Time.

I find myself looking at the calendar and checking the clock often lately. I'm counting the days until Steve comes home for Christmas and at the same time I feel like if I am not on my way somewhere for one commitment or another I am surely forgetting something. And sometimes that's true. But not today.

This week I have two empty white squares - today and tomorrow - in the middle of dates filled to the borders and beyond of activities and commitments and time suckers. Some days having so much to keep me busy is exhilarating, and even a welcome distraction. Other days it's exhausting.

This morning we woke up late. This after I went to bed last night with a runny nose and a hint of a sore throat, Ladybug woke me from a deep sleep to go outside at 3 a.m. Nothing like a brisk walk around the yard in the wee hours to get the blood flowing. Having these (very active) dogs is like having toddlers in the house again. They're fun. They bring us so much joy. But they make any task take twelve times longer because we have to make sure the dogs have gone out and are taken care of before we leave, or we're tripping over dogs while trying to clean the house, or it's time to feed the dogs, or whatever. And sometimes I have no clue what they want or need because they can't tell me and it seems like I've done all I can do and the answer ... is usually more attention. When I'm on the phone. Or trying to help a kid with homework. Or SLEEPING. Or (and) feeling like poo. And like toddlers sometimes do, they tear up the house, ruin our nice things, and embarrass me in front of my friends. But none of that matters in those moments when you watch them sleep, or they make you laugh at the sheer pleasure they get from playing with a ball or having a good run. And there's that whole unconditional love thing.

Speaking of unconditional love, I do love my children (the human variety) so very much, but gosh will I be glad when Sam is back on two good legs. I am soooo tired of carrying stuff for him. These last five weeks have been slightly reminiscent of the days when my kids were still tiny and they - and all their gear - had to be carried everywhere. (Is there a pattern here?) I take him to the doctor on Monday to have his cast taken off. And then I'm gonna' party like it's 1999.

Not really. But I might have a glass of wine or two to celebrate.

Oh, the things we take for granted sometimes. Like being able to walk on our own. And being able to sleep through the night.

Early bedtime tonight to try to ward off this cold. Four days until Sam's cast comes off. Ten days until daddy comes home. And I'm counting every one.

A quick and random update.

Sam got the cast on his leg yesterday. Praise Jesus, it did not have to go all the way up to his thigh as the ER doctor had said it would. It ends just below his knee, and is much less cumbersome than the splint, according to Sam. What a relief. Also a relief: they took more x-rays and said the bones are healing nicely. We go back to that doctor in five weeks ... so Sam will (hopefully) get his cast off for Christmas!

The weather here has been weird, which has become the norm I guess. It was pushing 70 degrees over the weekend and this morning I have snow on my deck. Brr. I don't mind, though. I love those first few days of snow ... it really gets me in the holiday spirit. I do need a new winter coat, though, so I guess I better move that up the priority list.

This week the kids have a short week of school because they get the deer hunting opener (firearm season) off on Thursday, and then a teacher in-service Friday. Then next week is Thanksgiving, of course, and - HAPPY HAPPY! - Steve is flying home from Colorado for the weekend. I feel like I've been living in my truck lately and there's no end to it in sight.

And the dogs. Gunnar has bypassed Ladybug in height, and probably at least caught up to her in weight. His head is twice the size of hers. I do love this cute stage where he's half-puppy/half-big dog and really fun to play with, but I also look forward to the time when he will lay on my feet and not give a darn when the cats walk by. I'm really trying to take a few minutes here and there to play with the dogs and let them stretch their legs since they've been cooped up with Sam hobbling around here on crutches. Now that I've given them some time to run around this morning, I'm off to have lunch with Rachel at school. They have their annual Thanksgiving celebration in which each child can invite a guest. It's the one time during the year I get to experience school lunch again, Turkey Day style. And this is the last year I will do this, at least with my own kids ... as Rachel will be moving up to Middle School next year.

Awww. My babies are growin' up.

Clean Slate Sunday: 9.16.12 edition

Here we are two weeks into the school year and I'm finally getting a handle on the whole routine again. Last week I had something going on every day in addition to having to pick Sam up from football practice every evening and attending his game on Wednesday, and by Friday night my brain and my nerves were fried. Fortunately we had an easy weekend and I was able to spend most of it at home catching up on a few things I had neglected during the week. Shoot, I didn't even get out of my pajamas on Saturday.

