Can I Keep It?

Dirty Laundry

It seems every week, I am besieged by stinky t-shirts, muddy pants, hairy bedsheets and other various garments and such in varying states of cleanliness.  Cleanlessness?

The little kids are used to the hourly treks up and down the stairs.  Hauling yet another basket of filth to the laundry and delivering a fresh batch upstairs to retire to its nesting place, waiting for the next round of grime to cover it.  Boudreaux is perplexed by the contant trail of smelly goodness rendered sweet and uninviting by the washing machine.  He thinks they are far better worn than fresh.

Zali, however loves a load, warm from the dryer.  He used to make the many trips to and fro until of late.  Boudreaux, puppy still, inadvertently stepped on him and hurt one of Zali's knees.  I would climb the staircase, he would whine pitifully at the base.  Trapped by his floating kneecaps.

Then yesterday, it came to me.  Going up!  I swooped up Zali and plopped him on the warm, folded towels and carted him with me.

 

Problem solved! 

Zali gets a free ride to the top and I have one fewer trip back down to retrieve him.  No more tears!

Now if I can just figure out how to keep Boudreaux from mouthing all over the cat until she becomes a soggy blop of fur...

I'm not really sure there's an entry in the  manual for that.

Fiddy

Yesterday has come and past.  I am well into the second day of my fifty-first year.  That's right.  Yesterday was my fiftieth birthday.  The celebration of making through my fiftieth year on earth.

Yes, I wore my tiara.  Shut up!  If I can't wear it that day, when can I?  Okay, well I do have the tendency to slip in on every now and again to vacuum. 

Hud took me to the Beauty Shop in Cooper Young for lunch. 

We started with some guacamole.  Hud had the pasta special.  A succulent four cheese raviolli with artichoke hearts and spinach.  I know.  Hud.  Requesting artichoke hearts since I forced him at knifepoint to eat one in 1998.

I had the duck cobb salad.  Crispy duck, eggs, and other tasty vegetables served with Green Goddess dressing.  Devine.

The kids were on their best behavior.  Simone even snuggled up on one of the beds in the office with Boudreaux.  She's been cautious with Bou.  He's still a wreckless puppy with a tendency to smash things that land under his feet.  It was a milestone.

Later came Zali's favorite part of the day.  Presents and CAKE!  And my favorite, a lovely bottle of Proseco given to me on Sunday by my friend, Jamie Flowers in honor of my breaking the half century mark.

Simone helped me blow out the candle.  I think it was less of an effort to help than to get to the cake cutting. 

WhyIsThereAllDisStoopitSinging?There'sCAKEOnTheTable,Mommee!

I've always loved birthdays.  To the extent that, as a child, I still thought it was my birthday as long as there was cake left.  My poor parents had to drag out the candles and sing to me every night until it was gone.  And I was stingy with the portions.  I could make a cake drag out for a month.  Easy.

But this one was truly unique.  I feel like I've been celebrating all year. 

Thanks, Hud.  For making me feel so special. 

We'll always have Paris. 

Contestants' No. 1

Boudreaux, Boudreaux...Zali!

Someone's taking the piss out of me over here at the Hudarosa. 

Bou is fitting in so easily, it's as if he were ordered online with a five star rating.  He and Zoe are fast friends. 

Everytime they accompany me to the studio, it's a wrestling rink.  A real throwdown.  They like to play so rough, I have to send them out into the back yard.  Zali tries to get in on the action, but the play is so aggressive that he bows out and settles in to the bed with Simone.

Who hates all the rough housing.  She's tried to get them to come to a tea party.  Play dolls. Do each other's hair.  To no success at all.  Bou will do the butt in the air/elbows on the ground thing, trying to charm her.  Simone is not amused.  She yips and jumps into my arms.  It really pisses her off.

Ashull.

Zali has been desperately claiming all  of the corners of the yard.  He'll mark a brick flower bed.  Boudreaux will cover it.  Pissy, he drowns a flower pot.  Bou makes it his own.

That's right.  Zali and Boudreaux are having a pissing contest.

As long as you keep it outside, boys, Mom won't have to take the piss out of you.

And On the Next Episode of Hoarders...

Hud and I spent the gorgeous Sunday afternoon doing an event called Paws for a Cause at the Shops of Saddlecreek.  There were pet bakers, pet stores, pet accupuncturists, pet photographers, pet painters and of course, the rescue groups.

We were immediately to the right of the Greyhound Rescue Group.  Only they're aren't really rescues, more of a second chance group. 

