Not sure where we are going yet - thinking about renting an apartment in Chicago and buying another property in Key West. We'll need to see if the house can be sold.
879 Sheehan Avenue, Glen Ellyn, Il
This is a love letter to my house.
I love this house. We are the original owners of this house. Twenty years ago, we moved to 879 Sheehan Avenue with three young sons. I didn’t know anyone when we moved here, but I quickly became involved with neighborhood Bunco, Investment Club (ok--not such a good idea in 2008) and bowling league (better at investments than bowling). The community kept me busy with Kindermusik, Cub Scouts, School Board, and Church activities. The house still stands after many a slumber party for kids and holiday party for adults. The basement was a dream come true for a mother of three boys and a bad dog. My goal was to descend the steps as little as possible, and only when I suspected the necessity of an emergency vehicle.
The boys are grown now. The older two live in Los Angeles seeking fame and fortune. (I’ll settle for fortune.) The baby is going into his senior year of college. The bedrooms and basement are unoccupied and it is time for the house to have new parents. We are off to our exciting empty nesting adventure in life, but that doesn’t lessen the fact that we will miss this great house and wonderful neighborhood. We envy you who choose to move in. We will think about you as we sip our margaritas in Key West...
Friday, March 15, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Good News/Bad News
The Good News is that the dogs lived. The Bad News is that BOTH dogs lived.
Ok - I get it. The new/bad dog is NOT free. Why stop now?
I admit it. I do not know how to control this new/bad dog. Nuka rules this house like Queen Latifa on steroids. I am conquered but not a quitter. I am a believer in professional help for everything from home repairs to psychotherapy. Along that vein, I hired a certified dog trainer to come to the house yesterday. She is the Northern Illinois dog whisperer. For two and a half hours, she walked me through the appropriate training techniques. The dog sat, waited, yielded, dropped, left it, and came. By the end of the appointment, the dog was responding to cues like a champ. Calm and firm with my new found dog training skills, I clucked, commanded, then commended through the day with amazing results! Upon resting my head on the pillow last night, the dog crated and tucked in, I closed my eyes with the confidence of Cesar (the TV dog guy, not the Roman Emperor--spelled differently) himself.
Waking this am, still determined that I was master and commander and not a slave to the dog's schedule, I slept in until 7:40. I woke to a quiet house... no barking or whining. Maybe this was working!
Maybe not. Achilles and I went to the basement to get Nuka out of the crate. Comparable to Hurricane Sandy, she hurdled out of the box. In similar storm-like aftermath, the crate was completely flooded....pee everywhere. Ugh. I let the dogs out the basement door and turned to go clean up the soggy yellow bed and blankets. Guess what? Nuka didn't have to pee - already did that! So she refused to go off of the deck into the yard. Out I go, into the frozen tundra, in my socks and pj's, to shove her onto the yard. Ok--good---she is pooping... good catch on my part (I'm thinking). Achilles finishes all of his business and heads for the open door. Nuka sees the activity and mid sphincter squeeze, bolts back to the deck and into the house. She leaves a trail of poop nuggets in Hansel and Gretel fashion through the basement and up the stairs. I don't know what to tackle first... the pee or the poop. I elect to go bypass door number one and go for number two. I had no sooner gathered the paper towels and Resolve, when the brown whirling dervish zoomed past after having frantically guzzled potty water. I turned to reprimand her, but, just as I took a breath, she stopped just short of the door... and threw up.
Sigh..........
Ok - I get it. The new/bad dog is NOT free. Why stop now?
I admit it. I do not know how to control this new/bad dog. Nuka rules this house like Queen Latifa on steroids. I am conquered but not a quitter. I am a believer in professional help for everything from home repairs to psychotherapy. Along that vein, I hired a certified dog trainer to come to the house yesterday. She is the Northern Illinois dog whisperer. For two and a half hours, she walked me through the appropriate training techniques. The dog sat, waited, yielded, dropped, left it, and came. By the end of the appointment, the dog was responding to cues like a champ. Calm and firm with my new found dog training skills, I clucked, commanded, then commended through the day with amazing results! Upon resting my head on the pillow last night, the dog crated and tucked in, I closed my eyes with the confidence of Cesar (the TV dog guy, not the Roman Emperor--spelled differently) himself.
Maybe not. Achilles and I went to the basement to get Nuka out of the crate. Comparable to Hurricane Sandy, she hurdled out of the box. In similar storm-like aftermath, the crate was completely flooded....pee everywhere. Ugh. I let the dogs out the basement door and turned to go clean up the soggy yellow bed and blankets. Guess what? Nuka didn't have to pee - already did that! So she refused to go off of the deck into the yard. Out I go, into the frozen tundra, in my socks and pj's, to shove her onto the yard. Ok--good---she is pooping... good catch on my part (I'm thinking). Achilles finishes all of his business and heads for the open door. Nuka sees the activity and mid sphincter squeeze, bolts back to the deck and into the house. She leaves a trail of poop nuggets in Hansel and Gretel fashion through the basement and up the stairs. I don't know what to tackle first... the pee or the poop. I elect to go bypass door number one and go for number two. I had no sooner gathered the paper towels and Resolve, when the brown whirling dervish zoomed past after having frantically guzzled potty water. I turned to reprimand her, but, just as I took a breath, she stopped just short of the door... and threw up.
Sigh..........
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