Sunday, September 24, 2017

gracie chronicles vol. V: sick dog

Holy dog poop.

Mom hasn't let me write a blog post since March.


But I got sick. So she's feeling a little sorry for me. As she should.

Woof. I am Gracie.

It all started on Labor Day weekend. I was minding my own business, chasing down unsavory characters in the neighborhood (my usual daily enterprise). I felt fine during the day, but in the middle of the night, I became afflicted with nausea. Naturally, I vomited on the blanket covering Mom and Dad. But I was quiet and stealthy in my vomiting, because I didn't want to disturb them.

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Sunday, September 10, 2017

guest bathroom round two: the finale

Hello and welcome back!

If you're joining us late, you can catch up on part one of the guest bathroom HERE.

For those us who haven't already had too much to drink this morning, you might remember we left off with the vanity Phil built for The Room Where Dad Poops Every Morning.

It looks totally amazing.

But this is NOTHING compared to how this room looks now!

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Sunday, August 20, 2017

guest bathroom round one: the vanity

Greetings! I've been absent. During that absence, I switched my e-mail subscriptions over to Mailchimp, and I don't know if those apes will successfully deliver this post. To anyone. Ever. Let me know, will ya?

In the meantime, I'll endeavor to write a read-worthy post and pretend there is someone out there who will at least take a peek. Otherwise, what's the point?

We've been living in our new home nearly four years now, and our guest bathroom is still unfinished. While that might sound like a terrible inconvenience, no one really likes us enough to want to be our guest in the first place. Probably because we make you bring your own beer, wine, and food, and insist you bring us a supply as well. (I like any Sauvignon Blanc as well as Apothic Dark for future reference.)

Or, perhaps it's because Gracie refers to the guest bathroom as "The Room Where Dad Poops Every Morning." 

That's right. There's a toilet, but unless you want to wash your hands in the bathtub (or in the toilet you just defiled), you must find an alternative soap-and-water source.

So, why does Philly poop here instead of in our beautiful master bath? It's simple. There are two creatures indigenous to this particular bathroom that are terribly important to his "process." 

First? The Squatty Potty (or, as I call it, the poop stool--which is a bit redundant and makes me giggle). Second is Mr. Kindle, upon which Philly ruthlessly battles Spider Solitaire while taking care of business.

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Sunday, April 9, 2017

reesie piecie: buffet/changing table

I can admit it.

I've been letting Gracie do all the heavy lifting around here lately. What little lifting has been done, anyway.

Phil and I tend to hibernate over the winter and lose all motivation to do anything and everything.

Except eat. We never lose motivation to eat. Because there's delicious wintertime comfort food to be had, and we look forward to putting on our thirty pounds of winter fat.


At least it gives us something to bitch about come springtime.

Nevertheless, I will continue to let Gracie have the run of the blog whenever she feels compelled; but, in the meantime, I have a furniture makeover for you today! And it's about bloody time, because it's for Reese, and she's already seven months old.

Holy poop-filled diapers. How did that happen so quickly? And why am I so late with this project?

Before you know it, Reese will be old enough to see that her Grandi occasionally swears on the blog.

In my defense, the kids have been renovating an old house and they are finally getting ready to move in. So, as far as I'm concerned, I'm not late at all, because I'm a wizard. And, as we all know, a wizard is never late, nor is she early. She arrives precisely when she means to.

Now, onto the buffet.

Only the finest for my grandnugget.

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Wednesday, March 8, 2017

gracie chronicles vol. IV: psycho dog

I know. I know.

Mom promised you a furniture post, but like the good ratter I was bred to be, I nosed my way in yet again.

Personally, I find the title of this post rude and offensive. Psycho Dog. As if.

First of all, I'm not a D-O-G. I'm a Schnauzer. You didn't know there is a difference? Yes. There's a great difference.

Also, Mom happens to think I'm a complete psycho when I'm in the car. I think I'm completely amazing.

Woof. I am Gracie.

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Wednesday, March 1, 2017

gracie chronicles vol. III: wonder bred

I hope you're enjoying my taking over Mom's blog as much as I am. I also hope she trims my toenails soon, because it's becoming increasingly difficult to type.

She swears (a lot) that she's going to post a furniture project again soon (for that Reese-Baby, no less), but I just happen to be providing convenient blog fodder for the moment.

Woof. I am Gracie.

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Saturday, January 14, 2017

gracie chronicles vol. II: table dancer

"I've been taking up every spare moment of Mom's time."

This is the lie Mom wants me to tell you so you're not mad at her for being absent from the interwebs since before December. Instead, she wants you to blame ME for her truancy. Moi. Gracie. Because I'm a dog, and she doesn't think I'm capable of revealing that lie to you gracious and kindhearted folks.

Oh. And she's going to force me to tell you a couple stories I'd rather not discuss.

Because they made me get in trouble.

Woof. I am Gracie.

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Wednesday, November 30, 2016

gracie chronicles vol. I: rogue bladder

My bladder has gone rogue. I had surgery almost four weeks ago, and I still leak piddle like a sieve, and I'm so embarrassed. I heard Mom say diaper the other day, and I don't think she was talking about the Reese-Baby

Speaking of the Reese-Baby, Mom made this adhorrible picture of me and the Reese-Baby all smooshed together. We are a few of her favorite things, so let's see what we look like as a dog-baby stew, right?

She calls it Grace-Swap. She thinks she's so clever.

Woof. I am Greecie.

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Friday, November 18, 2016

reese lynn's quilt of many colors

Whoa. Thank goodness you're here.

I made two very important stops the other month. The purpose of those stops will reveal itself shortly.

Do you remember this?

And this?

Yeah, I'm way fatter than that now. What did you expect? My granddaughter was ready to come bursting forth from the womb at the moment I began typing this. And I've been gaining gran-pathy fat.

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Sunday, November 13, 2016


I want to eat The Cat.

I want to eat The Cat so badly I think she would be the tastiest of morsels.

My cat-eating plans continue to be thwarted.

So I will wait. I will be patient, even though that is not in a Schnauzer's nature. I will give Mom, Dad, and Cat a false sense of security.

Then I will make my oh-so-delicious move.

Woof. I am Gracie.

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Wednesday, November 2, 2016

the empty bowl

It's obvious when a bowl is empty, right?

It's a basic assumption we can recognize an empty bowl when we see one. Sometimes that empty bowl will stare us in the face, and yet, we look beyond it.

At other times, that empty bowl will slap us in the face and demand to be recognized.

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Wednesday, October 12, 2016

i like big decks and i cannot lie {part three}

It's officially mimosa time.

Why does everyone say "sip mimosas"? I heard these words fall out of my own mouth, and the lie echoed loudly in my ears. Let's slam mimosas. Because at least that has the ring of truth to it.

And I'll have none of that pulpy orange juice. If it doesn't flow willingly down the gullet, it tends to slow down (and, thus, ruin) the experience.

Better yet, let's make mimosas with apple cider, vodka, and bubbly. Because fall has arrived. My daughter, Emma, found this recipe and we had to try it out. Yum yum. 

I love drinking with children.

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