All of these beauties were there with their parents.  The greyhounds are not well socialized when they are up for adoption.  They've spent a lot of time alone in a pen waiting to go to work, instead of romping in backyards with twelve year old boys.  The group brings only the adopted ones to show how they blossom when they get to know people.

Good Dog Rescue was there as well.  Oh! The small funny faces!

This little girl had me at hello.  But I resisted the temptation.

They told me this was the laziest terrier in the country.  He wouldn't even get up for dinner if he was napping.

You know, as the Furry Godmother, people love to talk to me about their animal friends.  And there were some real stories yesterday.  Tales of the worst and the best in people.

This is Gus, a six month old St. Bernard puppy.  He was ginormous.  And fluffy as a chick.  And sweet as candy.  And spent four months locked in a wooden crate in a garage.  An unwanted birthday gift, ignored and treated so badly, when Sam got him, he couldn't walk.  He crawled on his belly to her.

But she has nursed him back to health.  He seems to bear no scars from his ordeal.

Unlike Honeysuckle.

She was found after someone set her on fire.  She had been bred, but probably failed to produce winning fighters.  The pups probably all inherited her gentle nature. That's her girlfriend, Feather, being fed a cookie by their mom from Three Dog Bakery. 

I had run up to the restroom and on my return, I spotted a new pen at the Good Dog Rescue.  It was so much larger than the others. 

And then I saw his face.

I asked the young attractive woman why she had my dog in a cage. 

Kristi took him out and I fell like a rock.  All the discussions swirled around my brain.  Four dogs is plenty.  We'll wait until Carmen is gone.  No. More. Male. Dogs.  I told Kristi that I would send my husband up to meet him.  Explained about Carmen.  Tried to talk myself out of it.

Kristi pleaded her case.  Someone she knew had owned Ace and had to move.  She could not take him with her.  ( I hope it wasn't that, "Arizona doesn't take dogs" excuse the Humane Society gets all the time.)  So Kristi, who fosters for Good Dog, told her that she would take him and find him a good home. She had him for a while, though now and she was two weeks from delivering her second child.  She was desperate to find that place.  She felt guilty because he was so very loving and they had been trying not to bond with him. 

I wandered back to my booth, wondering how I could get Hud to agree with all the wrongheadedness of it.

I told him that the dog was a Catahoula/Shepard mix.

He jumped up and said, "Well, let's have a look at him then..."

I waited, biting my lip.  Wringing my hands.  Waited. Minutes passed and out of the corner of my eye, I see Hud, walking with Ace back to me. 

"We need to change his name.  I'm calling him Boudreaux."

So it is official.  We are animal hoarders.

He fit in seamlessly.  Zali has only groused a few times to push his weight around.  Bou was cool with that. After the initial alarmed barking by Simone, accepts him.  Zoe took to him right off and shared a toy with Bou. Carmen finds him fascinating. The only things we're working on are the cat and the birds.  Boudreaux simply does not understand have wild animals in the house.  Aida is not amused.

But I am!  He's already revealed some of the quirky bits of his personality.  He likes music. It makes him do the RCA dog head.  Loves to watch TV to the point of needing to tell him to sit down when he finds some particular piece of dialogue riveting.  And himself.  He could spend hours watching himself in the mirror.

He was only agitated for an hour or two.  Then he jumped down fromthe ottoman Zoe shared with him.  Nosed through the toy basket until he found the perfect one. Then he hopped back up.  Settled in beside Zoe again and squeaked peacefully.

Welcome home, Boudreaux. We're all glad you're here.

 

 

 

Good Days

The whole pack has been spending as much time as possible with Carmen.  She's been having lucid, steady days lately.  We've seen less of Carkeys and that is a blessing.

She goes on teetering walks about the backyard.  Eats heartily for breakfast and dinner.  But mostly?  She sleeps on her bed in the den.

She sleeps more soundly when we cover her with several layers of beach towels.  And yes, give her one as a pillow for her head.  Good thing she isn't spoiled or anything. 

Zoe has been spending a lot more time with her.  Instead of snoozing in the bar, she's been napping on her ottoman with Carmen.

Even the little kids are sticking close.

Well, admittantly, Zali may be sticking around like a remora.  He hovers like a vulture when Carmen eats her meals, waiting to snatch goodies from her plate.  That dog is a weasel sometimes.

So we're lazing happily along, relishing the good days.  And counting all of our blessings.

Turn that thing off!  Can't a girl get some rest around here?

Lunatics Running the Asylum

Yesterday, Hud and I returned from our annual trip to Slidell, LA to walk withthe Krewe of Mona Lisa and Moon Pies.  Again, a fabulous time was had by one and all.

