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Bad dog = tree eater

1 May

So yeah….


Bad dog = Chair upgrades

26 Apr

Scene: the house is quiet. Stockton and I have both finished eating (a Mexican feast) and are attending to various responsibilities, mine involving my boobs and a certain hungry baby, his involving emptying the trash.  The remains of a delicious meal are still on our counter, waiting to be cleaned up (safe out of reach of mischievous hands paws). 

I could probably stop the whole story there and you’d be able to figure out what happened, but then I wouldn’t be able to accost you with all of the most insipid details of this tragedy. And so, I shall continue.

As I was nursing, shhshing, and generally trying to lull the baby into a deep, fitless sleep (which was totally for naught because I think I was probably up and down the stairs a minimum of 15 times last night to tend to a cantankerous baby, and I am NOT EXAGGERATING THIS TIME I TOTALLY SWEARS IT), I hear a loud crash that led me to believe there were probably shards of extremely sharp matter all over my kitchen floor.  I, assuming Stockton was in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes, remained calm and continued my “you are getting verrrrrry sleeeppyyyy” routine.  I figured, yes, something probably broke, but Stockton is staying quiet about it and taking care of it since he knows I’m topless and unable to assist him in a disaster clean-up right now. However, I did find it suspicious that if, in fact, Stockton was the one who broke the allegedly now-broken, sharp, once-fragile item, there was no screaming and cussing coming from the kitchen.  Likewise, if it was the dogs’ doing, there would’ve been screaming and cussing too.  Not from the dogs, because they don’t typically scream or cuss, because they have excellent composure under pressure like that, but from a very pissed-off Stockton.  So to not hear any screaming and cussing was a tad disconcerting to me. (Note: I would like to point out here that Stockton is not a big cusser or screamer, but when there is a crisis involving broken glass and messes and bad dogs and the like, he knows how to let it fly like the best of them).

About 5 minutes later, my fears were confirmed when I heard Stockton come into the house from the garage, followed by a very un-tempered and passionate “SON OF A BITCH!!” pretty much confirming that, yep. Wally has struck again.  And it’s prooooobably pretty bad.

Finished baby duties hurriedly (probably, in hind sight, what had my kid so pissed off that he decided to make the rest of my night hell) and ran downstairs to find Stockton standing there, hands on head, assessing the damage, and breathing uneasily slowly (I would imagine that was his way of his diaphragm telling his brain “Do not kill him. Do not kill him.”).

As it turns out, Wally had gotten his dirty freaking paws up ON OUR COUNTER (which is generally an off-limits surface for him, though I feel that this is a detail I really shouldn’t have to explain) and had knocked over a FULL and BRAND NEW glass jar of very red, very stain-y salsa. All over the floor and our white barstools. Aweesoommmeeeee.

Unnecessarily long story, short: the dog ruined my chair and as such, it got a pretty makeover today!!

So here is the before shot of our bland barstools (giving you the broad view so you can take in the intensity of the green walls… they aren’t messing around):

Since the walls are SO INCREDIBLY GREEN WHOA I decided to just work with it and, thus, it’s become kind of a theme in the kitchen. Embrace the green and all. So here is the After picture of the newly made-over chairs, which luckily no longer look like a bloody siege occurred on them.

Totally a bold choice, I realize. I love the fabric, though, and because it has the creamy undertones, I decided to keep my kitchen table chairs in their regular vanilla color, which I prefer for a few reasons. 1) A whole kitchen in this pattern would be slightly “Hey, didja get a discount on 100 yards of the same fabric or something?” and also 2) I like to play around too much with table linens and if I used this on my kitchen chairs, I think it would limit my flexibility with that too much.  So I might make a table runner with some of what’s leftover, or a valence/roman shade for the laundry room which I’ve been meaning to do forever with the hopes that a nice window treatment might make my laundry routine a bit more inspired. No? That’s not how it works? Oh well, I’m gonna have to find SOMETHING to do with the extra 99 yards of that fabric I bought. Kidding. Sort of. I only have 98 left.

My furniture is not a jungle gym, WALLY

26 Apr

This is why I can’t have nice things.



UPDATE: this.

My dogs are trying to kill me