Now it's Sunday night and I am rejoicing in the calm and quiet. When the kids went to bed I turned off the lights and headed to my room, too. I have one dog snoring at the foot of the bed, a cat snuggled up next to her, the puppy asleep in his crate in the corner, and me with clean sheets and PJ's and my laptop. And peace.

It's been a while since I've done a Clean Slate Sunday post, but I would like to get back into the habit. Sunday nights have historically been one of my favorite times of each week - a time when we settle in early, prepare for the week ahead and look forward to new beginnings. My CSS posts began as a way for me to review what I had accomplished over the past few days and make a plan for the coming week. I need at least that much structure in my life. Planning is good. Lack of planning, not so good.

So I'm looking forward to the week ahead. It will be busy, but the calendar isn't quite so crowded as it was last week. I'm happy I will have a little more time to be at home taking care of business, doing some cleaning, and lots of puppy training. We're working on the basics right now: sit, stay, come, down, that kind of stuff. And continuing housebreaking, of course. It's been interesting doing all this with the puppy while still trying to accomplish some of those basics with a stubborn old hound dog who still has terrible manners. (Not for lack of us trying, either.) But for the most part it's great having two dogs in the house. They have become fast friends and they play and play and play until they wear each other out or we put them in separate corners, which is what usually happens. Only because we get sick of the barking. Because apparently chasing each other around the furniture, playing tug-o-war with toys or terrorizing the cats isn't enough. We must also make noise! Aye yi yi. We're working on teaching them to use their inside voices. But there again, we've been trying to get Ladybug to stop barking when told to for four years now. So far? FAIL. That whole hunting/barking thing is pretty deeply engrained in that one.

Anywho, I've been trying to get a picture of these dogs roughhousing over the past couple of days because they look so stinkin' funny. Gunnar pulls his lips back and shows those vicious puppy teeth, and Ladybug basically pins him to the floor by the neck. He pulls a sneak attack and nibbles at her hind legs, so she whips around and chases him until he squeezes into the space between the back of the couch and the wall (which will be impossible - or at least much tougher - for him in a couple months). I got a dozen pictures with two black-and-tan blurs, a couple videos with lots of barking going on, and this:

The panting puppy with crazy alien eyes, poised to defend himself against the howling hound.

It's a pretty accurate picture of our days lately. It's like the canine UFC around here. Last pup standing gets the peanut butter-filled Kong. Or something like that. Fun times.

Puppy training and back-to-school time.

Our new puppy sure is creating a lot of smiles around here.

Look at this. How can he not?

Gunnar is a quick study. He's learning his name, he knows to head for the door when we say "let's go potty," and he has even figured out how to weasel his way into Ladybug's heart. Or is it under that poor old dog's skin? A little bit of both, I think.

He has spent the last two nights sleeping in the dog crate with very little protest. We've gotten up 2-3 times every night (and by "we" I mean me and Gunnar) to go outside which is vaguely reminiscent of middle-of-the-night wakeups when we had babies. No wonder I'm so tired.

While we're getting used to having another four-legged friend in the house we're also getting used to a new routine. Sam is now into daily practices for football and it seems like we have something else going on in addition to that every day. Last night Sam and I went to his back-to-school night. Sam had a doctor's appointment first thing this morning and tonight Rachel and I are going to her BTS night while Sam is at practice. It's busy, but it's good. Well. It's good at the moment. It wasn't so good last night when everyone was tired and the kids were bickering and I had my fill of it and went a little ballistic on them. Everyone's a little calmer and kinder today, though. Amazing how that works.

The weather's been pretty warm lately, but the mornings are quite cool. I'm starting to pull plants from the garden and toss flowers that have run their course. Time to simplify outdoors and start to think about doing some organizing and decluttering in the house. I'm looking forward to having some time during the day to focus on that kind of stuff without having kids going behind me and undoing it all.

Six days to go before they start school. Six. Days.

 

I (we) GOT A PUPPY!

Oh yes I did.

*Ahem*   

We did.

We brought home a puppy.