However, while the cat was away, the mice were at play.

Phhhhtttt. I was here the whole time, Mother.  Pooping on the puppy pads.  Whatever do you meeeeeeen?

It was a metaphor for us, Aida.  Not you.  Nevermind.

After many kisses and hugs, we all trudged up the stairs with ten bajillion pieces of luggage.  Seriously.  I wish I were the girl who could toss a lip gloss and a an extra t-shirt in a bag and go jetting off for the weekend.  So, if you saw what we carried in the Mustang to Slidell, you'd understand that ten bajillion is not hyperbole.  We stopped when there was only room for our bodies to squeeze into the seats.

I dragged my make-up case into the bedroom and saw this:

Someone had been sleeping in our bed.

It'sMyBedToo,Asshole.IMadeItPerfect.YourWaySucks.

Simone immediately jumped in and scooted her face on the covers to show me how she got the perfect fold to snuggle against.

On her dad's side of the bed she sleeps on the covers with her head gently resting on a pillow.  On my side, she sleeps on the pillows.  They were a jumbled I-240 pile up of a car wreck on my side.

It couldn't have been Carmen.  Her days of coming upstairs are over.  She was passed out in her food dish in the den.

Zoe can't drag all of her muscles up that far. The bed is thirty-four inches tall.

It had to be Simone.  She's the only one who can get on the bed.  Pauvre Zali is too, um, portly to scale the massive height.  He has to sleep on a dog GOD bed when we travel.  He was whining to get up.  Who could blame him?  I lifted him up.

Sooooo very tired, Muzher.  NotMe,Dammit!I'mWeddyToWumble!

She had even pulled over my hoodie to nap and roll around in.  I went down the hall to the dressing room only to discover more carnage from Simone Buhler's Day Off.

Simone had gotten in the laundry and spread it all over the room.  I found panties in my shoes.

Daddee!Dad!Dad!DADDEE!DidYouSeeIDidTheLaundry,Dammit?DidYouSee?

ItStunkedLikeYouSoISpweadItAllOverToPweetendYouWereHere!ItGame!MeSmart,Wight?

Sigh. 

I wish I could teach her to pick up the house while I'm gone.  A maid I could use.  This? Not so much.

Never Gonna' Give You Up!

True confessions?  I love, love, LOVE the Christmas Holidays.  So much in fact, that for the first time ever at the Hudarosa. I haven't taken down two of my trees.  I KNOW!  But in an effort to remain timely, I flipped them to Mardi Gras trees!

I changed out all the ornaments  and lights to purple, yellow and green.  And hung masks all over them.  This one is in the bedroom.  Yes, the weather has been unseasonably spring-like, so the window is open.  In January.  Blowing warm breezes on my Mardi Gras tree. 

What?

And here's the one in the den.  You're right.  Even the kids are over me.

YouHaveSeriousFweakin'Issues,Ladee.

What?  Oh, look!  Ze grenouilles are sweeming!

But in other news, I finished a GIANT commission that I've been slaving over for months now.  24 pets at a pool party.  Over thirty characters in all.  Hud and I delivered it to its new home this weekend.

Whew.  Now maybe I'll have time to go shopping for the ornaments for the Easter trees.

What?

Breaking Tradition

Zali may never speak to me again.

Non, eye weel not!  You go to ze Paree witout ze Zali?  Quelle domage! Va tu fait cuire un oeuf! You do not luff your Zali!

We never really go anywhere that does not involve work.  But this year that all changed!

Hud wisked me away to Paris after Christmas to celebrate the New Year!  The first day we arrived late, so we went to a nearby deli recommended by Zahir, the manager at the Etoile Trocadero.  We had a split a tasty ham and cheese crepe and a salad, had a little walk and tumbeld into bed to sleep off the jet lag.  In the morning, we boarded the Metro and headed for Notre Dame on the Ile de la Cite. 

We made our way through the streets slowly.  Hud was taking pictures of everything.  And I do mean everything!

Each and every alley was documented on our journey.  We approached Notre Dame from the rear.  I thought he knew what it was already, but as we turned the corner, I was waiting for him to suck in his breath at its beauty.  I said, "There it is..." And he just stared across the park in front of the cathedral and said, "Where?"  So I turned him to face it. 

His face glowed with wonder. His eyes wide and child-like.  He whispered, "Oh, my..."  We winded our way throught he crowd and entered Notre Dame on the left hand of God as the pilgrims did in the 1100s when it was built in the honor of St. Denis.  St. Denis is the patron saint of Paris and the first bishop of Paris.  Sent to spread Christianity, he held mass in nearby caves and was later martyred.

