Tire Swings & Pretty Things: the adventure

Time: 6 am
Scene: Mr. Man snoring.
   Still dark outside.
   Punk Pup still in kennel.
   I, however, am bug-eyed from the noises I just heard coming from the utility room.
Time: 6:15
Scene: Punk Pup stirs. I hear him. A different sounds from the ones I heard 15 minutes prior.
   I decide it's possible someone is in our house. How? Who knows.
   But those are weird bumping-around sounds.
   Mr. Man gets pinched.
   And doesn't stir.
   So he gets pinched again. And doesn't stir.
   And gets pinched again, and says "hu". I say "sh." He says "wha". I say SHH!
   He doesn't get the hint to whisper. Because by now I am sure there is someone in our house.
Mr. Man: "What Babe."
Me: Do you hear that?
M.M: What.
Me: Those sounds.
M.M: It's the dog.
[aside: Mr. Man assumes everything is the dog when he's half asleep. Any movement, any sounds, anything. 2 nights ago, I got into bed late. He's says: "Get down. Off. No."]
Me: It's not the dog.
[sound happens again]
Me: That!
M.M: It's the dog.
Me: No. It's not.
M.M: Do you want me to go get him?
Me: Yes. Be careful. Bring your phone. [like that'll hurt someone]
M.M: Good gracious.

He proceeds to get up, let the puppy out. As per everyday schedule, Punk Pup then proceeds to leap into bed & give me good morning kisses, waiting til I raise the covers so he can take over Mr. Man's spot (that goes over well on Saturdays...). Then he usually gives me a couple serious dutch ovens (if you don't know what that is, it's probably better) and takes his early-morning nap (to be proceeded by 7 more naps during the day & conveniently no evening naps...when everyone else is tired).

All that to not-so-concisely say, nothing was wrong.
Til Mr. Man went to brush his teeth. And turned the faucet. And nothing. Take 2: try hot water. Nothing.

M.M.: Babe we have no water.
Me: No what?
M.M: Water.
[I shot up in defense.]
Me: I printed off the receipt. I payed the bill early, just like always.
[I went to the computer to show him]
M.M: I have no doubt.
[I'm a little neurotic about paying bills early.]
M.M: I don't think it's that.

I get out of bed. Call the water people. They don't tell us what's wrong. But we're "in the system".
I get into bed. Cuddle with Pup. Take a 24 second snooze.
Door bell rings
I get out of bed, scrambling to clothe myself appropriately. Punk Pup is going zany. His jowls are flopping as he barks and runs and runs and barks.
I open the door. To the water men. Who look terrified of our sweet little puppy. Or maybe my outfit. Or my hair.
They fiddle around outside. And I hear my toilet flush, while I'm in my living room. Weird. They fiddle more. The toilet stops running. They fiddle more. Tell me to check. And miracle of all mircles, it's on!

The sounds: my water pipes messing up.
Moral: I am not loopy or paranoid.

Ok, tomorrow, really, you'll get documentation of my alleged snow day pretties. I envy your forgiveness.

But today, you can have the documentation of Punk Pup cleaning up after our morning moments of chaos

Love to play while I help!

who needs a dog dish.

this is how I roll

take 1

take 2:
read: sometimes we mistake our lips for our food.

slurp.

I was much obliged, Mom

of unlikely items becoming jewelry:

I love working with my hands. Creating something out of nothing. Experiencing a piece of someone bigger than I.

I am embarking on a scary adventure. I have never been one to do something unsafe. To dream unsafely. To actually pursue an unsafe dream. And to risk putting a piece of myself out there through my creations, which really are a piece of yourself, at the risk of being unwanted.

But I have decided it's worth it. I love to create; it's such a deep part of me, as I'm sure all creator's feel.
I find so much healing and rest in this, that it's worth it.
So Mr. Man and I have decided that creativity needs to become a common thing in our world. It needs to be a regular occurrence. And in order for that to happen, I have to take the risk of selling my stuff. Putting my stuff out there at the risk of someone looking at it objectively. Or without care and appreciation. Like I so often do to other people's stuff.

I have to sell stuff so I don't become a hoarder. And so my created stuff can actually survive (avoiding Punk Pup's digestive system).

So here's a peek into some of my first projects that are going to be on sale in some way shape or form- I'll let ya know when and where.