Sunday, January 13, 2019


Growing up, thanks to having a sister and their parents limited mortgage borrowing power, my boys always shared a bedroom. Then, once we all weathered an unforeseen hospice journey in our new home, that extra room was offered to my eldest son; finally granting him a bedroom of his own. He was in his teens.

A creative soul since birth, Jukebox immediately decided he wanted to redecorate, and asked to paint his new space a very vibrant orange. Striving to prove that I wasn't a total control freak, I simply internalized my immediate anxiety attack, then agreed to his unconventional colour choice.

All these years later, though other rooms have received new flooring & updated colours, what's now my home office remains that popular fall colour that rhymes with no other. I suppose it's because I knew once I accepted the 'ultimate orange room renovation challenge', the rest of the house simply HAD to follow. 

You see, though I love the layout of my home, it's been blessed with 'popcorn ceilings'. An interior design (once considered somewhat sexy) plaster application, that was popular when every kid in the neighborhood had to be home before the street lights came on, and your mama wasn't afraid to spank you.

Though the crap in the home has been painted twice since the its purchase, I've known for years the retro look needed to go. So, with the help of YouTube and an ambitious renovation schedule, the now famous orange room officially lost its 1980's 'early heritage status' yesterday!

Wearing my fancy fur-lined CROCS were just one of my many renovation mistakes yesterday!
TAKEN: JANUARY 12th, 2019

After the experience, I would love to share that my plaster removal video training had me feeling the same euphoria that beautiful puppies & very expensive wine offer, yet that would be a bold-faced lie.

Even with my decision to outfit my chair in the ugliest fitted bed sheet destine for landfill, in a room draped in plastic that I swear could have been prepared by Dexter, things did not go as smoothly as planned.

Though I appreciate my YouTube video schooled me to spray water on the plaster before removing it, it did not warn against the true downside of doing so. Therefore, I gave said training video a thumbs down.

Why? The room, my hair, my clothing, my slippers, my skin were all covered in a paste like substance I magically, albeit, unexpectedly created. 

That said, my reason for my negative review was 100x's bigger than anything listed above.

You see, I always sing when I work.

And that stuff, though generally moist & bad in texture...

Tastes absolutely awful!!

Wednesday, January 9, 2019


In the deep winter of 2017, my yellow lab Puddin’ got the lead from her run tangled on one of the coldest nights in February. As always, I pulled her back in, this time realizing the majority of her 25 metre lead was still stuck in the frozen snowbank. Already frustrated, I became determine to finish the job.

After several forceful attempts freeing it, I backed up, dug in (yelled a really loud expletive) then with all my muscle heaved on that sucker with everything I had.

What happened next felt like I was in a cartoon. My force broke the leash from the ice, then and the slack came zipping my way with a serious zing. I began falling backward the more it let go.

Standing on a small landing at the top of the stairs, I started to lose my balance, realizing I was going to fall down the stairs. In slow motion, I felt my body gracefully tuck and roll, as I absorbed those six oak stairs.

Never letting go of the dog lead, the most damage done was when the large metal collar clasp bore all my weight between my middle and ring finger as it passed through with force. To this day, though never diagnosed, I believe I broke my left ring finger knuckle.

Here’s where my story enters into a 'this could only happen to Rhondi' zone.

(Left) A neat shot of us on the lake and the size of the diamond my dog ate!
(Right) Post event picture. My bad for letting the dog treat juice under my gem!!

Once my hand/finger healed, it became clear I was unable to remove my wedding ring set. Not a big deal, I figured my finger would eventually fully mend yet it never did. My circulation was fine, so I paid no attention; until a fateful day this past May.

I arrived home on a Friday night to greet my pups, when my Annie reaches up to gently tug at my fingers to throw her a stick. In the process, one of (what I believe to be) her incisors got underneath the setting of my half carat diamond solitaire, and in a nano-second it was gone.

I combed the grass for what felt like hours incase it had popped out of her mouth. I went back out the following couple of nights with a flashlight in hopes of seeing a sparkle. I even followed her around with a baggie for a week in hopes it landed where her lunch did: nothing.

Short story VERY long, I came to terms with the fact the diamond was gone forever, and cut off my engagement ring. I did however, leave the wedding band, with the hopes that after more than 30 years it could be salvaged.

Well, tonight I went back into the jewelry store and also had it cut off. As expected, it was an emotional end of an era, but at the end of the day we’d had a good ride.  I told the ladies that once I understood the underlying issues with my damaged knuckle, I’d be back to purchase another ring.

I told them that I’ve already decided on one ring with three diamonds. Primarily to pay homage to my life spent raising my three children, as well as my years with my three pups.

The one 'must have' I guarantee when I buy my new ring?

... A diamond flavour dogs DON'T love!