(With daddy's blessing, of course.)

The new pup's name is Gunnar.

I took this picture when I visited yesterday.

I'm not even sure how I walked away without putting him in the truck right then. But when it comes to big decisions Steve always suggests we "sleep on it." So I tried. Do you think I got any sleep last night? Yeah ... no.

Rachel and I went and picked him up this morning. We were able to surprise Sam, as he had stayed the night at a friend's house and knew nothing about the possibility of getting a puppy.

 Gunnar is settling in.

Ladybug sniffed him out and slobbered all over him, and has pretty much ignored him the rest of the day.

I am in love. My heart goes pitter-pat every time he looks at me with those floppy ears.

Oh, we've already had to clean up a couple potty accidents in the house. And he and I had a little discussion about the inappropriateness of using my laptop cord as a chew toy. But I adore him, the kids are so happy to have a German Shepherd again (as am I), and I can see Steve falling in love with him when he finally gets to meet him.

The cats? They are not so happy. But they'll get over it.

Wildlife encounters.

I'm beginning to wonder what kind of wild critter I will encounter tomorrow. And under what circumstances.

Today I was picking up a few things in Walmart and as I turned my buggy down one aisle I saw a bird fly from one side of that aisle to the other - from the TP to the paper towels. I looked at Rachel: "Did you see that?!" She hadn't. So I went about my business and about the time I reached for some tissues, Rachel said "there it is!" and sure enough, there was the bird watching me from atop a box of Kleenex.

Nice. And a little creepy.

Yesterday - or rather, last night about the time we were all getting ready to go to bed - our encounter was with a mouse.

Yes. In the house.

I know. Finding how it got in is on my list of things to do. Straightaway.

So ... can I just say? One of our cats is worthless in the mousing department. He thinks mice are great toys and he will catch them and play with them until they outsmart him ... which honestly, doesn't take much. It's funny to watch when you see him do it outside, but in the house? Not so much. I'm relatively certain the mouse got in somewhere under the kitchen sink, and I'm pretty sure Patch The Kitty batted that mouse around until it found someplace to hide IN MY BEDROOM. (Which would explain why I woke up to the sound of that crazy cat racing around the perimeter of my bedroom a couple nights ago.)

In the interest of keeping the story short, I will tell you that our encounter with the mouse involved me squealing at least twice, me and Rachel hopping on top of my bed, Sam with a flashlight, broom, and knee-high boots, and two cats who didn't know which way was up for all the screaming, laughing and scrambling.

That mouse ran across my bedroom floor and hid under the bed, then through the front room and hid under the cat scratcher, then into the kitchen and under the oven. All of this took probably a half hour with us tearing things apart - carefully, none of us wanting it to jump out at us - in each room. You can just imagine the chaos.

And all of that excitement came after my up-close-and-personal encounter with a 'possum Friday night.

Short version: hound dog slipped her collar after dark, ran out into the swamp and cornered a 'possum, barked (and barked and barked and barked and barked and barked) until I got concerned she might be in trouble, I trekked through the swamp with a flashlight and a leash to see what was the matter, saw angry (and VERY LARGE) rodent hissing at dog, grabbed a big stick and tried to distract dog, rodent tried to make a run for it, dog grabbed rodent by the neck and shook until it curled into a ball either dead or playing dead, I held the stick over the 'possum with one hand and grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck with the other.

Y'all, that was the biggest opossum I have ever seen. I have known 18-lb house cats, and this animal was bigger. And my 45-lb dog showed no fear. I know she was a hunter in her former life, but knowing she can do it and seeing her in action are two different things. I couldn't believe she came out of there without a scratch on her.

Nevermind that I wanted to beat the crap out of her for making me go out there ...

And nevermind that she's supposed to hunt raccoons. (As far as I know.)

Whatever. I hope that's all the excitement I have around here for a while. Whew.

In which Jen posts another blurry picture ...

... facing the morning sun streaming in through the window behind this chair ... because if I reached to pull the curtain closed it would disturb the creature. And how could I not at least try a shot at the sweetest photo ever?

OK, maybe not the sweetest ever, but hound dogs with their lanky legs and floppy ears sure make good subjects.

I swear I did not make her ears do that.

