The Best Dog

Today is a sad day in the house of Utter Chaos. Our beloved Timmy has left us to go to his final resting place. There was never a better dog on this earth than my Timmy.

Timmy came to us as a puppy. I still remember the first time we saw him, curled up next to his mom (a Springer Spaniel). He was tiny, very quiet, and sweet. He had been named named him Poochie, but that name didn't stick. I have to admit, I thought naming him Timmy was weird, but we got him for the kids, and Jill named him Timothy -- Timmy for short. He didn't stay tiny for long, and his heart was as big as the rest of him.

Timmy had a penchant for food, and for running. He once chewed the entire lining out of my church coat, just to get to the one Hershey kiss contained therein. It was not unusual for him to help himself to any kind of food lying around, whether it was a steak, a cake, or his favorite -- chocolate. It didn't take me long to figure out the dosage of Pepto Bismol for a dog his age. We used it frequently.

Timmy ran away more times than I could count, but it wasn't to get away. It was to socialize. He would go flying out of the yard and be gone before you could catch him, only to come wandering back 10 or 12 hours later. At that point, he would flop down in front of the fireplace (he was allergic to our carpet) and sleep for several hours. I never knew what he did on those days off, but he sure seemed to enjoy himself.

One time, Timmy took off, and it was several hours before anyone realized he was gone. (This is a busy house and we simply missed it.) That night, he didn't come back, and I was worried sick. Next morning, we got a call from someone who said they had him. We got to their house, only to be told that yes, they had him, but he had taken off that morning. And oh, by the way, "he is the best dog." Yes, he was. The next day, the exact same thing happened -- he had wandered up to someone, they called, and he was gone before we arrived to get him. "And oh, by the way, he is the best dog!" Yes, he was. This went on for four days, till he finally was nabbed and taken, of all things, to our vet. Fortunately they recognized him, called us, and we got him back. After that, he got microchipped.

Twice he escaped and was taken to the Humane Society. The first time, we called to see if by chance he was there, figuring there was no way, because he hadn't been gone much more than an hour, and the Humane Society is 45 minutes away. They told us that they didn't think he was there, but we were welcome to come and look to verify this. We walked into the Found pets area where most people never go, and a caucophony of dog barking hit us like a wave. Somehow, in all that noise, Jill said she heard Timmy. I thought she was crazy, but I should've known better. I followed her as she quickly went through the rooms and straight to Timmy, who stood there wagging his tail like we had just gotten home. How Jill did that, I will never know.

Another time, I took the kids to Michigan while Dan stayed behind, working on a job at our church that required the BIG ladders. I was freaked out when he would call and tell me how high up he was, and what the view was like, so I just left town till he was done. I'm not sure how it happened, but Timmy got loose. I'm not even sure that Dan realized he was loose until he came trotting up to him at the church, wagging his tail like he hadn't seen him in days. I have no idea how Timmy was able to do that, because he had to walk about a mile, crossing two VERY busystreets in the process, but nothing was going to keep him from his family -- even if there was only one of us in town.

Timmy travelled well, so he went to St. Louis, Florida, and on several camping trips with us. He loved to ride with his nose out the window, and he loved being outside. It wasn't uncommon for him to lay in the front yard while I worked in my flower garden, only to stand up and stare whenever anyone walked by. He didn't usually approach them, but he did want them to know he was there.

As the years went on, he slowed down some, but what 14 year old dog doesn't? He could still chase a squirrel with the best of them, though. He was as deaf as a post in recent months, but would still come to the kitchen when the other dogs were getting treats. He was active and happy, hanging with his buddy Boo. Then suddenly last night, he took a turn for the worse, and the only real option was to put him to sleep, or he would linger in pain until the end. None of us wanted that. All four of us sat with him for a long time, stroking his fur while he slept on his blanket. They had sedated him just enough to relax him, and I was concerned that I wouldn't get to say a proper goodbye, but just before the final injection, he lifted his head and looked right at me. He was very drowsy, but he knew, and I know that he was saying goodbye. We all sobbed as he left us, knowing that there will never be another dog like him.

