#Daisy was such a special puppy with a unique personality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

j--meat-hook--j · 4 years

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Round 1: Operation Smoked Ham

The assignment? Search and Destroy.

The target? Local Wolfsboone dog.

The location? A forest with a winding path.

The participants? A silent bacon-flavoured child and a flying, talking energy anomaly.

Andrew was carrying boar around the arms, like a reverse piggy-back. (heehoo) The two were idly flying above the forest looking for the path to ambush the unknown two they were going against.

“D-o you shee them Boar?” Andrew asked his friend and roommate, Boar.

Some taps later from Boar later. N-O

“Whe-re else you wannananana try?” Andrew stunted out.

Boar pointed to a deeper part of the forest and squeaked.

“Gocha.” Andrew followed Boar’s non-verbal directions. After some audible sniffs from Boar, they perked up and pointed.

“There?” Andrew asked. Boar nodded so quick they jostled Andrew a bit. Boar pointed and Andrew saw it too, the dirt path that the “heroes” were trekking on.

“Foun da path.” Andrew commented. Boar gave a few taps in agreement.

“Up or down?” Andrew asked Boar. Boar gave a few sniffs before pointing down the path, towards where the heroes would be starting.

Andrew responded silently and followed in Boar’s directions. He lowered closer to the ground, Boar’s toes were just touching the highest branches.

S-E-E. Boar signed with urgency. Andrew stopped and dipped close to the trees to hide from sight. Andrew spotted the silhouette, nothing special about it. No notable heat, density or unique appendages.

“Who?” Andrew asked, info was key.

K-A-Y-A-K-I. Boar signed.

“Oh. Who?” Andrew asked, that info did nothing.

F-R-I-E-N-D.. Boar signed.

“Oh. Who?” Things weren’t going well for Andrew, he recognised the name but not the silhouette.

N-O W-O-R-R-I-E-S. Boar signed.

“Wheres da ofer one?” Andrew struggled to verbalise.

A couple sniffs from Boar.

B-E-H-I-N-D. Boar signed.

“Drop you middle? Make lots of noise, I take care of dog.” Andrew asked. Boar nodded.

O-P S-H I-S A G-O. Boar signed with enthusiasm.

“Lessgo.” Andrew flew above the trees again and right over the dirt path, trying to get the attention of Kayaki.

It worked.

“Ki! We got incoming!” Kayaki called out behind her.

Andrew flew over Kayakii, he was looking for the other silhouette.

A double tap came from Boar, they spotted the other one. Boar gave three taps, then two, then one.

“See ya in a bit.” Andrew told Boar.

Operation Smoked Ham was a go.

Andrew let go of Boar, there was silence in the forest as Boar fell. Then came a loud CRUNCH as they landed. A small crater appeared where Boar landed, the sturdy kid was able to take the fall easily.

“Ki! I’m gonna need a hand!” Kayaki called out behind her.

Even Andrew could hear the rumble of hurried steps as Kirai approached, the dog following him with a wagging tail. “It’s me, I’m here, where are they?” Kirai said, getting into a comical fighting stance.

Kayaki pointed to Boar up close and then Andrew out in the distance.

“There.” She said.

Andrew had a whole speech prepared for this occasion. High up in the sky Andrew puffed out his chest, rubbed his hands together and did a slight cackle.

“Hear me feebew heroes! It appears you’ve stumbled into our trap, for you see my associate and I have the brains and brawn to-”

Meanwhile on the ground, the other three were just staring up at Andrew. Kayaki looked towards Boar in an attempt to get some insight. Boar responded with a shrug.

“He does know we can’t hear him right?” Kayaki said to Kirai.

Boar tapped their fingers together a couple times.

“HA! He does do that.” Kayaki giggled at Boar’s quick wits and impeccable delivery.

Kirai’s face looked like a squashed up sponge of confusion and slight regret.

Back at the sky,

“And fli’ it uhsie-down. Prince of Bel-Air style!” Andrew finished his monologue with great gusto and a beam of light in the sky.

Boar was still staring up at Andrew in a mix of wonder and disappointment.

“Means go!” Andrew shouted down, that time it was actually heard. Boar pinched down on their nose and nodded in a muddle of frustration and disbelief.

