Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The Neverending Remodel

The outside portion of our restoration project is about done. Now that I have new siding and windows, I am thinking that my roof looks kind of shabby. It never stops. A new roof is not in my remodel budget this time around. Maybe in a couple years, or after a good hailstorm, we can replace it a la Allstate ;-)
Also, we need to landscape a bit now that we have a house worth landscaping. If I can just keep the goat from eating said landscaping, and keep the dogs from dragging random carcass portions into my yard...then maybe Dammit Farm won't look so much like a redneck hell. I am aiming for the stars, I tell ya.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Sentimental Hoarding

The boys dug this squished ball out of the "dog toy basket". "Mom, there's something wrong with this ball. We need to throw it in trash." I was distracted, cleaning up the dinner mess, when I caught the black and white mush in my peripheral vision. "No! Don't throw that away." My kids were baffled. I love throwing things away. I have been known to chuck small toys that have crossed my path one too many times. (I'm very sorry about your hat and left arm, Mr. Potatohead, but I was having a bad day.)
"Why?" they asked me.
Then, for whatever reason, something that I hadn't cried about for a very long time came roaring back. I tried to hold down the tears, but couldn't. Looking at that ball reminded me of my sweet friend, who I had not seen in about eight years. Our coonhound had suddenly died of bloat while were on vacation. He was only three. It was an especially sudden, and painful loss. I never got to say goodbye to him. I grieved hard for that animal.  Clyde was ill-mannered, mildly destructive, but so there was a peacefulness to his soul. He was such a large, and noisy presence, that the silence he left in his absence was hard to bear. I have spent years filling my life with noise via other animals, and children, but I still miss him.
"You can't throw it away because it was Clyde's. It belonged to my dog that died."
"Why are you crying, Mommy!?" Asked my four year old.
"I'm crying because I miss my dog."
Then little hands were patting me. "Jules will be your friend, mommy."
"I know guys. She is my friend."
I pulled it together, put the ball back in they toy basket, and changed the subject. "Do you boys want to take a bath?"  I didn't want to upset them, but even more I did NOT want to entertain any conversation about life and death with them. I've had to before, and it's not fun.  For days after the mention of death I have to answer questions like "Do potato chips die when you eat them?" Not even joking.

Who are those kids? Jason, Jules, Clyde and I in the good old days. This picture isn't that old (about ten years) just happens to be black and white.

My PSA for this post. Here is tidbit on bloat that I find informative. It can't always be prevented, but there are steps one can take that can decrease the risk.