Distressed is Distressing

For me, anyways.

I've been a big fan of blogging diy'ers for some time.  To the point where they inspired me to do a handful of my own projects, most of which turned out wonderfully!

You recall the bedroom makeover:

 

Which lead to the home-made headboard:

The hutch makeover:

And the Ottoman Recover:

I had great fun with each and every one of the projects I've tackled.  And all of them were inspired by other bloggers who DIY on a daily basis.

I don't like change enough to want to be changing things so frequently, which is why all of these projects were so spaced apart, and the reason that this blog will never become 'Musings of a Minnesota DIYer'.  That's just not how I roll.

My vision is turning onto my furniture at home.  Most of it, dressers, the coffee table, etc, is older and hand me downs from siblings when I was 18.  Much of the pieces are solid wood.  I've been seeing the results people are getting with some sanding (okay, a lot of sanding) and some primer and paint or stain.  And I'm getting excited about it. 

However... and I'm probably going to get kicked for saying this, it really bums me out when people purposefully 'distress' a piece after they have spent hours or even days refurbing it.  I guess I am not seeing the magic that others are seeing in finished distressed pieces. To me, they just look older and spookier. And dirty.  Distressing gives them a very dirty look. 

It's distressing.  Get it?  But seriously.

Resist the Finnius

LOOK at this baby!

Yeah.  Resist him.  It's okay, I'll give you a few seconds to try.



Ha, FAILED!  Just like I knew you would.

Oh, I've totally got faith in you.  But just not on this subject. 

Nobody resists Baby Finnius.

It's Different This Time...

I don't expect anybody else to understand my passion for dogs and rescue.  When 'it' found me, it gobbled me up whole and it will never spit me out.  And if it did, I would never be whole again.

But I struggle with it because nobody else understands.  It's most difficult being in love with a man who just doesn't get it either.  Red isn't a dog person, which is unfortunate because it's a constant source of tension between us. 

When I adopted my dogs, there was something there.  There was a feeling about the dog that brought about an understanding that that dog was to be mine.  It's a specific emotion, and I've never had it for any dog other than my own.  Jake, Frankie and Kirby.  Maggie is Red's dog... I didnt have a feeling about her for me.  I had a feeling about her for Red though.  I knew the day they met that she was his.  Yeah, we went through 2 more adoptions and returns before Red finally realized it for himself. 

Jake is my soul. He's the driving force behind the strength of my passion for rescue. He is the reason that I took the path that brought me to where I am today. Without him, I fear where I might be.

Frankie is my heart.  She sprouted something in my heart that is so huge that is sometimes overwhelms. She makes me laugh, she makes me cry.  She's amazing. And she has eyes only for me.  Non-dog people just dont understand the beautiful power in that.

Kirby is my love.  He's a clown and a fool.  He keeps me grounded and slows me down when I push my life too quickly.  And he constantly reminds me of why I love dogs in the first place.  Kirby will not be pushed, and thats what makes me a better dog owner.

This past weekend, Kirby, Frankie and I travelled south to Napervilla, IL for a frisbee comp.  We brought back with us 5 Aussies who were facing death.  Konrad, Babaloo, Finn, Aubrey....

And Smoke.

Smoke is my light.  And he should be mine.  The minute Smokey stepped off the transport on Saturday and I wrapped my arms around him, he was mine.  He didnt leave my side all weekend.  We were bonded instantly.  And last night when I had to say goodbye to him and send him with his foster mom, it was like the light went out.  I've been sad since he left me. I have tears in my eyes when I see the pictures I took of him. 

Smoke is meant to be mine.  I know it.  He knows it.  It breaks my heart that I cannot have him simply because my love isn't a dog person.  I feel blue.

Its so dark without my Smokey Boy.