The Box Of Chocolates Post

01 Dec 2011 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Guest Post, I Will Cut You, Pets Tags: ,

I got an email from Dammit Todd about my latest post. It needs to be shared.

Dear Jimmie –

1) I’m never hunting squirrels in your home town, especially if they really can be considered to be a big animal, such as a deer.

2) Your makeover pic is definitely being termed “Eye of the Tigger” in my book…

My makeover, courtesy of Tigger

Love, Dammit Todd

When Woney and I were in the Mexico port on our cruise, we got on this bus tour thing. Time has passed and I’m slightly fuzzy on the details now that I’ve slept. Anyway, the tour guide spoke fantastic English although slightly accented, and this is the thing he said that I remember most, mostly because he was calm and dead serious.

“Jyoo can go to the open air flea market and buy lots of silber, leather, wool. Lots of stuff. Jyoo can get handbags, belts, hats, whips. <shrug> Jyoo on bacation.”

An open letter to Tony, Woney’s trainer.

Dear Tony, oh ye of the chiclet teeth, giant arms, positive attitude and Navy Uniform which you refused to wear for me no matter how much I really, really wanted you to or how much I wheezed when I ran to show you that I was serious about the workout –

I heard that you made Woney flip over a bunch of tractor tires as part of her training for her Sheryl Crow arms. I hate to tell you, Tony, but you live in CALIFORNIA. Tractors just don’t really seem indigenous to CALIFORNIA and I’ll bet people snickered behind your back.

However, they do seem to be indigenous to TENNESSEE, where I live. I do believe that here in Nashville we even lay claim to a country music singer who writes songs about how tractors are sexy (Yes, it is a great source of embarrassment for many TENNESSEE natives, one of which is me. Was that Kenny Chesney? Cause if so, he should be strung up by his toenails and tortured mercilessly. Anway . . . .) Tractors and their tires belong here and honestly, I could use some Sheryl Crow arms myself.

I propose an idea. Tony, you come here (and bring Woney) with your tractor tires (and your uniform), and we can flip tractor tires all day long and no one will think it is weird at all. Maybe you can meet Kenny Chesney. And later we can check you for ticks. Deal? Deal.

Smooches,

Jimmie

A Guest Post, by Murphy

People. Tell The Smushy One that the garage is not outside! Frick.

It appears that Christmas is upon us. One of my neighbors put up the whole Clark Griswold-themed light show in their yard Halloween weekend and since then has been blazing the trail nightly in their quest for the Christmas Spirit.

I put my tree up this past weekend and wondered what the cats would do to it. The first year the kitties were with me, I had the tree up but Seamus hid under the bed all the time and Murphy was too busy digging in my cabinets and in the bathroom to notice it. Last year the tree didn’t make it off of the garage shelf.  This year I fully expected Murphy to tear it to shreds or at the very least, pee on it.

Instead, every day when I come home I see this:

Seamus is in love with that tree. He makes a running leap, slides onto the tree skirt and skids across it like he’s sliding into home base. Then he’ll lump himself up underneath the tree skirt and “hide”, except his butt is so big it sticks out. I find new ornaments on the floor every day and I’ve noticed that more and more of my lights on my pre-lit tree are going out. I’m going to have a non-lit tree before it’s over with.

Murphy with the tree:

Meh. It'll do.

Seamus with the tree:

You touch this and I will kill you.

That’s it. Chocolate gone. The end. 

(In case you now need a chocolate fix, all those images came from Godiva.  Just remember me when you go buy some.)

A Guest Post, By Murphy

22 Nov 2011 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Guest Post, Pets Tags: ,

Okay, people, we need to have a word about the Smushy One.  I need for you to talk to her for me.  She’s gettin’ all weird about me going outside.  I’m a grown cat.  I need to roam free.  I need my space.  There are also some ladies that require attention and quite frankly, they get irritable when I don’t make our dates.  It’s enough to drive a cat to drink.   