I will miss him terribly. There is a hole in my heart the size of a German Shepherd-Springer Spaniel, and nothing will ever fill it. But I do know that Timmy was the best dog, that he had a happy life, and that he was loved. And isn't that what it's all about?

RIP Timmy Utter. I love you.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho

So, since the man has departed the abode, I am left to do the fixer-uppin. I'm rather enjoying it, quite frankly. I've been working at painting every surface I can, because when I really looked around here, it was pretty wonky.

The living room is blue, but the entryway was never painted to match, s it's tan, with remainders of the old border still in there. The dining room was cranberry, but was painted tan a couple of years ago -- but the hallway still had one wall that is cranberry. The kitchen was painted green around the same time the dining room was, but the back hallway was still the original yellow the kitchen had been.

In short, my eyes were burning.

The outside of the house was painted blue a couple of years ago. It's always been blue, and I've never been enthralled with it. I decided to paint it as well, but when I did a walkaround, figuring that there would be minimal prep (since it was just painted by the man, and he's a painter), I found that there was exposed wood on the back porch that was peeling the paint, because it was never primed underneath, and worse yet, there is all kind of rotting siding on the sunroom.

I may've said a bad word or three.

So a couple of weekends ago, we ripped out the rotten stuff, which left exposed insulation which, oddly, had been installed backward. ::sigh:: Did I mention that this whole thing has been a learning experience? So a friend of a friend told me what I needed to do to make it right, and I went to Lowe's to get the stuff. Side note: the people at Lowe's are VERY helpful to the clueless.
So I bought this styrofoam-y sheathing that was maybe 8 feet long and 3/4" thick, without thinking about the fact that OH! I have a Toyota Camry. Not a van. This was gonna be an interesting trip home.

Luckily, I had bought some rope for a clothesline at the same time, so I thought I had it in the bag. I found out I was wrong, when I went out the doors of Lowe's and the wind gusted. I was pushing a cart, while carrying the sheathing in my left hand. The wind caught underneath it, it flew up like a sail, and almost took off to parts unknown. I couldn't grab it quickly enough because of the cart, so I struggled to get the whole thing under control without losing my cart into traffic. A couple of Latino men were crossing the parking lot, and one headed toward me, presumably to help. It was at that point that the styrofoam snapped. The Latino man looked rather crestfallen, as if to say "oh man, you just broke it BAD," but I just laughed and said "oh well, I can still use it and maybe it will fit into my car." He just looked at me like I was nuts.

So I got to the car and tied the sheathing on the top. This was no easy feat either, since I was alone and the wind was gusting like mad. It threatened to fly off a couple of times, and I think more than one Lowe's customer was amused, watching my antics. I finally got it tied down and headed home. Slowly. Not on the interstate. I realized a couple of blocks down the road that the car behind me was WAY behind me, as in, maybe trying to avoid me distance, so I stopped at the gas station on the next corner. Said car ended up following me in and drove by me very slowly, looking at me once again like I was crazy.

Sure enough, it was loose and threatening to fly off, so I tied it down, this time more securely, and headed off again. The same thing happened: the too distant car behind me, and a stop a couple of blocks away. This time I found that the sheathing was tied down better but was still loose, and the rope was now digging into it, causing long grooves to be cut into the side.

I wasn't going to be able to tie it down any better by myself, and I had nothing to lose, so I took it down -- it almost flew away again -- folded it into thirds, and shoved it into the back seat of my Camry.

When I got home, the wind had died down. I never saw another gust like the ones working against me, but it didn't matter. I won. And you know what? That busted up, groove filled sheathing is firmly ensconced in the side of my house, and it looks just fine.

Wind=0. Lisa=1. I win.

Riding in Cars with Boys

So, I went there and back again today. I had to make a run to Chicago to pick up some cabinets. They wouldn't fit in my car, of course, so I rented a cargo van to do it. You know, one of those serial killer vans? Well, I had to take Seth and his buddy with me, so they could do the lifting, and wow, was that a treat.

I just love teenaged boys. They make the most interesting road trip companions.