Boar took a deep breath and activated their Quirk, a blood red aura surrounded their body. Boar’s eyes sharpened on Kirai and they charged.

“Wait Boar we can talk ab-” Kirai cut himself off as he pulled a quick 180 and ran.

“Duck and weave Ki! Duck and weave!” Kayaki advised Kirai.

“I’m ducking! I’m weaving!” Kirai called back.

Boar wasn’t the fastest person in Taiyuu, a decent pace could outrun them, but with all of Kirai’s unnecessary ducking and weaving it was a pretty close match.

With all of the commotion happening below him, Andrew ever the sneaky boy, snuck over their heads towards the Very Important Pubby. Andrew descended slowly towards the good boy who was doing little tippy-taps on the ground in excitement.

Andrew came face to face with the dog, his target. With one good hit Andrew could end the whole exercise, just easy as that. But that would mean this poor tail-wagging, paw-tapping, excitedly barking dog had to get hurt, Andrew couldn’t do that.

Meanwhile, at the borderline bloodbath not 20 meters away Boar had caught up to Kirai.

It was brutal, Boar sledged Kirai in the face and did a spinning kick to Kayakis' side. Kirai tried to give Boar the old what-for in the form of a punch. It connected.

“Ow.” Said Kirai.

Kayaki jumped on Boar’s back like a spidermonkey, flailing around grabbing and pulling at whatever part of Boar she could get her hands on. Boar reached around, grabbed her with one hand and hit Kirai with Kayaki.

Meanwhile, at the place where morals go to die. Andrew gathered a large amount of his energy into his hand. Andrew’s right hand was glowing and shaking with condensed power. He raised his hand, ready to strike.

“Nebula.” Andrew called out the name of his Super-move and began to strike the dog, the resulting explosion being more than enough to snuff it from this semi-mortal-plantlike-hivemind coil.

“Barf! Barf!’ The puppy barked in excitement.

The condensed energy in Andrew’s hand began to fizzle out but his hand continued towards the dog. The lethal amount of energy contained in Andrew’s palm slowly extended out and formed fingers. The ticking time bomb of Andrew Energy scratched behind the ears of the dog.

“Who’s a goob boy.” Andrew said to the Booneswolf as he started scratching under the chin as well. The puppy responded by shaking its leg.

Meanwhile, at the beatdown of the century. Boar tripped Kayaki over with a properly timed leg sweep, Kayaki landed on her back with a thud. Kirai charged in for a kick to Boar’s ribs. Boar caught Kirai’s flying leg, raised it slightly and punched towards the man's Crown Jewels.

Across the island Wolfsboone let out a small breath of air through his teeth in sympathy.

A high pitched scream came from Kirai. Rip the homie. Boar shot their gaze over to Andrew and finally saw the tomfoolery that was afoot.

“Fech da shtick.” Andrew said to the dog and the boy threw the stick. The dog just looked at the thrown stick and back at Andrew with a small head tilt.

“Go on, fech.” Andrew encouraged.

Boar pulled out their handy-dandy phone for the first time today and frantically typed into it. Out of the phone came a flat sounding voice.

“God fucking dammit Andrew just kick the fucking dog.” The Text-to-speech said.

Andrew crossed his arms.

“Language.” He said.

An audible snap could be heard as Boar’s patience was through. The huffed over to Andrew and pointed at themselves and then the dog. Then Boar pointed at Andrew followed by Kayaki and Kirai.

“We swappin dance partners?” Andrew asked. Boar slowly nodded their head.

“Fine. But please don’t hurt Daisy too much.” Andrew asked his roommate and friend.

Kayaki dazedly looked up from the ground at Kirai.

“Hey, Kirai. You wanna do that thing where you get really mad and unlock a new power.” Kayaki said to the near unconscious Kirai.

Kirai let out a small squeak.

“Don’t you fuckin ignore me.” Kayak said, so done with this shit.

Andrew floated over to the two.

“Pleash don’t ge’ up. Then I’ll hafta blast ya.” Andrew asked his two enemies.

“I’m gonna get up.” Said Kayaki. “Pleash don.” Andrew said.