That guy who lived here, the one with the Quivery Dog, used to let me out all the time, and I gotta tell ya, I got a taste for it.  I spend an awful lot of time telling the Smushy One about it, too, like for hours.  She ignores me, though, and won’t open the door no matter how much I claw at it or how loud I get.  Sometimes when she opens the door, I’ll make a mad rush and get free but the Smushy One gets real grimace-y when that happens.  Usually I puke up some grass on her carpet afterwards, to show her who the boss is around here.  She yells a lot when that happens. Man, those are good days. 

Also, while we are on the subject, can you tell her that I really need the whole bed to myself?  I mean, I’m ten pounds.  I need my space.  I’m particularly interested in the pillows right now but she insists on hogging the one that I want, all the time.  Seeing as how I’m not sure which one I want every night, though, she should just give them all to me.  Tell her that, okay? Lately I’ve taken to spreading out over both of them, right in the middle and I think she’s finally getting a clue.   

And while you are talking to her, make her leave my face alone.  I like the dirt.  It gives me a rakish air that drives the dames wild.  She keeps cleaning it off and I tell her, “I’m a grown cat.  I need my space.  Leave it alone.” But she doesn’t listen.  It’s exhausting.

Don’t make her too upset, though.  I heard rumors of a tree being put up with lots of clanky glass balls on it.  I want that tree!  I’ve got a hankering to climb one and since she won’t let me outside . . .  

Mrow.

Murph

Well, That Was Awkward

31 Aug 2011 6 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Pets, This Will Probably Get Me In Trouble Tags:

My Potential Roomate has now become Roomate, at least for the month of September.  I thought you’d like to know.  Mini has adjusted well to living with me and my felines.  She has doggie toys in every room of the house and feels secure in coming to my room for a middle of the night snuggle.  The felines have adjusted well to two added beings.  Murphy ignores that quivery dog while he stretches out like a mini sultan on my bed and Seamus still just looks at her with disinterested interest.  Both kitties hit Roomate up for food when he comes home, all meowing and fluttering their eyelashes.  We are going to have the fattest animals on the planet what with their begging and Mini snatching every single crumb that falls onto the floor.  Last night she darted under my feet to catch a hunk of shallot in midair.  Only after she chomped on it one good time did she realize that shallots are kind of gross for dogs and abandon it in a slobbery mess for me to discard.

Me, I like Roomate because now I can hand out “Boy Jobs” and keep the “Girl Jobs”.  He takes out the trash and listens to my hot water heater when it makes funky noises.  I dictate how the pantry is to be organized, lie around on the couch reading books, and hang my undies in the laundry room.  In short, we get along fabulously. 

Last week, Roomate asked me if I could help with a favor.  He prefaced it by saying it was an odd request which of course made me immediately say yes.  I’m a big fan of saying yes before I even know what I’m agreeing to which has more often than not gotten me into trouble.  But Roomate so faithfully takes out the trash without being asked so I trust him.  Trust is always based on faithful garbage carrying.

“Will you measure me for a mountain bike?” he asks.  “Sure”, I say, figuring I’ll just whip out a yardstick when I get home, mark his height with a pencil against the wall, and be done with it.  Not odd at all. 

Then he sends a link to a video on how to properly measure one for a mountain bike.  Y’all, this is a process, a lengthy one.  Still, it’s fine.  I was rocking along looking at pictures and diagrams of how to measure when I run across this one. 

Oh my.  It appears that I have found the odd.   

Before you get your panties all in a twist, thinking that I’m going to be all up in a stranger’s business with a measuring tape, you should know that Roomate is my cousin.  However, now that I have typed that in black and white, I’m not sure if that makes the measuring better or worse. 

Anyway, last Wednesday night Roomate trotted around the house in his bike shorts (really? who invented those?) and I measured (nearly) every measurable part of his body.  I figure he’s already seen my underwear that lives in the laundry room and we share a washer and dryer so it can’t get any worse than that. It is obvious that he trusts me to bandy about a measuring stick while he holds a level in his nether parts.  We spent a lot of time with that measuring tape and the level, making notes in a notebook and figuring numbers.  Turns out one of his arms is longer than the other and that I am quite the expert with a measuring tape.   It also turns out that you can only awkwardly giggle for so long before you just get tired of being awkward and stop with the giggling already and just get the job done.   