First, they asked me if I had duct tape, because they wanted to duct tape their mouths and wrists and look out the back window frantically during the trip -- just to freak out the people behind us, and to confirm the serial killer aspect of the van. Ixnay on that one -- more because we didn't have duct tape than anything. I would've loved to have a picture of that. I feel fairly certain it would be Seth's Facebook profile picture shortly thereafter. The next thing you know, CPS and/or the FBI would be knocking on my door, so maybe it wouldn't be a good idea after all.

On the way there, they mostly did nerd things like Algebra 2, talking about cube roots, played chess, and slept. Boooooring! The trip home was a whole different matter.

There was one point at which Nick was playing with the radio, giving his commentary on the stations in a word or three -- white noise, country, "Nope", white noise, female singer, "don't like you," white noise, rap, "uh-uh", white noise, more singing, "boring", white noise, male singer, "you can't sing," white noise, rap, "no way," white noise, more music..........you get the drift. I can't remember exactly what he ended up leaving it on, because I was more interested in the commentary than the actual music.

I had mentioned to the boys that they had missed all of the huge windmill-wind-energy-thingies on the way up there, so Seth asked me to be sure to point them out on the way home. Like you can miss the things -- they are HUGE, and there are dozens of them. It looks to me like something out of War of the Worlds, and quite frankly, they are a little creepy. Well, Seth was zonked when we got to them on the way home, so I poked him, and got a "huh?" I told him the windmills were in front of him. He said "neat," stared into space for a minute, and was out again. A few minutes later, I decided to poke him again, because we were close enough to see how big they were. "Huh?" "Windmills." "Neat." Stare into space. Zonked.

I don't think he remembers seeing them now. I'm not even sure he did, because he looked messed up.

About half an hour later, the cabinets I picked up were rattling to beat the band, and I do mean it was LOUD. I jokingly told Nick to quit messing with them, at which point he half-yelled "there was a spider, and it was huge, and I hate spiders." I asked where said spider was. He looked at me like I was nuts, and told me he'd killed it dead. This turned into an interesting discussion about spider heaven. 16 year old little philosophers they are.

A little while later, Seth looked out the window, and I heard him say "COOL!" I asked him what, and he turned and looked at me with some kind of giddy and said "have you ever moved your Adam's apple up and down while looking in the mirror? It's amazing!" Somehow I don't think MY Adam's apple would be amazing, but whatever floats your boat, brother. It kept the boy entertained, that's all I've got to say.

And of course, when I pulled into the CVS drive-thru, Einstein and his buddy asked what I was doing. "Picking up my drugs," said I, to which they both responded "cocaine, or weed?"

I need to start drinking.

The Five Things

My computer nerd co-worker told me that his father told him at their wedding reception that there are five things you need to do in order to keep your marriage intact in times of, shall we say, discourse? I think that he is pretty spot on with his suggestions.

Here they go. In case of a disagreement, the man of the house is to immediately say these five things, preferably in order:

1. Please forgive me.
2. You were right, I was wrong.
3. It will never happen again.
4. I don't know what came over me.
5. I love you very much.

I have, of course, made my co-worker repeat all of these things to me any time that he disagrees with me which, of course is often, given his viewpoint of functionality vs pretty with our software, and my completely opposite view -- it's not gonna function well, unless things are cleaned up and pretty. I do, however, modify the last one a bit, since him telling me he loves me is just plain wrong, since he is very happily married. Instead, we have substituted it with "I have a deep and abiding respect for you and your position."

Repeat as necessary. And please note, there is no version for the female to use. As we know the man is always wrong. Right?

The Grapes of Seth

This son 'o mine never fails to crack me up.

I came home from a night of treadmilling, and Seth came bursting into the kitchen sliding sideways past me. "Do we have any grapes? I need a grape," he said, as he opened the refrigerator door. I told him I was fairly sure that we did not have grapes. I was actually QUITE sure that we didn't have any grapes, but that didn't stop him from frantically rifling the fridge, nonetheless, after which he turned to me and said "do we have a candle? I need a candle."

I reminded him that candles require fire to be of any use, and that Seth and fire stopped being a good idea like..........well, never. He kept badgering me frantically about a candle, and he went gliding -- no joke -- into the living room to get one. He came back into the kitchen asking whether we had a lighter. I pointed out that any lighters we had likely went out the door with his father, and I doubted there was one here. I told him to use a piece of spaghetti, which is the way I always light candles. He asked about that "clicky thing we use to light the fireplace," and I directed him to where it was.