I'm still trying to figure out how Ladybug got herself into that chair, did her turn around and around and laid down without disturbing the pillow. Smart one, she. You wouldn't know it if you lived with her, though. Aye yi yi.

Remember when I said I was gonna' retrain her? Mmm, yeah. Well here's my update.

The first few days were great. Bug was really starting to chill out. And then it rained. For like, days. Have I ever mentioned Ladybug is also a meteorologist? No joke. She can sense a front coming in and will start whining, acting like she needs to go outside when she doesn't really, and sometimes she'll even put herself in a corner - lying behind the couch with her nose facing the wall.

So not only could I not do anything to distract her from the thing that was causing her stress, I didn't feel like taking her out for our daily walks in the rain, either. I know: pet parent FAIL.

Y'all, the training has not gone fabulously since then. Life happened. We were gone a lot when Steve's dad was in and out of the hospital (leaving Bug in her crate or tied outside), the holiday season is here and Steve is here and that means more visitors than usual (more strangers, more knocking on the door, more voices she doesn't recognize), and as the weather has turned colder we have not gotten as much exercise outside (not only do the people not want to be cold, but Bug isn't a fan of the cold, either).

But all is not lost. We have made some progress. I know when people approach the house I need to either remove Ladybug from the picture by locking her in my bedroom, or at the least put a leash on her so I can control her. And treats are worth their weight in gold. Cheese, bacon, or whatever packaged dog treats we have on hand. I swear she'll recite the alphabet for you if you offer her a piece of cooked chicken. Ya' know what else is awesome? Delivery people and/or contractors who have the patience to play along and let me work with Ladybug while they're here.

"Don't talk to her or pay any attention, just let her sniff you while I hold her leash."

Yes, I'm that crazy dog lady now.

Hopefully I'll have more positive progress to tell you about in a few weeks. *crossing fingers*

Happy Friday!

I am not a dog whisperer.

But Dear God in Heaven do I need one.

My dog - despite my love for her and the wonderful companionship she provides - makes me crazy sometimes. Just when I think I've got her figured out, or that she's finally mellowing out, she throws me for a loop.

Ladybug has always been a barker, but for two main things: people and raccoons. Bring over a pack of dogs of any size and breed and she will run and jump and sniff and play with all of them. Excitedly. Without barking.

People? She barks at. Always. (Well, except us.) A strange vehicle pulls in the driveway and Ladybug either runs to the end of her lead (if she's outdoors) and barks non-stop, or runs to a window to get a better look ... and barks non-stop.

Oh, and? She slobbers. So you can imagine what my windows look like.

She's persistent, too.

I know you iz out der.

I iz watchin' fer you.

Where you at?

The other day while the plumbers were here I was so embarrassed by my own dog's behavior that I decided I had two options: 1) give up on this doggy business and find her a new home, or 2) commit to some serious training. Or retraining. Whatever.

Since 90 percent of the time she is The Best Dog In The World, I went for option 2 and bought a book about rehabilitating your "reactive" dog. Because as it turns out, as I was reading about reactive dogs - dogs that become fixated on other dogs, or people, or go bonkers when put on a leash, or can't seem to settle down in the car - I realized I was reading about my dog.

I iz tyred. But pretty sure you still out there.

Some history: we adopted Ladybug from a no-kill shelter. I picked her out from hundreds of dogs I saw on-line. When we went to visit her she was so laid back and came right to us when the volunteer dropped her leash. We took her for a walk and she pulled a bit, but otherwise she was great.

We learned that she was about five years old, had been picked up as a stray and had been at the shelter for six months. Black dogs aren't adopted as often as lighter colored dogs, they told us. My heart melted.

At home it took her a while to settle in, which we expected. She seemed a little jumpy over loud noises and quick movements. Bug wasn't housebroken (I suspect as a hunting dog she was kept outside in a kennel) so it was like having a puppy; we house trained her, and I trained her to sleep in a crate. Neither of those tasks was a small feat and I spent several nights falling asleep with my mp3 player drowning out the noise of her whining in the crate.

Bug has a few bad manners, mostly involving food. We have learned to never leave her in the house alone with an open bag of trash. And never leave your snack unattended on the arm of the sofa.