His mountain bike arrived yesterday.  We’ll see how well I did.

For those of you who want to ask if I am for hire with the measuring, the answer is no. As if . . . I reserve that sort of thing for men who are related to me and who take out the trash.  A girl has to have standards. 

A Birthday Letter to Phranke From Seamus

27 Aug 2011 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Guest Post, Pets

Hai. Person.

Next time you come over, you can pick me up.   

Bring food.  Also peas.

The end.

The Story Of Mini: A Guest Post

12 Aug 2011 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Guest Post, Pets Tags: ,

I really have so many things to write about and for various reasons they won’t seem to just come along already.  Probably it is laziness and lack of discipline.   

What will come easily is the story of Mini.  That dog is hilarious.  Potential Roomate is on a trip and I promised to take care of Mini like he would in his absence.  That means coming home at lunchtime in order to let her outside as her bladder is about the size of a walnut.  (Turns out walnuts can hold a decent amount of liquid as evidenced by the stain on my carpet left the day I didn’t make it home in time.  Yay.)  It also means snuggling with her at night and sharing my cherries with her.  It means introducing her to the neighbors and letting her burrow under my blankets.  She is a burrowing dog, my gosh. 

After we established some ground rules for staying at Jimmie’s house, I had a chat with Mini and told her about this here blog.  She said that since Murphy and Seamus got to write guest posts, she wanted to write one too.  I let her.  Turns out we share everything in this house.  Food, (both dog and cat), my bed (with both the dog and cats), the bathroom affection in the middle of the night (both dog and cats) and my blog.    Following is Mini’s essay. 

 

Things that Excite Me! by Mini

Girl! She excites me! When she comes home! 

(Editor’s Note:  Mini spends a lot of time being excited when I arrive.  Really, a lot.  She expresses this excitement by running up and down the stairs and occasionally barking at me as she tries to climb my leg.  Then she peals out for the front door and back to me, back to the door, back to me, at least 10 times before I can walk the five steps to the door and get it open to let her outside.)

Oh, licking!  I love that!  I like licking Girl when she talks, right in the mouth!

(Editor’s Note:  Combine the dog kisses right in the mouth with the fur Murphy leaves on my lips when I talk and I know you want to make out with me, right?)

The Hose!  I love the Hose!  I want to destroy it!  I don’t know why!

(Editor’s Note:  Mini also spends a lot of time being excited about the hose and the water that comes out of it as I water my scraggly tomato plant which has given me exactly four oddly shaped tomatoes.  She snaps at the water, getting it up her nose and in her ears which she later hurks up and scares the snot out of me.  She sprints from the spigot to the plant over and over again until I finally turn off the water.  At this point she takes the end of the hose in her mouth and drags it around the yard.  This dog weighs maybe seven pounds.  She cannot jump into my bed because at regulation-size, it is too tall for her.  She does the scrabble, scrabble, scrabble to get enough traction to jump onto the couch.  She struggles with the tiniest of tasks, yet she has defeated the hose.  Oh, Victory, thy taste is sweet.  And wet.)

My squeaky toys!  When Girl comes home! I run up and down the stairs squeaking my toys! 

(Editor’s Note:  Pic below.  That is all.)

Cats! I want them!  All mine!

(Editor’s Note:  Murphy and Mini have come to a truce.  They no longer hiss and lunge and squeal and quiver.  They do occasionally sniff the general area where the other has been and Mini is still a great fan of licking the carpet infused with his fur.  They both have established a spot on my bed; however, those spots couldn’t be any further away from each other.  Seamus regards her with . . . I don’t even want to say indifference because he likes to look at her.  But he doesn’t seem to show any interest in his looking at her.  It’s weird.  Yet I can find him on the floor next to the bed every night just looking at her. Currently, as I edit this, I have all three animals on the bed with me.  Mini is snoring stuffed up under a blanket.  Murphy is wound up on a pillow on my stomach.  And Seamus is lying next to me just being next to Murphy.  He is vigilantly eyeballing me in case I decide to pet him in which case he will bolt under the bed.  But he wants to be next to Murphy so he endures me.)

Car! I want to ride in it!

