Beeeeeen!

"WTF! This House of Bich is whack, yo!"

Before we get to the pictures of Ben, here's an awesome one of Bernie checking herself out in my love-love-love vintage mirror last week.

"Mirror, mirror, on the futon ... eff it, we all know I'm gorgeous."

And here's the new boy, lounging on the floor. He's a real mover, always checking out his new digs, then getting up to give us kitty kisses (or slash Rich's chest in a fit of sudden fear).

"Where's that Woody character? Oh, I scared him away again? Oh, well."

And yes, he's a lap kitty.

In other news, Rich made dinner last week -- at least when he makes dinner, he does it up right.

Here's a little touch of decor I'm working on: recycling old Mason jars and using them as votive holders.

And the current state of the living room -- homemade ottoman cover to come, more wall pieces, a new rug.

Party of five

The House of Bich is now a house of five.

We've been talking about adding a third feline to the brood for a while, or even adopting a dog. (More on that later.) So when we found out that the township was holding free adoptions last week, we decided to take a look and drove to the shelter on Saturday.

"No commitments, OK?" Rich said. "We're just looking, not walking out with one."

Yeah, well, you try to resist those plaintive meows and faces poking through the cage bars.

We walked into the kitty room at our local shelter and started checking out the merchandise. Every once in a while, a little paw poked through, reaching for human contact.

In one cage, however, was a gray and beige cat-mutt throwing himself at the cage door, spinning around in his tiny cell in such excitement that food was flying everywhere and his water bowl was nearly overturned. His name read "Donald." He came from a hoarding situation (his former owner still has 23 cats in his home; he gave up after letting two cats go), and was 4 years old.

Something kept me going to that cage, even after we looked at sweet orange tabbies, sleeping black kitties -- "No more black cats," Rich said -- rich gray ones, not-quite-ready-for-adoption kittens. He was clearly active and energetic, exactly what I wanted. We took him out of the cage a few times, and those big green eyes ... oy.

(We took a brief break to see the dogs, and I could tell immediately that Rich never wants to get one. It didn't help that they were either tiny yappers or dogs that were begging for saddles, but it was unnerving to him. We didn't stay long before heading back to the cat room.)

I went back to Donald.

Rich sighed. "If you want him, we'll get him," he said, resigned to his fate.

So we filled out the application, borrowed a cage and brought Donald home, where he became Ben (for Woodward and Bernstein's Post editor, Ben Bradlee. I need a fourth cat so I can name her Kitty Graham).

Woody, Bernie and Bennie: I think we're good on cats now.

At first, he hid behind the armchair in the second bedroom, though he purred when petted. He stayed there until Sunday, gradually making his way out, jumping out when a human came in the room so he could get some more love. He started to drink his water (not sure if he's eaten yet), check out the room.

Last night, I left the door open, and step by step (followed by some retreating, then heading back, rinse and repeat), he made it to the bottom of the stairs ... to be met by Bernie's unflinching death gaze.

Bernie hissed. Bernie growled. Bennie kept moving, fearless and awed by his new digs.

He walked into the office, where Woody was sleeping -- but Woody was so relaxed he didn't even notice that a new cat had walked under the futon he was lounging upon. Bernie had followed Bennie into the office, so soon we had three cats in one office, two not very happy.

Poor Woody and Bernie: shaking like leaves, growling, hissing, hiding. (Not well; Bernie decided to hind behind my aloe plant, peeking out from behind the leaves as if she were a jungle panther.) Woody vacillated between scared and content to sit next to me on the couch, alternately puffing up like a blowfish and kneading the couch.

I brought Woody into the bedroom to sleep with me, which he was totally happy to do, with no desire to leave. In the morning, I found Bernie downstairs, purring away and meowing happily. When Ben came back downstairs, she went back to unhappy ... but I'm pleased so far. As long as everyone has a hiding place, it'll turn out fine.

So we have three cats. Better bring your allergy meds.

Deep thoughts by Bich Samqua

So I went ahead and did something that resulted in a little ... hissing match between the B and the Ich.

With Rich off to a bachelor party in AC yesterday, I awaited a 1-800-Got Junk truck to pick up the carpet remnants and other random pieces of junk in and around the house.

Here's where the fight comes in: I didn't ask Rich, and he didn't really appreciate that little fact.