I seemed to be having a problem getting an explanation as to why he needed the non-existent grape and a candle, when he informed me that he'd been watching "really interesting videos" on youtube. I asked if they involved things blowing up. He responded, "not exactly." So far this whole thing has not instilled confidence in my situation, and I barely had my jacket off.

So The Boy finds the candle, then comes in and lights it with said clicky lighter thing. Then blows OUT the candle. And semi-immediately clicks the lighter above the candle. The lighter lit. Like normal. Disappoinment on boy's face. The process was repeated. And repeated again. Each time, a sigh of disappointment. Finally after the fourth time, he pronounced that it didn't work. I asked him if he was supposed to be creating a fireball of death or what, and he responded, that no, the grape was supposed to kind of melt into a ball of protoplasm.

Except that he never found a grape. And I still have no idea where the grape was supposed to be put, since all he was doing was lighting a candle, blowing it out, and then clicking the lighter.

Sometimes I am fairly certain that Seth and I are not in the same orbit, but I want to be in his, because it is a very happy place where people are easily amused. Even without the grapes.

The Manly Man-Boy

So I discovered the other day that despite the fact that only two people live in this house now, there were EIGHT bottles of shampoo or conditioner in our shower. Eight. There are slightly less shower gel bottles -- four, to be exact. And one is a smaller one from a gift set that Thomas gave me, so let's call it 3 1/2.

Seth was a little concerned, however, at his lack of manly options. Apparently, as he says, he just didn't feel right showering with pink girly smelling shower gel. I pointed out that there was one bottle of manly Avon "Oak" that had perhaps an inch of stuff left in it, but he wanted to get something else the next time we went to the store.

So tonight, we went out into the night and went shopping at Kroger. When we got to the skin care aisle, he made a beeline to the manly smelling stuff which was, in typical teenaged boy fashion, Ax. I turned the corner to the next aisle while he was perusing his options, but heard him say something about "attraction." I asked him what the heck he was looking at, and he replied with "Dark Attraction." I pointed out the many ways of wrong that sounded to me. His reply was that "Dark Attraction doesn't exactly sound like something I want to be rubbing all over my body."

The boy has a point. I didn't even look to see what he put in the cart, but I can tell you two things: 1. It wasn't pink. 2. It was not Dark Attraction.

Man's best friend

Boo, our 7 year old mutt on Prozac, loves to eviscerate stuffed animals. Jill used to buy him toys at the DAV, just to let him gut them. He did, within minutes of them entering the house, and leaving the living room looking like a big cloud, with stuffing all over the place. He then carries the floppy carcass all over the house, and plays tug-o-war with anyone who will join in. Jill can even get him to play hide and seek with it. It's hilarious.

He hasn't gotten to do it much since The Brat left for school, but he has a new habit: pulling the batting out of my quilt. I have a quilt, not old, that is getting rather shredded from me bundling up in it. It's not a huge deal. Although I love that quilt, it was bought for cheap at Sears, and has now been relegated to covering the man-cave couch, in a desperate attempt to keep the dog hair at bay. Well, Boo has decided that it is his personal mission to remove the batting from inside every square inch of it with his teeth. It's quite something to watch, and he keeps at it, despite our admonitions to leave the darned thing alone.

So Thomas was over the other day, to watch football with Dan. Dan wasn't home yet, so the Heir to the Throne was sitting in the King's chair. Weird noises were coming from the couch, and we looked over to see Boo chewing on a piece of batting that he had stuck in his mouth. "What are you doing," said The Heir. Boo just looked at him and kept trying to get the stuff loose. It wasn't looking good. It was, as a matter of fact, looking more like he might barf on the couch, cause he just could not get it loose. "Not going too good for you, is it, Boo," said Thomas. Boo sat up and stuck his head near Thomas, with a look that said "I'm not too sure about this, dude." Thomas started laughing.

It was at that moment that Boo, formerly so terrified of him that he'd pee on the floor if Thomas even looked at him, gave him the ultimate gift: he dropped the whole slimy mess on Thomas' shirt. I swear he looked proud when he laid back down.