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I was always told growing up that you don’t work on Sunday’s. You get up, you go to church, you go back home, you eat dinner with the family and sit and twiddle your thumbs all day till time to go back to church that evening. Heaven forbid you mow your grass or wash your car or hang your clothes on the line for the whole world to see. What kind of Christian does that?
But I’m a big girl now. I have the freedom to choose for myself what’s right and wrong. Besides, times have changed; not that God is too old-fashioned, but that I view things differently now that I’m older. Still, those deeply ingrained values of yesterday keep tugging at my heartstrings today.
But we’ve got this renovation thing going on and our house is a wreck and our lives are turned upside down and we’ve been slaving for months and we’re old and worn out and want to get finished before we roll over and die! So yes, we worked on Sunday.
And guess what? The roof didn’t cave in on us and the walls are still standing, and we didn’t fall through the floor. We did need a marriage counselor, though. Hubby yelled at me for burning his hands with the hair dryer while heating the linoleum, and I yelled even louder at him for yelling at me and jerking the hair dryer out of my hand. I stormed off into the bedroom, slammed the door and didn’t come back out till I became human again. But we’re okay now. Hubby’s nose stopped bleeding and I don’t see double anymore.
All jokes aside, pulling up three layers of glued-to-stay down-forever linoleum in our tiny laundry room has been a pain. Number one, hubby’s a big man with PTSD and claustrophobia and thinks he’s gonna die of a heat stroke if he gets too hot. And the only way to make the job easier and faster was to heat the linoleum with a hair dryer. Number two, I’m just plain crazy and twisted when I get too stressed out.
In all fairness to us both though, we’re not just taking up linoleum and laying new flooring. We had to replace a rotten board due to water damage. We also painted the walls and cabinets and moved the dryer into the dining room. And today we’ll move the kitchen cabinet out so we can finish painting and pulling up linoleum.
Conclusion: I think our Sunday working days are over.
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Click on the following links to join us in our house-renovation-journey:
Every now and then I let all my people out as long as they promise to behave.
I created my caricatures from photos. I don’t like pictures of myself, but I love distorting them into something humorous.
Using PaintShop Pro 2019 Ultimate, I first erase the backgrounds from the photos. Then, using the Warp Brush I manipulate the facial features. When I’m satisfied with the character I wish to create, I use plugins and other special effects to give it the finishing touch.
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When Rascal, our handsome, Australian Shepard mix of eight years died, he took part of us with him. The grief was so unbearable that I never wanted another dog to wrap my heart around only to have it ripped apart.
But hubby couldn’t stop grieving and I couldn’t stand seeing him suffer. So, for his birthday, we paid a visit to the animal shelter, and there she was, curled up in a big cage on a skimpy blanket on that cold cement floor frightened and all alone.
Hubby fell in love.
I didn’t. She wasn’t Rascal.
So we kept looking.
No Rascal anywhere.
But hubby wasn’t looking for Rascal and kept dragging me back to that pitiful, scrawny, long-legged Greyhound mix curled up in that dreary cage. I guess I’m a sucker for pitiful, so we adopted her.
That was three years ago. Yep! Three years of wanting to wring her neck for chewing up her bed, and my pillows, and my couch; things Rascal NEVER did. Three years of her hyperactive personality, her jumping and jerking around when we tried petting her. Three years of trying to stop comparing her to Rascal.
Then a year ago Pepper came into our lives. Sweet, dainty, loving little Pepper. She was more dead than alive after being abandoned along with fifteen other dogs. She was so skinny I could barely feel her when she jumped on my lap. Then she licked my face, pierced my soul with those big brown eyes, and that did it. We bundled her up and took her home, hoping and praying Bella would approve.
It was love at first sight. Kindred spirits.
Having two dogs at one time in the house is more than challenging. It’s insane! Pepper loves jumping on the table, and countertops. Heck, she just loves jumping! The higher the better. Now Bella thinks she can jump that high, too. And Pepper is a chewer. Bella stopped until Pepper came along. And she was potty trained till Pepper came along. She was getting more settled till Pepper came along. We had to potty train her all over again. And Bella poops and pees like a cow. So yeah. I was tempted to haul them both off to the animal shelter. But, you already know what a sucker I am for pitiful.
In spite of all their frustrating antics, they are beautiful, loving dogs. They love each other and can hardly stand to be apart. And they love us and children and whoever comes to visit. Most of all, they bring us joy and happiness and a ton of laughter. And when I think where they might be today had we not rescued them, I want to cry