The TP Saga

You know that quote about having the wisdom to know the difference between what you can and cannot change? Today, I finally accepted the truth.

The truth is that I have a bad dog.




OK, those are old pictures, back from the days of bad hair cuts - because we've all got them - and even worse behaviour. For the record, I'm not responsible for the orange bows. She's much better behaved and prettier than she used to be; but she ain't perfect yet.

Tallulah Belle Poodle loves nothing more than to shred toilet paper.

It's true. It's been six and a half years since I've been able to safely keep the TP on the roll, or even on the back of toilet. Toilet paper at my house has to be kept out of sight and out of reach. TP roller holder thingies at my house do nothing but collect dust. And confuse guests.

I can't tell you how many times I've had guests at my house who think they're being helpful by putting the TP back on the roller. Of course - not being present at the time - I never know about their "help" until they're long gone and I come across a mess of soggy toilet papier-mâché. Because, Tallulah doesn't eat TP; she just chews it up so that it's good and wet, and then flings it all over the house.

So, today I decided to remove the temptation... from the guests, not the poodle.

Because I'm gonna need the TP.

The truth is that it took me three days to get this job done because the guy who built my house used every screw known to man, in order to attach those holders to the vanities. Seriously. You'd think he'd use four of the same screws, or possibly two kinds of screws; but he used four - count them: 1 2 3 4 - different IRREGULAR screws to attach the toilet paper roller holder thingie to the vanity.

I went through my own tools and my computer tools from back in the day when being A+ certified was cool... not that I was ever A+ certified. I just bought the tools and the book to look the part. I went to the Mecca (AKA, Home Depot) and bought a set, and when I still couldn't get the right size I had to mooch from my dad,who actually has MORE tools than Home Depot.

Finally, after much driving around, collection of tools and then a few twists with the right screw drivers, I shed my home of all toilet paper roller holder thingies for good.

In case your curious, here's some photographic proof of all the tools that were required (or otherwise misused) for this task.

(The above photo has been heavily cropped so that you can't see how much hair is actually in my sink.)

See also, the basket that now houses my TP. There's a matching one in the other bathroom too, so that guests are unlikely to be confused.

You may be remembering that I said TP has to be out of sight and out of reach; and thinking to yourself that it's neither out of sight nor out of reach. Except that the poodle is only three feet tall. She can't see it now, and she won't reach for it until she figures it out. Which she will, eventually. She's Mensa, so it's only a matter of time.

When that happens, I'll be installing fire and water proof safes in the walls above the toilets.

And I'm only going to use one type of screw.

WHOOT!

HolyCrapCanYouBelieveIt, this blog has actually got three followers! Three people - two of whom aren't relatives, friends or otherwise paid by me - who are willing to publicly admit to reading the drivel that I type out on a semi-regular basis. Sure, it could be that they don't intentionally follow my blog, and are followers by accident; but I'll take what I can get. In my optimistic yet socially inept world, three followers is a good thing!

Even better than that, my blog was recently a recipient of a very prestigious award. Linlah from corn-bean bestowed it upon me yesterday, and I am duly honored. (Psst- read her blog - it's excellent!)

Plus, any time that I get to let the f-bomb fly on my blog without actually dropping it myself, I'm game. And so, without further ado, I present to you the most excellent award:



It's small I know. It's not my fault... I stole it from linlah's website, and this is all she had.

It's the thought that counts, though, right? Plus, big honors come in small packages and all that.




Conditions of this award are such that I'm supposed to follow the below instructions.

Instructions: You can’t tag the blogger that tagged you. When you post about receiving this award make sure to include the person that gave you the award and link back to them. Select and post, with links, the five blogs you are awarding. Then let your winners know they won an award from you by emailing them or leaving a comment on their blog. Last but not least list five addictions. Seriously just FIVE and while I’m sure some of you have more than 5 there’s just not enough time.

My Winners:

Iambossy - Where speaking in the third person is an art form. And, heck, who doesn't want to be bossy?

Odd, Good, True - Try to muddle your way past the fact that standard poodles make her anxious... it's worth it, and she doesn't know better.

Blunt Delivery - Honesty in a way that you'll wish you said it first.

Rural Rambles - Life has had to take temporarily precedence over this blog, but I miss Sunday Suds.

Arren Williams' Blog - OK, it's different from most of the other blogs that I read; but I love this guy's work. He puts rooms together in a way that looks soooo good, without making them look staged. Even better, he does it on a budget and in an earth friendly way. WWAD (What Would Arren Do?) is a question that I ask myself often. And, yeah, I wrote about 5 paragraphs about this man's work before I realized that it would come across as some sort of crazy stalker-ish type diatribe. We wouldn't want the truth to come out so I deleted my gushings... but if I lived on the other side of the country and/or could afford (and could convince him) to fly out west, I'd so love to have him design my basement... Heck, he's so good, I'd probably let him rip up all the work I've done for the last five years and redo the main floor of the house too. Except, he's earth friendly, so he wouldn't. He'd just tweak, repaint and refinish what I already have until it looks - in his words - FAB. OK. Yes. I gushed anyway. I couldn't help it. He's that good. Read his blog!