(Editor’s Note:  I got nothing here.)

 Aack!

  

Surprisingly, Seamus also had more to say.  He is usually the quiet one so naturally I wanted to let him have a go at this again.

Guest Post by Seamus.

Hai. 

I might like dogs.  They have food and I can eat it. 

 The end. 

 

In other completely unrelated miscellaneous odd news, Sammie (Nanny School?  Remember Sammie?) has gotten some sort of ladybug infestation in her dorm room.  This dorm houses about 8 or 9 other females and of all of them, Sammie is the only one with the ladybugs.  Probably there is some perfectly logical explanation for this yet I am stumped as to what that could be.  I should do some Google searching to see why she is the lucky beneficiary of the tiny red bugs, but you read above about laziness and lack of discipline, right?    Anyway, Sammie has scored an interview with Very Important People.  I hope it goes well for her.  I choose to think that the ladybugs will bring her luck.  I hope the position that she wants is the position that she gets and that the Very Important People treat her well and with respect and take her on lots of fancy vacations and give her extra spending money for those vacations and that at least one of those vacations is on the beach.  And one is in Europe so she can have chocolate croissants for breakfast in the streets of Sienna and possibly make out with Italian boys named Luigi who are not gross.  Good luck again, Sammie!  You have worked hard and you will make an excellent nanny.   I’m sending you a mixed tape soon, eighties-style.  You’re welcome!

 

A List Of Presents Jimmie Has Recently Received

07 Aug 2011 4 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Pets Tags: ,

Quan 

Quan is back!  Oh happy day!  We get him for a minimum of six weeks, and I am thrilled. 

 

I plan on making a calendar of all the men in my life and each of them gets a month.  Quan gets June. 

 

Stylish Hat

 

I got this awesome hat at Dick’s Last Resort plus the fetching bib.  The people there, they are so nice.  You should go.

 

Mini

 

I have a potential new roommate staying with me, sort of a trial period.  That might be a present.  It also might not.  We need to see how well we get along.  So far it’s been great.  Anyway, he has a sweet little dog, Mini.  Mini is fascinated with Murphy and Seamus and can often be found licking the carpet where their food falls or where they have been sitting or where their fur lands when it detaches itself.  Seamus is indifferent to her – she is not food or Murphy or under the bed, he reasons, so why bother with the black quivery thing?  Murphy is terrified of her and extremely jealous for my attention.  He responds to her by eating her specially-made-for-Dachshund-dog-food and then hissing and lunging at her from under the bed.  This in turn causes Mini to react in the most dramatic  and flamboyant fashion with yelping and squealing and general quiveryness.  You’d think she was dying.  We repeat this process about 15 times per day. 

 

Presents from Jonquil and Family

 

One night while Jonquil et al were here, I felt the desire to cook.  I needed wine for the recipe and spent 20 minutes wrangling with my admittedly crappy corker before giving up all pretenses of being strong and classy and just handing it to Bubby.  Both of us strained our backs with that stupid corker before we won that battle.  It was worth it in the end as dinner was delicious, but still . . . .  The day that Jonquil and Bubby left, they bought me presents and left them for me on my table.  See?

 

A Mess, But a Funny One

 (Argh! The picture did not turn out.  I’ll update as soon as my camera battery charges.  Sigh. I’m so organized.)

While I had a house full of people, there were a couple of instances of bathroom drama.  It happens when you have six people and only two bathrooms.  A nameless person was stuck in the upstairs one with no toilet paper so Jonquil’s youngest daughter fetched a new roll (also the last roll in the house) from the downstairs bathroom and threw it up the stairs.  Unfortunately she’s 8 and not a softball player. Instead of the roll going forward up the stairs, it went backwards onto the ceiling shelf in my kitchen.  I came home to a trail of tp hanging down my kitchen wall, giggling girls and an unnamed person still stuck in the bathroom waiting on toilet paper.  Hahahaha!  It’s always an adventure at my house!

 

Notes from Jonquil

Jonquil left me notes all over my house when she left.  I’m still finding them.  I love it!

