Undercover Decor

This is a dog dish. I don't have a dog.

This is a dog dish. I don’t have a dog.

Last week when I was assembling the lasagna and drinking my twisted tea, I was getting frustrated with the amount of clutter and mess going on in our home. The housekeeping at our place is definitely a health and safety concern.

Jack was on his way home from work when I mentioned my current lack of interest in Housewifery.

“You are going to get a surprise when you get home. A hurricane swept through here about an hour ago and the house is in shambles.”

“What? Did it rain there?”

“If tomato sauce is rain, yes it did. It rained red.”


An example of my wittiness while I’m drunk.

To lighten the subject, I came up with a game (also while half cut).
The name of the game is: “Guess How Long That’s Going to Be There”. Don’t let the length of the name fool you; the premise is simple. When you place something on the counter, table, floor, or otherwise, take a moment to guess how long that object will sit there collecting dust.

When Jack bought his new iPhone I told him not to even bother getting it wrapped up because the box and bag would sit at the kitchen table for a month. I got an eye roll and that was that. When we got home Jack removed his phone to play with it and left the bag at the kitchen table.A month later I was finally able to rock out the “I told you so”. In this case, I’m not so pleased with myself and my obvious home neglect.

You see, it’s not exactly my fault. It’s no one’s fault really. We all fall victim to “Undercover Décor”. At first, something that doesn’t belong somewhere looks out of place, but it’s easy to ignore. As time goes on things start to go unnoticed and eventually, they become part of the décor.

House guests start reaching for compliments on your décor because they know you’re an obsessive-compulsive cleaner and there has got to be a reason why THAT’s, THERE. Maybe it’s a new feng shui-type fad?

“I LOVE your candy bowl, it goes perfectly with your kitchen table!”

“Oh, thank you.”

That’s the dog dish, and that’s not chocolate.

Crazy Garden Lady Recklessly Returns


This was last year’s garden. Ignore the grass. That was an accident.

I was standing in Peavy Mart staring at the walls of beautiful merchandise, picturing myself stacking a cart full of seeds and mini greenhouses. It wasn’t a dream. It was my yesterday.

Jack of Most Trades is somewhat annoyed at my gardening; I don’t see why 30 pounds of tomatoes at harvest last year is such a big deal. It’s not like it was drugs.

I have had the pleasure of working with people wanting to quit smoking. Although some of them succeeded, many others were plagued by the addiction following their every move. I know what addiction is all about, and I know what someone will do for their drug of choice. Gardening is my drug, my addiction. It makes me happy. By the end of the summer, I end up hating it because it’s a lot of work, but by mid-winter I long for my thumb to be a little greener.

Again, this was my yesterday. I spent a good half hour searching for the best seeds and calculating what would be my best move in order to get the most bang for my buck. I kept the bill under $20. That’s about the cost of an expensive pack of smokes in Canada. If I said I wasn’t going to go back over and over to stock up on the latest trends in garden paraphernalia, I’d be fibbing.

The following is a re-enactment of how my addiction exploded yesterday.

In my mind I was thinking, “I NEED more plants. I only have so much garden and flower bed space. I NEED to start growing more plants NOW. I only have so much sunny window space in our house.”

And I was saying to Jack, “I almost bought another greenhouse today but I refrained.”


“I mean one of those seed starting mini greenhouses.”

One. Two. Three . . .

“I NEED you to drop what you’re doing and build me a greenhouse.”

“OK. I could.”

He better not be patronizing me.

“Out of all recycled materials,” I added.

“Find me some plans.”  

And that is how I scored myself more future plants. I don’t mind waiting because I know I will eventually have more. I am OK with the 36 I started yesterday. This is a lie, I’m not OK.

I can’t wait to see what this greenhouse looks like. Probably much like the dog house Jack built out of an old deck. He spent hours on that thing so his little princess could have 5-star accommodations (and I’m not talking about me). The house had its own deck with partial sun and partial shade, and even though it wasn’t pretty, it did the trick. I need to emphasize how many hours, cuts, nails, and wood this project required. I think he used an entire deck from a real sized house. And it really did nothing for the curb appeal of our real sized house. Maybe that’s why Jack is so adamant on having plans this time.

I wonder if he has time this evening to just whip up a greenhouse for me. You know what, I’ll do it myself. Can’t be too hard, right? And it’s not like every labour-related task I do outdoors turns into a disaster. Like every time I mowed the lawn last summer. The mower got stuck in a hole and I couldn’t get it out or I ran out of gas so I just left it there. Every time. I would just tell myself, “I was done anyway” or “It makes for a good lawn ornament.” What about the time I chipped away all the ice from the down spouts (blog post “Down Pout”)? That was helpful and definitely NOT a disaster.

I’ll let you know how it goes.