampson's and Ashley answered.  Ahhh, Ashley.  He is every married woman's little fantasy.  Muscles, Dirty blond hair, and he knows his paint.  "Whatever you say Ashley...that sounds great.  See you in a few."  By 8:38, paint loaded by Ashley, my heart beating a little faster,and my cheeks a little redder, I was home.  Floral White.  Here we go.  Good-bye Weston Flax.  It has been great knowing you.  You have warmed my rooms up in a couple of houses, but I am just ready for a new clean look.  A "look" that has to be done in one week, so that my husband doesn't shoot me... I am shooting for three rooms.  Stay tuned, Nan

P.S.  Picture of lollipop from Valentine's Day that was up on a shelf...almost permanently attached to my charming little R.WOOD saucer. This was found mid summer.  No wonder my cleaning lady "Quit" me.

Damn and then some

Do you ever look at your girlfriends and think, "You shouldn't be wearing that" and silently cringe for them. Well, I do and if you don't then pat yourself on the back and stop reading this blog now, because we don't have much in common, you fabulous person you! Now back to my point. Anyway, you know that your friend has been working out hard, watching her food and wine intake and has lost some poundage, but she prematurely puts on a pair of jeans that she shouldn't be wearing yet. Well, I have been wearing the same pair of jeans for the past month?! The reason being my ass won't fit in any others. I refuse to buy a new pair to accommodate my--- because that is settling and lazy. The next time it could be elastic. Now I will buy a new pair when my --- is smaller and the cycle of maintaining starts all over again. Now there is that friend, who is skinny and works out all the time, but wears things that are too tight, which makes her look fat. That is just sad and wrong.  Then there is that friend who does not eat period.  I try to avoid those types of friends all together.  They are usually a head case, and life is too short for all that mess.  Well, today I am "that friend" who is being premature.  I just put on a pair of jeans that are too tight! Please Mirror say it isn't so. I'm tired of wearing the same jeans. I have been doing yoga , walking, and even a little running. If I just hadn't drank that bottle of vino last night. Damn.

When I got back from Scotland, my husband had bought a new scale. Harsh reality. How many fish and chips did you eat? I liked the old scale. You could bounce on it a couple of times and make it fluctuate five to seven pounds in your favor. Damn fish and chips(Scotland). Damn lobster with drawn butter (Maine). Damn good though. Damn you digital scale(Husband). While I am on a roll, Damn Scott Schuman( thesatorialist.blogspot.com) for making me even care about all the above in the first place. And Damn for good measure, and yes, I am going to go change. Damn!

Nan