 

Seamus

 

To me, this is the best present of all.  A few nights ago I picked Seamus up for some snuggling.  He hates it and will tolerate me for about 35 seconds before he’s squirming out of my arms.  But this night, I picked him up and he just gave in.  I’ve had the kitties for two years and for the first time ever with me, Seamus put his head on my shoulder for about two minutes and just purred. 

 

And finally, a present for you

 

Here is a picture of Jimmie, doing what she does best.   

 

A Love Story

12 Jul 2011 3 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Pets Tags:

You guys know I have two cats.  You know that Murphy is Mr. Personality.  You also know that Seamus barely tolerates me.  For whatever reason, they both love me without condition when I have to pee in the middle of the night.  They follow me into the bathroom and wend their way around my legs, telling me how pretty I am and genuinely being affectionate.  But unless I’m having a call of nature at 3:00 am or unless I’m feeding Seamus, he pretty much wants nothing to do with me.

I’ve tried everything to win his love.  I’ve purchased ridiculous cat toys for him.  I bought grooming items and offered to use them on him whenever the urge hits.  I’ve put new blankets on my bed to try to entice him to snuggle with me.  I spend a lot of money on kitty treats which do work at the precise moment that I come home every day.  Seamus greets me at the door, makes sure I’m looking at him and then makes a beeline for the food bowl.  Once he makes it there (after sometimes braining himself on the couch in his excitement and inattention), he purrs and is generally very charming to me.  After the treats have been consumed, about 5 ½ seconds, he reverts back to indifference and hiding under the bed.

The other night I made dinner for myself.  It was standard fare, nothing very exotic.  As I was eating, I noticed that Seamus was paying special attention to me.  I had already given him treats and tried to love on him so I knew that this was unusual.  He kept purring and sniffing around, wrapping himself around my legs and acting a lot like Murphy.  I found it odd yet I was thrilled.  I knew there was something behind it; I have no idea what made me try this, but I put some of my peas on the floor.  You would have thought that his Dwayne Johnson equivalent had walked in the door and proposed marriage.  He was so excited! 

So I got out a plate and filled it up and gave it to him.  I’ve never felt so much love from that cat.  After all of the money and cat therapy and time I’ve spent with him, I am shocked to know that all along, it would have only taken an 88 cent can of peas.  Weirdo.  I’ll take it. 

A Quickie

16 Jun 2011 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Pets

Last night Murphy thought it would be a great idea to try a new drinking fountain.  Despite getting fresh water every day, he’s usually partial to drinking from the toilet and has been known to swig a drink from my glass, the kitchen sink and my house plants, most of which he has eaten.    

I felt like a bath was a great idea last night, although I’m not sure why.  My attention span for baths is about eight minutes.  In that eight minutes, though, Murphy wandered in and out of the bathroom, eyed the water, inspected the tub, sat on the toilet and watched the water, and finally went in for a drink.  The water was so hot that when he took a swallow he levitated right off the tub and out of the bathroom, meowing the whole way, all kinds of pissed off.  The funniest part?  He came back a second time about a minute later and did the same thing all over again.   

Murphy is such an odd little creature.  I love him but I wonder about his little brain sometimes. 

☼ ☼ ☼

Yesterday, the following email exchange happened between a co-worker and my boss – I was copied on all of it: 

Nice Co-Worker:  Jimmie – Thank you so much for helping get my site visit pictures together yesterday so I could send out the site visit report.  I can’t believe you were able to finish up as quickly as you did; your work made it possible to get the entire report out by the end of the day.

Boss:  Holy moly . . . I may puke. 

Isn’t he the nicest guy ever?

☼ ☼ ☼

I updated the below post with the picture of our pretty co-worker.  His name is Javier.   You’re welcome!    

 

Giddyup! Now with more photos!

02 Jun 2011 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Outings, Pets Tags: , ,

Saturday morning I went horseback riding with Madre.  (Yes, this will be that post, the one I teased you with earlier.)  Now Madre has ridden horses her entire life.  I know she rode until she was eight months pregnant with me and likely only took that break because the doctor made her.  I, on the other hand, have not regularly ridden a horse since I was a toddler.  I’ve had interludes here and there but nothing with any sort of consistency.  Plus I was thrown once.  It was a small fall but it was enough to put a stop to my riding for a while.  I say it again, I have no great skills but I can bounce along merrily on occasion. 