My Five Addictions:

Home Decor - I'm an Arren Williams Wannabe.

Gardening - Lois Hole, I'm not; but it doesn't stop me from trying.

Photography - What am I going to do with 10GB of pictures of my pets?

Cooking - Butter is so good for you!

Standard Poodles - Eat your heart out, Cupcake....


FOR THE RECORD - I'm well aware that my bestowing my prize upon the above five bloggers is not unlike forwarding an email to ten friends right now, lest I get zits all over my face and bad luck for life. I'll bet that a bunch (all) of you have already received this prize from other's too. BUT, you know what? I've already got the zits. And I'm socially inept. And my very first blogging prize makes me so proud. So, take the darned prize. Brag about it in your own blog, and pass it on. Trust me - you don't want the zits.

Today's visitor

They came. They visited. They brought treats, and they let me hold the baby.

Then, they left with the baby, and took all the related responsibilities - and the dirty diapers - home with them.

It doesn't get much better than that.

She's beautiful... She's got a head full of thick black hair, big alert eyes and great taste in music. I wish you could see more than her shiny, uncalloused foot, but I didn't ask permission to post pictures. You'll have to go find a baby visitor of your own.

Da Ears

About a year ago, I had an idea to get a basket to hold my magazines. 30 seconds after I brought one home, Himself appropriated the basket for himself. I've never gotten it back.


This is the view to my left, when I sit in my favorite chair. If I want to know where the cat is, I look for the ears.

They're also a good indication of his mood.

Most of the time, when he's just chillin', the ears point forward.

If a dog walks by, the ears twitch and temporarily point towards the back.

If Himself is particularly cranky, the ears do a very good impression of jet plane wings.

When he's feeling playful, the ears will hover above the basket with little to no movement. Then, when the poodle walks by, a white paw will whip out at warp speed and swipe past the topknot before disappearing again. The ears never move, and poor Tula doesn't know what hit her.

The look on her face is the reason why I don't mind finding someplace else to store my magazines.

You know you're tired when...

I came to work today and looked down:

Dark brown pants.
Heavy cream socks
black ballet slippers.


Oops.

Told you so...

I don’t have a particularly good body image. I’ve overweight, too curvy and too tall. But. I do have really nice feet. Believe me: for me to say this, it must be true. (As a rule, I think that feet are gross.) I’ve got relatively small and narrow feet with high arches and thin ankles. And, dangit, when I started jogging I developed some pretty nice calves too.

So, it’s no surprise that I noticed right away when my feet started to swell. Then they swelled to the point that I couldn’t wear shoes. There was no question in my mind that something wasn’t right. I know my feet, and this was not normal.

Off to the doctor I go. Since I haven’t managed to find a GP that I like since moving to town, I’ve been going to the clinic near my house. This is a new doctor that I've never seen before. He walked into the room, sat down at his computer and asked me what I needed without making eye contact. I explained the problem, he told me that feet tend to swell when the weather gets warm and that it’s common. So common in fact, that he sees women complaining about their swollen feet all day. He’s bored with swollen feet, and while he doesn’t want me to be sick, he hopes that it is something serious; because he could really use a change. He then fills out a form for me to take to the lab. He said that he was sending me for lab tests because he’s supposed to send me for lab tests, but he thought it was a waste of time. He even told me not to bother coming back for the results. He was that sure that there was nothing wrong.

Quite frankly, I didn’t buy it. I know he’s the guy with the medical degree, but this didn’t seem right. My feet don’t swell in the heat. Heck, I had stress fractures in both feet – at the same time – a few summers ago, and they didn’t swell like this.

The next day, I ran down to the lab to get my tests done. Not two hours later, my phone rang. It was the clinic; the Dr wanted me to come back to discuss the results of my blood tests.

I had my follow up appointment today. It's nothing big... I'm anemic and the protein in my blood is too low. I guess it was enough, though. He actually made eye contact, and had an honest to goodness conversation with me. (Well... as much of a conversation that's needed to say 'take these supplements and eat more leafy greens and nuts'.) He seemed excited to see something a little bit different than the usual heat induced swollen feet, and apparently this is what he was looking for.

... I can't decide if I should tell him 'I told you so', or if I should make an effort not to be so accommodating.

The lengths we go

The 8 pound beast is slowly driving me mad. Love him. Don't love what I'm becoming more and more certain is dementia. The lil dude is seriously stressed out, and apparently the very expensive happy pills aren't enough.

Somehow, I discovered that he's calmer when held really tightly. That led me to think of baby swaddling, and that led to anxiety wraps. I'm at the point where I'll try just about anything, but $60US is a lot of money on something that may or may not work for more than a day.

I was mulling this over a few nights ago when the lil dude had himself a doozy of a freak out. I couldn't settle him down, and I was desperate enough to try whatever came to mind. I pulled out a spool of self adhesive wrap/bandage that I had left over from when Tallulah had hurt her leg, and I wrapped him up in it, from head to toe. Amazingly, it calmed him down.

So, the next day I went out and bought a reusable tensor bandage, and he's been sporting it (in a slightly less mummy fashion) ever since. All's not right with his world quite yet, but it's an improvement.