So why would I share that sort of domestic detail? Because in the end, after we thoughtfully stated our positions (i.e. did a little yelling, calmed down, ignored each other, etc.), together, we did just enough to make ourselves look around and say, "This works."

After I finally shoved Rich out the door yesterday, the truck came and took away a bunch of crap I needed out of the house for my state of mind. Then, Leeza and Olivia came over yesterday for much-needed girl time and artistic guidance (Leeza has some absolutely amazing things in store for the house, eeeee!). I love these two.

After I let our fabulous dinner of jhinga masala and veg pakora settle, I did some trim-fixing in the wee hours of the morning (I vaguely remember Rich walking in around 6 a.m.). And when Rich and I awoke this morning, had our little tiff and moved on, we got to work.

Sometimes we forget how much we respect each other, how funny I find Rich, how much Rich loves it when I stand my ground. As we hammered nails (struggling, admittedly) to hang mementos and pieces of our life together on the walls, with every piece reminding us of all the wonderful things we've experienced ... well, it's tough to stay mad. And it made the time fly.

Bich has always believed that what we've really got going for us is that we know we're not perfect, marriage isn't easy and kittehs solve everyth-- sorry.

Wait. No, I'm not. Kittehs solve all. We're all curled up on the couch with one of our favorite wines, cheese in our bellies, truly content. Our house isn't perfect, but it's perfect for us.

A house in pictures

Hey, sooner or later, Bich does as promised.

We've clearly got a long way to go, but it's in some semblance of order (we won't talk about the upstairs) and it's comfortable. For us, anyway.

The kitchen, looking down the hallway at a kitteh and a not-well-placed litter box

Hey, we're like adults and stuff ... with a trashcan!

The bathroom -- new shower curtain, new curtain rod and rings.

Looking from the corner of the living room (I didn't say the pictures were in any sort of order.)

From the corner of the dining room, a kitteh.

A blank canvas, just waiting for a wine buffet and wall decor.

The real "office."

A lazy Caturday

The usual state of the television, thanks to Comcast.

The office/second guest room

Mama went a little nuts at The Container Store. We don't have a linen closet, so towels and sheets are in large canvas totes.

Again, all toiletries and beauty needs are safely Contained.

The Container Store had a big sale.

OK, it's not perfect and it's not the last solution to the problem, but everything is in order, I know where it is and it's pretty darn organized, all things considered. (Please do not ask about the Diapers.com box.) I'll very likely take down the hutch in the future and put up wall shelving.

If you look closely, you'll find four different colors of orange/yellow.

Kittehs love stairs.

I love our stairs, too. One of my big August projects -- funny how that list just gets longer and longer -- is to prime and paint the risers white. Some of the risers are paint-ready; others are not. I'd love to know how the previous owners managed that little feat.

Kitteh says "Hi! When's this crap going to make it onto the walls?" (That would be today, Woody, as Leezy and Lib are coming over to help.)

Stuff and thoughts

Totally lied. No new pictures.

I picked up the camera this morning to take some photos of the house with the aid of natural light, but the battery was dead. Again. This is the usual circumstance.

And because Rich has embargoed my shopping, I can't even do that today. (Men just have no idea how cute a house can look full of all the STUFF you can find on the interwebs.)

So I moved my focus to animals.

A third animal will likely join the household within the next year or so, but the big question: a dog or another cat? The only clear answer is that we would very much like to rescue an older animal that would not normally have a good chance at being adopted. Today, I perused Petfinder to see who's out there.

Bad idea. So bad. I've now barely been able to make it through the day without crying for the millions of poor animals that will never know the love and adoration that Woody and Bernie receive on a daily basis. (Really -- they barely have to try. Poor Rich is convinced he's a distant third in the Who Is Brooke's Favorite? contest.)

Of course, getting the house in order is more important right now. However, 1) the office is now a functioning room, which is used mostly for my morning routine, 2) we have an actual wastebasket in the kitchen (already broken), 3) the laundry is done and 4) we even have plants, thanks to Leeza, Gary and Olivia. If I had a working phone, I could post the blurry picture I took of Woody this morning, who had climbed to the top of the refrigerator and was breakfasting on my fern, purring while he ate.