Before I get further into the story, I should introduce you to the cast of characters. 

Meet Monty, my valiant steed.  Isn’t he handsome?  Apparently he’s a sports car.

 

Meet Precious, Madre’s majestic beast.  Gorgeous, ain’t she?  She’s also classified as a sports car. 

Meet Girlfriend. She didn’t get to go but I had to include her because she’s just so pretty and she was slightly miffed at being left out.  She’s the limousine of the bunch.

Madre and I saddled up and with the help of some cinder blocks, I wriggled my way onto Monty’s back.  Those are some tall animals and I’m not nearly as flexible as I like to think I am.  I snuck an apple to him in an effort to butter him up, you know, so that he wouldn’t do anything wild and crazy with me atop his back.  I also gave him a few horse cookies on the sly.  As we took off, Madre explained that our mounts for the day were her sports cars (see above) and I had a momentary freak out where I imagined all of the racing around the fields they were going to do with us clinging on for dear life.  This was not what I had signed up for.  I wanted a stroll really, not some sort of NASCAR preview in Mr. Sisk’s hayfield.  Gah!

We moseyed down the hill from the barn and I was preparing for battle with the reins, just knowing that Monty was ready to take off at a canter as soon as we hit flat ground.  Madre even warned me, “Monty will be full of piss and vinegar for a bit but then he will get it out of his system and you’ll be fine.”  Heh, heh, shaky grin.  I was slightly nervous but I was not going to let it show!  I was brave!  And here we went, plod, plod, plod, five minutes pass, plod, plod, plod.  And then! Trot, trot, trot!  Ten paces at trot, trot, trot, then back to plod, plod, plod.  No canter in sight.  Apparently that was it.  That was the piss and vinegar.  Madre then had to explain that “sports car” only meant “smaller horse” and “limousine” meant “larger horse”.  Oh.  I can’t say I wasn’t slightly disappointed.

To make up for it, though, I got these pictures of our lovely horses.  Once you stop your guffawing at the Amish head gear, Madre will explain with only the smallest of sniffs that the proper term for these garments are “fly bonnets” and they protect the horse’s ears from the flies.  Again, oh.  My bad. 

We ran into a bunch of neighbors and one sneaky little cat named Jezebel.  I really wanted to get a picture of her but as I said, sneaky . . . .

I took a picture of my dream house. 

I gave my most winning smile to the couple that owns it when I asked if they would leave it to me in their will.  In reply, they told us about their new puppy. I suppose charm and winning smiles only go so far. 

We saw this swimming hole, complete with perfect little cabin which you can almost see in the background.  If I weren’t certain that the water was just infested with giant poisonous snakes in every make and model, I’d go swimming there.  But I’m a big old chicken.

We crossed two creeks.  Monty was ready for both of them and I was not.  Trot, trot, trot right into a big old ravine and there was no stopping him.  I just knew I was going down and I was mentally preparing for it.  He stopped suddenly, my toes touching the water, his belly skimming it, and started flailing around in the water.  I was a goner.  We both were I was certain. Surprisingly, I didn’t panic.  I was ready for The End.  After a moment of the horrors, I realized that Monty was only playing in the water, splashing both of us in his excitement.  Oh.  It was the most rowdy I had seen him.  I was soaked, of course, and so was he which was most likely the point.  Heh, heh, shaky grin.

We rode through a whole pile of cicadas.  Apparently I smell like the best of potential cicada girlfriends.  A charming young cicada attached himself to my hair and made sweet, sweet love to it for a while before I could figure out how to kindly extricate myself from the tryst and not hurt his feelings. Denied.  He was pissed off and let everyone know it by flying off in a noisy huff.  I’m such a heart breaker.  He just could not accept that it was nothing personal – he’s just not my type.

By the time we ran into Phranke’s mom (her house is on the way to Madre’s), my butt was starting to go numb and my legs were tired.  Holding yourself upright on a horse isn’t as easy as it looks.  You have to use INNER THIGH muscles, people.  And SMALL BACK muscles.  Neither of which I was aware I possessed.  Let it be known that I have both and they are making themselves known to me, even still.  Ow. 

