Who I know has a house filled with guests. But, on the off chance she takes some time for herself, this is something I know would make her laugh.
High Cotton is a firm that I first heard about when I ordered Hubby an outside doormat for his shop. It started out as a joke....I read it out loud, he laughed, I said his customers might be offended, he said it was funny. So of course I ordered it. His customers step in the door to be greeted with...
It was so popular that when it wore out, the "guys" wanted a new one. So I got another one just like it and a "warning" one for outside the shop. You see, our lovable dog Boudreaux, known as Bou, is 110 pounds of enthusiastic Chocolate Lab with a tail that's spring loaded. He may be 7 years old but he acts like a puppy and that's the happiest, tail wagging dog I've ever seen. Which is great, unless you're a male person standing still when Bou marches past, wagging. So I got another mat which reads...
The guys laugh hysterically.
Until Bou wags his tail.
High Cotton has door mats, signs, t-shirts...lots of stuff. I laughed so hard Hubby came to see what in heaven's name I was doing. Here's just a sample.
Go check them out...if nothing else, laughing's good for you.
UPDATE: This is merely a TASTE of what these folks have to offer...let's just say I went the "family friendly" route here. If you need a good laugh, you really need to visit their site.
Sometimes a vacation is just that...vacating the space where you work 40 hours a week. This one was a reward to myself.
I've worked for the same employer for so long, I earn 3 weeks of vacation a year. Then one day you arrive at a point where if you don't use it, you lose it. Considering the pay scale, (and not even a cost of living raise for the last 2, and probably 3, years) I'm not giving ANYTHING back. Before anyone reprimands me with the, "Be thankful to have a job in this economy" speech, you should know I took a vacation because I feared I might say to my employer, "And you should be damned glad to have me doing said job!"
Today marks my 24th year with said employer. Not that they noticed, but I did....and a week away seemed like a good idea. :)
So here's what Hubby and I have been up to, as Bou sits on the sidelines um...supervising. When he's not snoring.
First we started by painting the living room...it went from a kinda pale yellow to something more like a blush color. Repeat after me, "It is not pink!" which is what Hubby yelled when I told his Mom on the phone it had a blush tint to it.
This is looking toward the front door,
which is on the right, out of camera range.
You can click on any photo to enlarge it.
The blinds aren't quite as see-through as they appear:
from the inside yes, from the outside...NO.
Turning left lets you see the propane log fireplace and through those windows, Hubby's shop can be seen...the better to view customers driving up early.
Hubby re-did the hardwood floors himself...not sure who was prouder, him or me. Not only do they look wonderful,
they're great for she who was diagnosed with asthma.
Which is also why the curtains were replaced with the bamboo blinds.
And no, that's not a stripe of white paint on the wall, it's....
the reflection off this cabinet in the corner.
As you can probably tell, I love antiques!
The collection of kerosene lanterns on the fireplace
is a fraction of the entire collection.
The tall cabinet with the clock atop is filled with antiques:
bottles, old cameras, Indian arrowheads and pottery,
old fishing lures and Hubby's Grandpa's knife.
In the background is the guest bedroom with
the chair I always called "The Swan Neck Rocker".
And for a good reason....the chair arms curl down and have a swan's head carved where they curl around, making the arms look like a swan's neck.
For those of you who love animals, I'm married to a hunter.
Having a deer and ducks on the wall doesn't bother me
(I tie bows on them at Christmas!)
but I decided to leave that wall out.
Besides, seen one t.v., you've seen them all.
On to the bathroom, which went from a pale blue to...
The white "door" on the wall reminds me of my grandmother's house....
"Memaw" had a half door going from her living room to the screened in front porch and it fascinated me as a child. I swore I'd always have one.
This is as close as I could get.
I didn't take any photos of it, but we also re-did the floor with a tile which looks like white marble. I can proudly say I laid all of them myself, while Hubby did the hard work of measuring/cutting those weird corners. You live in a house over 125 years old, nothing is flat or even.
And now on to the silly. Sometimes, you find an object in life that has little useful purpose but you purchase it for yourself...and it doesn't have to make sense to anyone else. All winter I drove by a small Farmer's Market style stand which doesn't open until Spring. And no matter what kind of mood I was in, every time I saw this little guy, I grinned. Then burst out laughing. I yearned to own one just like him.
So last week I stopped by the place, which was FINALLY open, and inquired how I might purchase one. The woman looked chagrined as she advised her husband had been ill all winter and hadn't made any more. I must've looked disappointed as I sheepishly told her how the little guy had made me laugh when life wasn't funny. She asked if I would be interested in HIM, as if she feared offending me...after all, she deemed he needed a new paint job. My enthusiastic nodding made her run for her husband (and this was not a young couple!) to ask. He came in and was so surprised that I was serious, that he went outside and plucked this little guy up for me. The man was grinning ear to ear and so was I....perhaps the wife thought we were both a little nuts.