Speaking of The Fabulous Ones, Leeza and Lib will come over tomorrow to help me finish some trim, get to work on some homemade pillows (eeeeee!) and PUT STUFF ON THE WALLS. Yep. I'm kicking Rich out of the house at noon so the ladies can, without needless and opinionated interruption, make House of Bich a home.

Maybe I can convince him to go get my old mattress next weekend so that there is an actual bed in the guest room. Or maybe I should just not press my luck.

Pillow talk

Brooke: We need to paint the upstairs.

Rich: No, we don't. We need to get everything hung on the walls.

B: We're not done painting yet.

R: Yeah, but we live downstairs, and we need to get that stuff on the walls.

B: We still have trim to fix.

R: So fix that and get stuff on the walls. You said you'd do it.

B: Yeah, but I want to get the bedroom painted so we can put our stuff in here. Everything's in boxes on the porch and it's driving me crazy. I want this room to not be this ugly color anymore.

R: I promise we won't always have a bedroom covered in spackle and this ugly beige-yellow color. But we don't live in this room. We only sleep here.

B: We spend a third of our lives in this room and I want it to look nice.

R: We will. It's just not my priority. I don't want to do it right now. We don't even make the bed anymore.

B: We don't make the bed because this room otherwise looks like crap.

R: It looks this way because we spend no time in here.

B: Our bedroom is going to look like this 10 years from now, isn't it?

Photos, Part I

The HoB has joined the 21st century and received Internet access. Woooo!

A few photo posts to come. To start: Two days before move-in, which was two weeks ago today.

A view of the kitchen from the hallway

View of the living room into the dining room; entrance from front porch at left

Very, very old radiator ... gone from master bedroom

Up the stairs -- no more wallpaper (risers will be painted white later)

The debris from the removal of the shower doors (future project: new grouting and sealant)

Freshly painted bathroom (not quite done)

God love Billy, painting the kitchen

Old thermostat, gone (new one has been installed; for you electricians out there, Phil yelled, "I'll kill the bastard who wired your house! He did this with TELEPHONE WIRE!" OK, we didn't understand, but we trust him)

Paint colors (all by Behr, from The Home Depot): Living room, dining room, hallway -- Cornmeal; kitchen -- Twenty Carat; bathroom -- Maiden Voyage; stairwell -- Manila Tint

Stories

We love stuff with stories.

While my heart will always belong to Crate and Barrel, I'm finding more room in it for handmade and vintage items. Filling our house with handmade art and old pieces with a history appeals to me -- our house was built in 1929, and I'd love to know who once lived there, what they did, how they made a life there. I'll probably never find out, but I can incorporate that sort of "history" into the decor.

This, of course, means that Etsy has become my new best friend. (And Rich's worst enemy. Probably can't blame the poor guy. He's afraid to let me into Kanibal.)

So I've been hunting for a reasonably priced vintage mirror to fit my new shabby-chic philosophy. I found one at Etsy. The seller couldn't ship it because the thing is reeeeally heavy ... but lo and behold, she lives in Ocean County, just a trip down the Parkway for me.

I went to pick it up and stayed for almost two hours talking to the seller, a wonderful woman named Michelle who is the world's best repurposer. Her entire home--which is beautiful--is full of pieces she's picked up at estate sales, off the street, flea markets, the whole nine. She's then sanded, repainted, remodeled, refurbished them -- for next to nothing. It's amazing. It gave me so much hope that I can do this!

Here's the mirror I bought ... I love it.

My head is spinning with all of the ideas it's giving me. Leeza is doing her Art thing for me and I can't wait to see what she comes up with; one of her ideas is to take some fabric she bought at IKEA and use them to cover some canvases to put on the wall. Loooove it. I think the funky fabric will be a great counterpoint to the scrolling in the mirror frame.

For more, go to Michelle's Etsy stores: The Cottage Way and Cottage Home Couture.

Incomunicado

The House of Bich remains Internet-less.

So, forgive the complete lack of pictures, blogging, etc. Also, as Rich has left all blogging and photo-taking to me, and I'm not addicted to technology, well, I don't have the patience required to blog while stealing someone else's access, which comes at a snail's pace.

Also, my phone broke. Again. So, for anyone who has tried to call, no, I didn't change my number or ignore your text. I probably haven't gotten it.

Will be back to it soon, o readers (of which there are, possibly, three). Hope your long weekend was a great one.