We plod, plod, plodded our way home after hours of riding around glorious scenery and the minute Monty realized that food and bath were imminent, it was canter, canter, canter all the way up the hill.  Heh, heh, shaky grin.  I sort of slithered my way off his back when we stopped and gasped a bit, my head smushed into his neck.  Here I should say that I love the smell of horses and the feel of those long slabs of muscles.  They are such powerful animals.  Anyway, when my legs came back to life, I waddled him into the barn to be de-robed and then back out to be hosed off.  I was overjoyed to have made it home in one piece with only a minimal sunburn and no injuries to speak of.  Madre was flitting around like a bird, jumping around and such.  Oh the humiliating irony of that . . . .

Other than my really sweet farmer’s tan and a plethora of mosquito bites, I think the entire trip was a success.  Of course if I find a tick on me I will lose my mind and rewrite the whole weekend as a tragedy.  So far so good. 

Room

15 May 2011 6 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Home Improvement, Pets Tags: , ,

Have you guys read the book “Room” by Emma Donoghue?  I heard it was awesome.  This has nothing to do with that book, though.  Just thought I would share.

Following are some snippets of conversations heard from Jimmie’s bedroom, last Thursday night.

 “Ooh, I love it!”

“Hoor!”

 “I will cut you, bitch.”

“No, not that way!”

 “Dammit Murphy!”

“Jimmie! Let me do it!”

“Oh, God, did we squish Seamus?”

“Freddie, did you really drive over here in a sports bra and a blanket?”

“Jimmie, thank you for letting me fulfill my dream.  “

“No problem, Felix, thanks for fulfilling your dream in my bedroom.”

And then I went to work puffy-eyed and lethargic on Friday.

You guys do know that my Daddy-O has the link to this here blog, right? Get your minds out of the gutters, pervs.

Remember when I was painting my bedroom over a weekend?  That was merely the first step of a huge process called Operation: Jimmie’s Bedroom.  Again, minds out of the gutter. 

I decided a few months ago that I liked my bedroom but it wasn’t really mine.  I saw a movie in which the bedroom had a certain feel and I wanted that feel.  So I yapped about it to everyone and Felix perked right up.  “A feel?” he says.  And I says, “Yes, soft.”  And he says, “Give me ten minutes.”

And then the plans poured forth.  We talked about color and texture and paint and fabric and chandeliers.  We used words like “fresh” and “glam” and “treatments” and “oh holy crap, I can’t believe we are going to do this.” 

It has taken me months to decide on the comforters and sheets and assorted furniture items.  Several things have arrived in boxes since January and those boxes have yet to be opened.  Murphy and Seamus have set up their guest house on those boxes and it will be a sad day when they come home from work and find them gone.  Let this be a warning to you pets, that day is coming soon.  Prepare now. 

 I also had to choose paint colors.  By now, it should be clear to all of you that I’m a chick.  And while I think Lowe’s and Home Depot are marvelous places, I cannot amuse myself looking at every screw and nail and set of pliers in there.  Apparently every ex-boyfriend I ever had can, though, and all of my whining about “let’s spend time togetherrrrrrrr” should include the caveat “but not in a hardware store”.  Ahem.  I went into both Lowe’s and Home Depot with the idea of finding the perfect paint color and came out with every hue of blue, green, gray and purple they had.  Clearly, I like variety and can amuse myself for hours looking at every single paint sample in the store. 

I proudly showed my 52,000 paint chips to Felix who in a sudden lurch understood that maybe I needed more help narrowing than we originally thought.  I have a feeling that this was the beginnings of a slow panic for him.  I’m so distracted by shiny pretty things and I’m whipped about like a rag doll with every new thought I have.  Ooh, feathers!  Sparkly chandelier! Wow, modern stuff is awesome. . . . Fortunately for him I’m his favorite plus I’m nice plus I cook well so he’s been very patient.  Bribery works wonders.