Meet Chicken George, as I've dubbed him.
(The name is a long story).
He has purple re-bar legs, a hot pink pitch fork body, a bright yellow beak made from a tooth of a hay cutter, 2 white nuts for eyes and a green comb made from part of a hay rake.
He's just plain funny.
And an hour after I took this,
Hubby was teaching our 11 year old nephew,
(an only child whose father has been working too much),
how to drive the golf cart.
Nephew finally hit the brakes....
but not until he ran over Chicken George
to land against the fig tree.
Hubby is a patient man.
Very patient...considering he already has a broken rib.
He informed the nephew that HE would have to tell me what happened.
The gist was that Chicken George had a bad day.
And I got an extra LARGE hug before nephew and Mom left.
Hubby's gonna have George welded where needed but for now,
I hear George is looking like Alfalfa from "The Little Rascals"
(And if you're not from around here, google that one just to see
Something about May brings out the, "When's the last time we painted this room?" feeling.
We painted the living room and bathroom on Sunday. Re-tiled the bathroom floor on Monday. Hubby had to go back to work but since his shop is behind our house, he keeps coming back in to help when he can.
Tonight we hang new blinds in the living room. Til then, it's laundry for me.
I'll be back. A girl can only work so much during her time off.
Each of us yearns to do something in life that perhaps we just can't explain in a way that everyone will understand. For Dan, that would be to hug a monkey.
No, I don't know why. But I think it's sweet....as long as he stays away from the chimps who've grown up showing a new aversion to the human who raised them. No one needs their face rearranged by wild instinct.
In Dan's honor, here's a link where you can help feed primates who were once loved, then tossed aside. The reasons are often unknown, but I suspect it's because they'd passed the "cute" stage. Care2 allows you to aid many worthy causes: all you have to do is click on the link and corporations will donate for you.
So Dan, this monkey's for you. I call him Uncle George.
The day our world changed forever, a.k.a. 9/11, I was home with the flu. I was miserable, I couldn't breathe and I thought it was the worst day ever. I was in the bathroom when Hubby yelled, "Come here now!" I thought that was an odd way to treat an ill spouse but I complied because when you've been married a long time, you learn to hear the tone over the words. This tone I'd never heard before.
Sinking to the couch in disbelief I watched the instant replay of the plane hitting the first tower. When Hubby finally ran for a restroom break, the 2nd plane hit. I couldn't breathe at all...whether because I was holding my breath or the slowly dawning comprehension had taken it away. All I knew was that life had changed. Forever.
And for the next month, every time I closed my eyes to sleep, I'd see his him. Osama bin Laden. That elongated face, made even longer by the moss like beard. That cold stare which implied we were less than insects needing to be swatted. It took months to erase that face from being the first thing my mind's eye saw when I laid down at night.
Which is why today, I have absolutely no interest in seeing "the proof". I do not want the image of a dead bin Laden, complete with hole in his head, to take up any space in my mine. I finally evicted him and he's not coming back for re-runs.
Maybe it's genetic. I've noticed that most of the comments from women concerning bin Laden's death are tinged with something akin to sadness that death was the only perceived answer, laced with a trace of unspoken fear. Men have had no problem screaming from the rafters that they're glad the (insert impolite phrase of your choosing here) is gone and that he got what he deserved.
Women, while admitting relief that the man is no longer on the planet, seem to back away from actually applauding his death. It feels like a morally incorrect oxymoron to tell people not to kill...unless you're killing a killer. Perhaps because women have always assumed the role of nurturer, we want children to understand that an "eye for an eye" may just leave both parties blind.
While we understand he's gone, there's a little voice whispering in our heads that there's always some Mr. Evil Wannabe willing to step to the front and continue the program. And personally, I don't want my country to encourage that by "showing proof".
For once I hope America's powers that be take the high road. They're off to a good start. The burial at sea, which honored the customs of true Muslims, set a better example than turning that death into a side show worthy of P.T. Barnum, complete with exhibiting a dead body.
We don't parade the heads of our enemies through the village on a stick any more. Hopefully we've progressed as a society enough not to need a photo of a dead man constantly shoved in our faces to prove he's gone. I hope cooler heads prevail by focusing on the future of mankind. ALL mankind.
I didn't need moon dust sprinkled on my head to believe that man had walked on the moon. Neither do I want a single photo to become a new battle of "Them vs Us", destroying what progress we've made as human beings. Sometimes it really does take a bigger man to walk away rather than take the first swing to start a new fight.
Personally, I'd be happy to close my eyes at night without having a new vision of horror taking up space in my head. Besides, I've got better things to think about...like dreaming how to make tomorrow a better day.