She has learned a few things in the three years she has been with us. She sits at the door for you to put her leash on for a walk, and sits and waits for you to put her food in her dish. She has warmed up to the cats. She goes right to her crate when I tell her it's bedtime. 

But she flips right out when a strange vehicle pulls in the driveway, or when people she doesn't know come into the house. Or approach the house. Or look in the direction of the house from a mile away.

I have learned that if I put her on her leash and allow her to sniff out the strange peeps, she will eventually settle down. (Makes sense - she's a hound. Sniffing is her life.) But honestly, she is a very muscular dog of a breed historically trained to hunt bear. She can look pretty intimidating when she's tugging at the end of her tie-out, barking and slobbering. Who wants to then let that animal sniff their hand?

It's a survival mechanism. Her head tells her strange creatures might be there to hurt her, so she's going to take care of them first. Scare them off. If they seem intimidated her senses pick up on that and it feeds the beast. She gets stressed when her barking doesn't make them go away, so that feeds the beast. And so on and so on.

It's gotten so bad lately that she sometimes barks when the phone rings. Or in the morning when the house creaks and groans as the sun warms it up.

I wish I was kidding.

In other words, I have a 59-lb wuss on my hands. One that could be dangerous (as any dog could) if we don't turn this train around.

So I have begun a new regime. First, Bug is on vacation. She's doing nothing but sleeping, eating, going outside to do her business and take walks with me. She's chillin' to give those stress hormones a chance to fizzle out. And I'm giving her lots of love and attention, she's playing with the kids, and she's getting treats just about as often as I say her name. I've even been feeding her her kibble out of my hand. She's learning mama=good and safe and fun things and the sound of her name=good and safe and fun things. Very zen, right? Let's hope so.

It sounds crazy, but I can already see the difference in her. She's much calmer already. I can tell she's a little confused and maybe even a little suspicious of all the treats flying around, but that's ok.

I'm gonna' journal our progress and I'll update here.

Have I mentioned my lack of the patience gene? Yeah?

Send some good vibes our way, k? I am up to the task but some added positive thoughts sure can't hurt.

Woof.

Homegirl's been looking at dogs (and PUPPIES!) on petfinder.com. 

Do you know what this means?

It means homegirl needs something to do. Divert her attention! Say "NO!" and redirect! (Yeah, like you would at a 2-yr-old reaching for the candle burning on the coffee table. Hot!)

Yes, exclamation points! Because it's urgent.

I go through this every few months. Those feelings of missing our old German Shepherd come back around and I start fawning over the sweet faces of those babies needing homes. That's how we got our Ladybug. We had been without a dog for about five months and it just wasn't the same around here. We are animal lovers and our house isn't full unless we have a few furry friends around. I saw Ladybug's face and those silly hound dog ears looking at me from the computer screen and I fell in love.

How could I not?

I'm certain she's a former coon hunter. She still would hunt if we asked her to (and does even when we wish she wouldn't). But overall, for the past three years she has been a great family dog. She still has terrible manners like stealing food off your plate if you walk away (and I'm still working on her), but she's great with the kids and the cats.

See?

 They are obviously not bothered by the dog.

Though I'm slightly disturbed at how chunky Whiskers looks here. Obviously not her good side.

Anyway. I'm sleeping on the whole second dog thing. Again. I found listings (and pictures!) of another young hound dog and some puppies I would love to meet. And two gorgeous German Shepherds, but they're just far enough away that I'm not sure I want to make the drive. Oh, and the adoption fee for one of them is cah-ray-zee high. Which is probably a good thing because it makes me stop and think.

Seriously. What the heck am I doing looking at adoptable dogs? My heart turns to mush and I want all of them. But winter is coming and the last thing I want to do is house-train a dog in the cold. Again.

What's one more, though?

Eh. Twice the food. Twice the poop. Double the dog fur sticking to the baseboards. But it's so worth it, isn't it?

Ahhh, my eternal struggle. It's not like I have nothing else to do around here. I mean, did you read yesterday's post?

I'm backing away from the computer now. 

Slowly ... backing ... away ...

What? I am!

Going to snuggle my dog now. In all her bacon breath and gray chin glory. Mhmm. I'm gonna' enjoy the one I already have. And probably keep thinking about how she would luuurve another dog to play with.

