Can I Keep It?

Brave New World

The only reason I've been so silent is that my life is living me right now.  I have no control of it.  It's as if I've been pushed into a swollen, raging stream and all I can do is try to swim for shore.

So much to talk about. No time to do it.

Hud had a heart event.  Atrial flutters. The doctors are managing it and he is doing just fine, but it got us to talking.  And thinking.  And refiguring our life plans.

We want need for Hud to retire.  And keeping our beautiful, gorgeous house is more than we can handle.  The grounds (three fourths of an acre), two houses, a pool and gardens are too much for us to say grace over effectively, given the changes of the last few months.

We are downsizing to a smaller property.  We are leaving our beloved Schyterbolle.  All of us are quite sad about it.

We don't know where we're going yet.  The search has only just begun, as are the preparations to sell our handsome home. We've been here nearly sixteen wonderful years.  This home has seen so much of our lives.

I always knew that at some point I would have to leave it, as a home like this is an inheritance of sorts.  You take care of it for a while, and pass it on to the next person to love.

I'm just not sure I was through loving it yet.

Uggghhhhh

I may have to give up organic gardening.  The weeds have become zombies and I am experiencing the apocalypse.

My poor Schicken and butterfly garden.

It's not just the pesky mimosa trees and sticky weeds and creeping-what-ever-the-heck-that-insidious-thing-is, it's the flowers of times gone by.  We planted Torina thirty feet away by the pool about ten years ago.  Every Spring? It covers the vegetable beds.  And these Cosmos?

Were put in as seeds about six years ago.  The Torina is carefree, taking up where ever it can.  Content to grow under the shade of a tomato.  But the Cosmo is an opinionated bully, springing up in walkways and shoving around the vegetables.  The bed they have taken over with such abandon is actually an okra bed.  The shamed okra is cowering beneath the showy Cosmos' display of strength.

I wish the little bunny who has been eating my beet tops and cabbages could learn to nosh on Cosmos and creeping-what-ever-the-heck-that-insidious-thing-is.

Ugggghhhh.

Fresh

My life is getting in the way of my blogging.  

And Zali is not happy about it.  He raged on for a hour this morning bout how his people are missing him. Secretly, I think they'd miss Simone more, but I didn't tell him that.

You know it's hard to write a blog with a bird on your hand.  Who knew?

My garden is a weedy mess, so Boudreaux, Zali, Simone and I headed out in the heat to fix the situation.  Two hours later, it looked as if I had been inside reading a book.

Insert disappointed face here.

But the good news is that I discovered green beans!  Surprise!

* Pardon the picture.  I still can't find my camera cord, so I have to rely on my Stupid Phone

It sorely needs to take a lesson or two from some one's Smart Phone.

Insert smiley face here.

Hudson came home at noon.  I made him some pork and leek dumplings and turned the fresh find in the garden into Schezuan green beans with ground turkey and Ponzu rice.

Insert full stomach here.

And just so he'll quit dogging me -- here:

Zali in a compromising position.

But I know this is what you really want:

Simone gazing upon you in distain.

You are welcome.

Sprung

A few days ago, I headed out to the garden to do some weeding with the kids.  As I left the door and waited for them to follow, I realized that the wisteria arbor above my head was issuing a low huuuuuummmm.

Spring had errupted in my yard.  The kids set about to chasing drunken bees.

 

Over night, the arbors over the patio and at the end of the pool, look as if they are cover by a thick lavendar chenille spread.

My favorite time of the year snuck up on me.

NotMe,Mommee.IHeardDemPrickleeJerksFromInsideTheHowse!

Mon Petit Chou

Today was lovely.  A soft warm breeze, slightly overcast, quiet. Finally spring-like!

Hud and I started planting the garden yesterday, so today, the kids and I soldiered on without him.

We weeded the bed in front of the Shicken.  Simone was of great assisstance. 

You could probably tell from the dirt in her ruff that she is quite handy at hole digging.  In fact, she majored in it as a undergrad.

Boudreaux was...Boudreaux.  He splashed across the pool cover, leapt over brick walls and fencing, around the backyard, under the azaleas, over the pool deck and into the garden with a crashing stop at my hunched over body. 

Bou hab eggsellent adbenture. Gardening pffun.

It was all going very well until I turned to ask Zali how he was getting along with the weeding and discovered that he had dug up one of my newly planted cabbages!  He had chomped it down to the roots.

Whut? Eet wuz zee qualitee cuntroll, Muhzer!

Now, I knew he and Simone could not be trusted with broccoli, but cabbages?!?! Le sigh. He looks remorseful, but I had to stop him from murdering the rest of the crop, the little buggar.  That's the look of a guilty man, not a sorry one.  No wait. Guilty and sorry. That's more like it.