After Felix narrowed my choices to about 50, I went back to Lowe’s and got more paint chips. Like I said, shiny!  And I taped every single one of those paint chips to my wall and invited Felix to come over and help me choose.  I wish I had a picture of that.  You would laugh hysterically at the picture of horror on his poor face.  We finally chose three of them, one for an accent wall, one for regular walls, and one for small designs.  Oh, it was agony.  (The funniest part about this is Martie and Coach were there also.  Martie took one look at the 68 paint samples on my wall and within about 30 seconds picked one that matched her bedroom décor perfectly.  Decision made. Done and done.  Were it that easy for me . . .)

Now I had big plans for taking pictures all the way through this process so that Felix could use it as a design book of sorts, in case he gets the chance to do this for someone else.  And I wanted to see the progress. But once I bought the paint, I went nuts. Best laid plans of mice and men, and all that . . . . so no before photos. 

I painted like mad for a solid day and then did touch ups for a couple of evenings. Meanwhile, Felix spent HOURS with some poster board and an Exact-o knife making a stencil for me. 

Progress

So the process on Thursday night went like this – feel free to interject the conversations from above wherever you see fit:

Felix and Jimmie leave work at the same time.  Felix arrives at Jimmie’s house before Jimmie does despite their leaving at the same time from the exact same location.  He runs to the house with giant stencil in a wad so that it wouldn’t get wet in the monsoon (again) and then waits miserably on the porch for Jimmie to arrive.

Jimmie arrives.

Jimmie and Felix lay the stencil out and ooh and ahh over it.

Jimmie opens a bottle of wine.

Jimmie and Felix sample cake that Jimmie made (divine).

Jimmie and Felix sample cake again.

Jimmie and Felix drink wine.

Jimmie and Felix have dinner.

Jimmie and Felix drink wine.

Felix mixes the paint while Jimmie hovers.

Felix demonstrates the proper paint application treatment. 

Jimmie tries to recreate it and fails miserably.

"Jimmie! Let me do it!"

Jimmie hovers for a while then parks herself on the bed, watching and looking pretty.  And drinking wine.

Freddie arrives wearing a sports bra and blanket.

All ignore odd attire and Jimmie and Felix and Freddie drink wine and feed Freddie.

Murphy discovers stencil and tries to play with it.

Felix has apoplexy.

Murphy settles in for a nap on the stencil.

Why is everyone freaking out?

Felix and Freddie apply the stencil.

Felix demonstrates the proper paint application treatment.

Jimmie and Freddie try to recreate it and fail miserably.

Jimmie and Freddie give up all pretenses of hovering and park themselves on the bed, watching and looking pretty. And drinking wine.

Felix works his ass off.

How come I'm all alone over here?

Jimmie and Freddie ooh and ahh a lot.

Freddie goes home with cake at reasonable hour.

Stencil bows up in odd places, prompting much cursing and yelling.

Jimmie and Felix wrestle with stencil. A lot.

Jimmie and Felix win and apply paint twice more.

Felix and Jimmie hop around like morons in excitement over paint treatment and lack of sleep.

Felix and Jimmie put bedroom back together and hop around like morons some more.

Felix leaves with cake in the wee hours of the morning.

Jimmie sighs in happiness a lot and stares at her newly painted walls.

Murphy, indifferent to the happy sighs, purrs loudly on Jimmie’s stomach.

The end. 

And here mes amigos, is the finished product, at least for this week.  The bedding is not included yet. I wish I were a better photographer.  More progress will be made but I will spare you the write up and just show a picture of the absolute finished room.  Don’t expect it anytime soon.

Squee!

What do y’all think I should do for Felix as a thank you gift?  In your suggestion thought process, please note that he also offered to come help me pick up a bed for my third bedroom and in the drive over to my house, he hit a curb and blew out his tire.  His man-truck had to sit on the side of the road for a while as Madre and I came to his rescue.  Here he was trying to do a good deed and the man-truck has a minor heart attack.  It only took him an hour of swearing and cursing and sweating to bring it back to life.  What’s the phrase?  No good deed goes unturned.  How do I repay him?  I mean besides purchasing more wine and making more cake and looking pretty, of course?

 

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