Tic & Tac.

We have a couple new members of the family. Tic and Tac are Rachel's new goldfish. She purchased them and their various accessories - goldfish food, gravel and a castle for the fish bowl - all by herself to keep them in her bedroom.

I am allowing this as motivation for her to keep her bedroom clean. *fingers crossed*

So now, for the past 48 hours, I have been hearing about everything Tic and Tac are doing. Or not doing. Or Girl Child is wondering aloud what they should be doing. Is it time to feed them again?

She looked on-line to try to figure out whether they are male or female. I suggested she just assume she has one of each and go with that.

Tic & Tac were named such because, along with the fish, Rachel also bought ... wait for it ... orange Tic Tacs.

Yes. They are named after the 1 1/2 calorie breath mint.

Clever, she is.

And really, they're not much bigger than Tic Tacs at this point. I hope the fish (fishes?) last a lot longer than Tic Tacs usually do around here.

Our last goldfish? Was eaten by one of the cats while we were away on vacation. Rachel is taking appropriate measures to assure her fish ... or fishes ... do not meet the same fate.

Here's hoping.

Photo credit

In my next life I want to be a cat.

Oooh, so comfy.

A little to the left, mama. 

Could you scratch my ears?

Oh wait.

Nevermind. I got it.

Now if you would just stop moving around ...

and get that camera out of my face.

I could go back to sleep.

I just wanna sleep. 

But no. You persist.

SRSLY?

Stop it or I will eat your camera.

 I'M NOT KIDDING!

Now leave me alone.

What is wrooooong with me??

I've got the music playing.

Pretty poinsettias decorating the house.

Fresh fluffy snow outside.

Yummy candles burning.

Christmas cards arriving in the mail every day.

Even peppermint-scented soap in the bathroom.

Where the heck is my Christmas spirit?!?

OK, to say I don't have any Christmas spirit probably isn't accurate. I do enjoy the sights and sounds of the season and the anticipation of celebrating Christ's birth with friends and family. It's not like I've got a case of the Bah-humbugs. I'm just not as excited as I usually am 10 days before Christmas.

Today I sorted through the few little gifts I have for the kids in hopes that it would inspire me to list the things I still want to get for them and devise a plan of action.

Nope.

Maybe it's because we don't have a Christmas tree yet. But I kinda want to wait until Steve is home so we can all go pick one out together.

*sigh*

Maybe I need some caffeine.

Maybe I should take a cue from the animals. Look, they seem to have set aside their differences for the holidays and they don't give a rip what's happening in the world outside:

I have never, ever had any combination of cats and dogs that would curl up together like this.

Aww. I will declare this our own little Christmas miracle!

Here's hoping the excitement filters in over the next few days ...

MIA

We have two cats. I haven't seen this one for about three days:

Snowbell is the mouthiest, but lovingest cat I have ever known. I think he thinks he's a dog; he'll greet you at the door, follow you around the house (I can't tell you how many times I've tripped over him as he tried to run ahead of me), and let you know when his food dish is anywhere near empty.

The cats come and go as they please. They have been spayed and neutered, so we're not concerned about adding to the kitty population, but out here in the country they have the potential to encounter any number of wild animals and who knows what else while they're outside. I suppose it's a risk we take, knowing full well that every time we open the door for them they might never come back. Especially Snowbell, because he likes to be outside at night. He's a great mouser.

Oh, dear.

Think good thoughts for him, will ya'?

Hello, kitty.

Comfy?

Mhmm. I thought so.

The tile: Water, meet Saw.

We couldn't possibly make C-shaped cuts like this without using a wet saw. I know we couldn't possibly do it because we tried.

And then we tried again.

And again.

See? Our attempts resulted in a lot of broken tiles.

I'm kidding. Sort of.

Some of those are just scraps from really great score-and-snap cuts, but several of them are from failed attempts at something more than we could handle. So we rented a wet saw. Have you ever seen one of these contraptions? Just the name "wet saw" seems like a bad idea, doesn't it? And the directions from the gentleman who helped us with the rental: "Just pour water in here and plug it in ..." gave me the heebie jeebies. It's a good thing I've watched so many episodes of This Old House so I knew the basics of how the thing worked.

