Mom is feeling pretty overwhelmed with the onset of festival seasons and the number of visitors she’s got arriving this week, so she asked me to step in for her for a spell. Truth is she can’t afford my services on the regular, which is why you haven’t seen me blog in some time, but I gave her a reduced rate today because I was feeling charitable (and she offered to cook me cabbage and Brussels sprouts, my two absolute favorites).
I mean, life here in the Tennessee boonies is pretty hectic as you might expect; we’ve been working on a pretty major home renovation, and of course they tapped me to offer design consultation while sourcing tile from Mission Stone & Tile in Nashville. I mean, obviously.
You don’t make these life-altering decisions without my paw of approval.
You also wouldn’t believe the number of woodland creatures I have to terrorize on the regular. It’s like a damn Disney movie up in here.
Minus the singing; I don’t do chipper.
But lately, we’ve had more than just woodland creatures visit the premises. Last month, Mom brought not one but TWO Spaniels home with her—and I was none too happy about it.
Luckily, Murphy’s mom came back after the weekend, and I was just left with Sophie, a foster dog who left clumps of fur and a trail of feces around the house in her wake. She was cute, I guess, but I wasn’t displeased to see her find a furever home two weeks later.
I also got a new cousin this past week. Her name is Charleston “Charlee” Lyn, and she’s something they call a golden doodle.
I was pretty disinterested in her, but my Aunt Kari seems a tad bit excited, so I guess I’ll pretend to be happy about. For her sake, of course.
This weekend, one of the few canine pals I actually care to tolerate decided to come to the country for the weekend while his parents were away in New Orleans. You probably remember Maximus from our follies in Percy Warner Park. He’s about my size, a few pounds heavier, a couple years older.
He’s also a happy-go-lucky sort of chap. Me? I’m neither of those things.
Still, I figured since you’ve read this far and are clearly interested in my whereabouts, I’d regale you with a recap of our weekend follies.
His and her naps. I won’t point fingers, but you can tell who wears the pants in this relationship based on the choice of beds alone.
Move over! This is my side of the eight-foot-long couch. You’re hogging it all.
Max on high alert for the spirits in the attic. I may have told him this old house is haunted. Oops. Hey, I may be cute but I never claimed to be nice.
No, Max; I don’t want to play. I haven’t even had my morning coffee.
Oh, outside is involved? In that case…
Now we’re talking. Though I’m still going to pretend you only exist part of the time.
Max is cool and all, but full-time, I’m pretty sure being only dog suits me.
Call a spade a spade—or a diva a diva—but it is what it is: This house ain’t big enough for two of us.
Ella, so good to hear from you again Dahhling! Simply adore the tile you selected! So good of you to help mom out in her time of need, with you being so busy already! How lucky is mom that you own her?! Kudos Dear!
Beautiful and quite, quite charming. I love you Ella!
Good question Ed. We are a sleiuppr and don’t do the roofing work. However, after 64 years in the business, we certainly know the good contractors, and are happy to refer them. Just email, phone, or drop by either store. Talk to one of our sales staff, and they’ll be happy to refer someone to address your situation. This way you can be sure you will get someone who will do the job right. Thank you!