Time of death - 10:39.  Farewell, mon petit chou.  I hardly knew ye. 

Bou and Simone took the death seriously and decided to be on their best behavior for the remainder of the outing. Zali went up to the house, pouting.  He stayed by the back door yipping to go in.  Seems I had spoiled all his fun.  

I finished planting cucumbers, beets, bush beans and Thai eggplant.  The three of us joined him at the door when it was time to start making lunch.

A very fine spring morning, inspite of the carnage.

 

 

A Funny Thing Happened...

...On the way to Zoe's passing.

*Photo by the talented Hud Andrews on the day Zoe came to be our baby.

Sorry I upset so many people yesterday.  I thought I'd tell you a few funny stories about Zoe today to make up for it.  She was quite the rodeo clown.

We started to rename her, "Bonk".  She would tumble out of the van, down the stairs, off the couch.  It all ended the same way.  Flat on her head.  She'd hop up, shake it off and be on to the next adventure.  Zoe was one tough puppy.  Just  a rub-some-dirt-on-it-and-go girl. 

 

Zoe was HARD to train.  I think it was all that little girl on the playground squealing that went on in her head.  She just couldn't hear me over it.  So you can imagine what a joy it was for her to greet people at the door.  The little girls in her head would scream, "COMPANY!!!" and Zoe would fly at the door, bonking people in the crotch.  Sigh.  I swear I wanted to put a basket filled with football players protective cups by the  front door with a sign that read, "Put one on and ring bell at your own risk."

Our neighbor, Maryann, loves labs, but Zoe was always knocking her around.   One day, Maryann popped over.  I restrained the exuberant Zoe and she said for me to let her go.  We were going to ignor her and chat so that Zoe could get used to being around her. So there we were, talking about nothing in particular, when Maryann's eyes popped open wide and she exclaimed, "OOOOpps!" We looked down.  Maryann had on t-shirt knit shorts.  Zoe had cramed her head into the left side and out the right leg.  Her body was wriggling and her face beamed.  The two of us burst into peals of laughter!  Everytime we tried to extract the dog's mug from her pants, the pants came down and the harder we laughed.  Oh, that dog.  Marley was an obedience school five star cadet compared to Zoe.  

One Summer, when Zoe was young, we all went out to the pool on a sunny Summer afternoon.  Hud and I got in to swim.  Zoe wouldn't go unless you forced her.  Despite the fact that she swam like a paddlewheeler, she hated to get in.  She loved to be splashed in the face like a ten year old boy, but no way were you putting her all the way in there.  Needless to say, Hud and I weren't paying attention and as we went back to get our bourbon and cokes, saw that they were completely empty!  Barely an ice cube left in the glasses.  Yes, Zoe had drained them both.  We were more careful after that.  

But that didn't stop Zoe's call to alcohol.  

Hud's habit was to take Carmen and Zoe to the park for a run every morning. (She did it on the Friday before her death even.) So on this particular day, a bum was walking through the woods, drinking a forty.  Zoe raced to his side, jumping and barking.  The frightened man yelled to Hud, "Please don't let your dog eat me, Mister!" Hud sighed and said, She doesn't want you.  She wants your beer."  "Oh!" replied the man, "She's a booze hound!"  And he laughed.

After a bad storm of straight line winds, we needed help cleaning up and making repairs.  Hud hired a man.  I didn't know he was in the back yard, and had let the dogs out. "COMPANY!" the girls in her head screamed and off Zoe went.  "MISTER! CALL OFF YOUR DOG! MISTER! PLEASE! MISTER!" as he ran for the back fence.  Hud yelled for him to stop.  And calmed him enough to get him to pet her.  I mean, she was mistaken more than once for a horse.  You see, Zoe loved a good workman with a tool belt.  I always had to warn people working in the house that she would steal their tools.  If they missed something, it was always stashed under the dining room table. One time, she robbed a man of his hammer, tapemeasure, a wrench and a screwdriver.  Over the years that Mike worked here, he and Zoe became fast friends.  He made a point of hanging gloves out of his back pocket so she would have something to steal.  Mike loved to make a big game out of getting them back, fussing at her the whole time.

There is so much more.  My Funny Face was a real commedian. I'm gonna' miss that.  She was a big presence in this house. Physically and spiritually.

 

 

 

Petit et Grand Trianons

After viewing Versailles, we made the long trek past the Grand Canal, Orangerie, gardens, parterres and basins to the Trianons. See that long canal in the distance?  We had to walk a little over half way up it and take a long walk to the right. There are several restaurants along the way, so no need to pack a lunch.

First we went to Marie-Antoinette's escape, The Petit Tranon.

And climbed the stairs to Marie-Antoinette's sleeping chambers.