And it worked splendidly, by the way.

Especially for thin little pieces like this:

It has been an interesting few days around here. We - myself and Sue, my partner in crime - have tiled about 300 square feet of floor space (resulting in both of us feeling like we've been hit by a semi) and the process has taught us many things which must be retained if we are to ever take on another home improvement project.

Um. I keep typing "we" like Sue lives here, but she doesn't. She does help me a lot while Steve is traveling, though, and after this latest project I have to keep telling her what a gem she is or she'll never ever help me again.

No seriously, she's awesome. I adore her.

Fortunately for me, she's quite adventurous when it comes to the DIY home improvement stuff.

Anyway.

Here are a few valuable lessons we learned this week, in no particular order:

1. Buy more supplies than you think you could ever possibly need. The hardware store will allow you to return any unopened containers. I measured the space a bazillion times. I was sure three buckets of pre-mixed mortar would be enough to cover it, so I bought four just for good measure. We ended up using all four buckets and then had to mix up more from some leftover powdered mix I (thank God) happened to have for the last seven or eight tiles. That was a close one.
2. Be prepared with all the tools the books tell you you might need. Don't go all "what the heck would we need that for?" Just trust me on this. And those workshops they offer at Home Depot? Attend them. Seriously. We did, and the hands-on experience was invaluable.
3. Eat a good breakfast before you start, and have plenty of caffeine of some sort handy, and water to keep you hydrated.
4. Also keep handy your favorite pain meds. Take some before you start. Take another dose as soon as you can. Lather, rinse, repeat. Unless you are a triathlete or do some sort of physical labor for your regular job you'll want to trust me on this one, too.
5. Have a plan for the kids and animals. My kids are old enough to make something for themselves for dinner while I was busy, but not quite old enough to be truly helpful with laying tile. Since our house has an open floor plan and the tile couldn't be walked on right away, I put the kids to work creating barricades to keep the dog out of that room. They had fun with it and did a great job. (Speaking of the dog ... last night when I opened the front door to take some tiles outside to cut with the wet saw, Ladybug shimmied right past me out the door, bolted out into the woods behind the house and didn't come back all night. She finally showed up this morning around 10:45. *sigh* I may be asking Sue to help me install a fence in the back yard next.) Oh, and on the subject of animals, cats don't like wet mortar on their paws. FYI.
6. Perfection isn't necessary. Strive for "95 percent of people won't notice this imperfection and I don't care about the other 5 percent." If I had sought perfection on this particular job I a) wouldn't have done it myself, and b) would have been thoroughly disappointed. As far as I'm concerned this floor looks great. Is it perfect? No way. But it has character, and I can certainly appreciate that.
7. Pick the right person or people to help. Friends who can take some ribbing and who can be encouraging even after you royally screw something up are important. We had a huge job to accomplish, but Sue and I had fun along the way and I will forever be grateful for the help. And we're still friends, so we must have done something right!

It's spring break now for the kids so next week the three of us will be heading to Pennsylvania to spend some time with Steve. Sue and I will tackle the final step on the floor - grout - when I get home.

Then I'll wait a few days before I ask her about helping with that backyard fence.

In the meantime, my least favorite part of home improvement projects: cleanup. Ack.

She's got it made.

Oh, to have a dog's life. The household hound continues her daily routine of lying curled in a ball on the couch, grabbing a bite of kibble, nosing my arm to alert me it's time to go potty, all blissfully unaware that her world is about to change in a big way.

Once Steve leaves I expect it will take several days for Ladybug to realize daddy is not coming back for a while. That means several days of me keeping the drapes pulled anytime she is awake so she doesn't sit staring longingly out the window and whining, watching for his truck. It means she will sniff the children relentlessly when they get home from school in her own way of asking if perhaps they have forgotten someone outside. I suspect she will sit next to me in the evenings with a look in her eyes as if to say "what have you done with him?"

The cats won't care. As long as they are fed and petted and talked to occasionally (or not, depending on their moods) they will be happy. The dog? She'll take some time to settle into a new routine minus one of her humans, but eventually she will. The real question is, how long will it take the rest of us?