Several other churches were built on the site , but removed for the emergence of Notre Dame in 1163.  It will be celebrating 850 years in 2013.  And I have to say the old lady is lovely.

They were saying mass as they do five times a day.  Seven on weekends.

 

There is beauty everywhere you turn and Hud was seduced by it.  This frieze surrounding the nave and choir details the days of Christ.

 

All the walls are painted with allegorical scenes, repaired after the revolution destroyed quite a bit of its original glory.

And exqisite sculptures of abound.

 

Not even the ceilings escaped decoration.

Hud asked if this really were Heaven.

And thinking that it might be, as we passed by Mary's alter, I lit a candle for Evelyn and her family.  I turn to the Virgin when I am struggling or in need of aid.  She answers most of my prayers with assistance and hope.

*for Evelyn, in loving memory*

The Christmas decorations are left until the Epiphany, so we got to enjoy those as well.

"But we still haven't seen the best part!" I told an astonished Hud. And we made our way outdoors.

The exterior is covered in scultures and bas relief, telling the woes of saints and the history of the bible.  On the right hand of God, as you exit, just above your head on the door jam is Adam and Eve and the Serpent.  Love the way the tree modestly covers their privates.

And how the half human snake gazes adoringly at Eve.

We made our way past gargoyles and spires.

To my favorite part of the cathedral.

FLYING BUTTRESSES!  I think that deserves a Ta Da! Don't you?

This place is so cool the public toilets in the back are faux bois.  Faux bois toilets, people!

Hungry, we crossed the bridge to get lunch to find it was covered in locks and bits of plastic on which were written the names of lovers who had been to the historic site.

And we vowed to return with a lock of our own.

The restaurant we chose was the A.O.C. They use local fresh ingredients.  The name is a nod to the French form of the FDA.

I'd rarely seen Hud happier.  We had blood sausage salad and warm goat cheese salad to start. 

For mains, the A.O.C. serves French comfort food.  I tried the rich fricassee de rosingnols and Hud had a succulent pork stew.

All of it was divine.  But my favorite was the blood sausage salad.  I think we surprised the waiter with our choices.  Having read Thomas Keller's The French Laundry, I believe in utilizing the entire animal.  If it gave it's life for your sustenance, then you have a responsibility to use all of it.

Lunch was at three, so by the time we got to Sainte Chappelle, the queue was too long to make it in by closing.

Sainte Chappelle is the home of the Crown of Thorns.  But we would have to see it another day.  We strolled on to the Pont Neuf.

And shared a kiss, as is tradition when visiting Paris.

The Seine roiled swiftly below us.  It was a great way to wrap up our day on the Ile de la Cite.

We said adieu to the Pont Neuf Parc and caught the Metro back to the Trocadero.

Okay.  Maybe I did browse for  a few antiques along the way.

I ahm Freench, Dammeet! Eye leek to rahde on planes.  Everyone has a doog.  You could ave taken moi. Je pout maintenant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

No One Was Stirring

This has been an exceptionally quiet Christmas.  A much needed respite from all of the drama last year.  Zali thinks he getting a car.  Simone wants some cheese. Zoe wants a bone.  Carmen wants a brain.  And Aida wants to sit in my lap for a month.

The two of us?  It looks like we will want for nothing!

That many presents for two people is an embarrassment, huh? 

Merry Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Sunday or whatever you celebrate!  We hope you get whatever your heart desires!

Gratuitous Shot of Zali

Zali, ever the camera shy, has made it to the cover of the WinterArts Christmas card.  Playing the baby Jesus to our middle-aged Madonna and Magi.

Ansley is offering one of her hand batiked ostrich eggs.  Dennis is gifting the dog in the manger one of his hand turned bowls.  And Dorothy is delivering some of her fine jewelry. My halo is by Brian Blankenship.

I know.  It's completely ridiculous.

I poop on eet, Muhzer.

We tried to use Simone, but she is as camera shy as he is a camera hog.  All he has to hear is the click of a shutter or the flash of a light and Zali is posing.  Head over the shoulder. *click* Pouting. *click* Licking his lips.  *click*.

He's better than most models on the cover of Vogue.

But don't fret.  I won't leave you without a gratuitous shot of Simone.

You are welcome.

 

*WinterArts is open every day right through Christmas Eve at four o'clock.  Come by and get some hand-made gifts for your loved ones by some of Memphis' best local artists!*

 

*First photograph by Hud Andrews.  The other two are you know who.