Originally built by Madame de Pompadour, who did not live to see its completion, Marie-Antoinette used this manse as an escape from court.  It is surrounded by sheep farms where she would delight in dressing as a shepardess and roam the countryside.

Here's a room I bet Marie didn't know existed:

The kitchen. Surprise Marie-Antoinette!

But I bet she frittered away many a delightful afternoon is this one:

Her ginormous portrait says it all.

As well as here in the gardens.

My favorite folly of the Trianons is the Hamlet, just past the Temple of Love.

If you could plop Schyterbolle anywhere, it would slip in seamessly here.

Twelve houses (six remain) surround an artificially made fishing weir filled with descendants of the queen's original carp.  

The Queen's house was the largest and attatched to the King's billard room.  From her chambers she could watch the men working in the fields.

They made cheese in this building with the turret.

Oh!  It is charming.  I want to live there. But the afternoon was dwindling, so off we went, back throught the gardens, past the Petit Trianon, to the Grand Trianon.

Louis XIV's escape from court life. It's a little more grand than the Queen's.

If my house were open fromthe third floor to the basement, you might be able to hang that chandelier. But you couldn't walk uder it. So I suppose I'll have to pass on it. Quelle dommage.

Proof of our existance in the Mirror Room at the Grand Trianon:

This chamber belonged, in later years, to the Empress Marie-Louise. All of it is decorated as Louis XIV left it, but the furniture has changed over the years.  The original furnishings were sold during the revolution. The bed here, was Napoleon's, brought here from the Tuileries Palace.

 

Every room has a view of the formal gardens. It was said of the King that he enjoyed "bullying" nature.  Heee.

The Grand Peristyle And its view of the gardens...

Years ago, I had a black and white checkerboard floor in my kitchen.  This makes me want to put it back.

Everything is just soooo, I don't know.  Understated.  Yes, that's what I'm searching for...

Even the floors.

Onward.

The Gaming Room.  As you do.

This is the bedchamber of the Oueen of the Belgians. Louis-Phillipe tranformed it for his daughter and son-in-law.  The bed was Empress Josephine's from the Tuileries.

Louis-Phillipe's family room.  So cozy and informal, no?

The Malachite Room.  Named after the the stone gifts from Tsar Alexander I to Napoleon.

I've never seen so many little movable seats in all my life.  They must have had an overflow of guests at all times.

The Cotelle Gallery.  Yeah, I'm guessing intimate dinner parties went on at the Petit Trianon.

These large marble troughs were for cooling the wine.  It was in the Cotelle Gallery that the First World War was ended when a peace treaty with Hungary was signed.

The chapel wing built by Louis-Phillipe for the wedding of his daughter in 1837.

It was getting late in the day and we had a long train ride back to the Etoile, so we stepped out into the rain and trekked back for Versailles.

Out to the busy streets and onto the Metro.

Bon nuit, Versailles! Bon nuit, les Trianons! Je t'aime beaucoup mon Hamlet!

What will tomorrow bring?

 

 

 

 

 

Long Time, No Blog

I've been crushed by commission deadlines for the past month.  I know.  It's probably bragging, rather than complaining.  Work is good.  Pets are still crazy.  Everything was humming along and then -

It turned cold. We had the boiler serviced and the pilot lit. Scintillating, I know.  But the system never fully heated and in the morning, Hud went down to check on it and the pilot had gone out.  So we had James come back.  He found a leak in a pipe, so he thought.  Hud called a contact from work who came out that day to see it.  They referred us to a heating company.  They came out and then - 

The serviceman found out the boiler reservoir had cracked.  

I know.

Game over. Scene.  Get the Fat Lady warmed up.

But we're counting our bessings.  The mechanical engineer who came out and diagosed the problem said it should have exploded when Hud and James tried to light it the second time.  Said he had seen them blow through the foundation seven or eight feet into the ground.

I know.

We've been without heat since Friday.  It's colder than a witch's hoo ha at night.  Even the dogs are snuggling up for warmth.  

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Bou was shivering, despite cuddling up against Zoe.  So we covered the two of them up.

The guys just arrived to install the new one.  Twenty-first century, here we come!

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Change is in the Air

Last Friday, the winds blew in a change in the weather. We awoke to temperatures in the eighties.  A full twenty degrees cooler than the average around here.  

The kids were frisky.  It hasn't been this lovely in months.  Boudreaux was all smiles.

Zoe felt better than ever.  She even insisted on going to the park with Hud and Boudreaux.

Zali wanted to go for a walk, but he settled for chasing Bou and Simone around the backyard.

Hud came out to enjoy the day, but he was so into the book, Gone Girl, that he hardly noticed it.

The toad lilies are blooming brightly after the storms.

All of the yard was heaving a sigh.  The drought is lifted.

AhThinkItSuks.It'sGettingMyBeautifulFurWet.StupitWain.

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.