“I’m gonna do it, and I’m gonna help Kirai get up too.” Kayaki said.

“I don’ wanna blast ya.” Andrew pleaded.

“You can just let us get up.” Kayaki said, slumping up from the ground.

“No, bu’ I can’.” Andrew said.

“You can.” Kayaki said, getting onto one knee.

“I’ll havta stop you using my villanous teknees.” Andrew said.

“Like what?” Kayaki said, helping Kirai up onto his feet.

“I’ll, uh, leave a puddew so yah soc’s geh weh.” Andrew said so very evily.

“You monster!” Kayaki said, having Kirai lean on her shoulder.

“....Now hol on. Haf I been blundered? Haf I been swindled? You were jus stallin for time wif dat whole convers-a-tion weren’t you!” Andrew stumbled out.

“Yeah.” Kayaki said. “Now Imma hafta blast ya.” Andrew said, the condensed energy in his hand swirling around and around.

“Okay, Kirai.” Kayaki slapped both sides of Kirai’s face. Kirai cracked open an eye.

“Yeah.” Kirai said, his voice noticeably higher than previously.

“Andrew’s gonna fire a giant laser at us, you need to absorb it and fire it back at him.” Kayaki informed Kirai.

“No. Cards.” Kirai said with a slight squeak.

“Don’t worry, I brought leaves.” Kayaki said, shoving a handful of leaves in Kirai’s hands.

“Hate you. Hate you both.” Kirai said, leaning off of Kayaki and standing on his two feet.

Andrew's hand had finished condensing the energy, instead of the full fingered hand he had earlier it was now a swirling galaxy of an appendage.

“Quasar.” Andrew said the name of his supermove and let it loose at Kirai and Kayaki. A bright beam of light shot towards the two K-friends.

“Kirai, you have to try.” Kayaki said with emphasis.

“Kay. I’ll try.” Kirai said, holding the leaves out in front of him. He braced himself for the impact.

As Andrew’s laser neared Kirai’s bundle of leaves, the leaves emitted a black hole like effect and absorbed Andrew’s laser. The leaves in Kirai’s hands started sparkling a light Andrew Blue colour.

“Wha. Gib dat back!” Andrew shouted at Kirai angrily, that beam was technically Andrew.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Kirai said, just as surprised as Andrew. Kirai thrust out the leaves and the same beam Andrew fired out shot out of them.

“Oh, I get it.” Andrew said right before he got nailed in the chest by his own redirected laser. The impact sent Andrew flying back.

Kayaki and Kirai looked at each other, back at the knocked back Andrew, back at each other, back at the still out of control Andrew and back at each other.

“I’m the best aren’t I.” Kirai said to Kayaki.

“Yep, mmhmm.” Kayaki responded.

Meanwhile, at the dog vs Boar action. Boar had just finished up with Daisy, the dog, whatever. They deactivated their quirk and walked over to Kirai and Kayaki. Kirai jumped back and hid behind Kayaki.

Boar pulled out their phone again and started tapping away.

“Sorry about that, Kirai. No hard feelings? I’ll make it up to you.” The Text-To-Speech said on Boar’s phone.

Kayaki and Kirai looked at Boar suspiciously.

“You’ve still got a bit left to make up for Boar.” Kirai said, a cat in his lap and a cat on his head.

“I’m sorry, I just got lost in my anger.” Boar’s T-T-S said as the actual Boar took a sip of tea.

“You lost? You lost? I lost something.” Kirai said, taking a bite of one of Kayaki’s biscuits.

Andrew was still a little sad about Daisy, but Boar treated the group to a cat-cafe so overall today was a win.

#bnha oc #taiyuu oct #andrew meda #meda andrew #kokoro boar #kirai nahito #zuruko kayaki #first draft fuckers

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fortunatelyholydreamer-blog1 · 4 years

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Ways to Remember Your Pet After It Has Passed On

Actually, if you are an unusual person, while tightening your soft new puppy, you are wondering how to remember your pet after passing. In such a moment filled with life, death comes to mind. We usually live knowing that our pets have immortality, but our hearts know that they can pass very well before we do our work. Get the best unique girl dog names here.

I remember the day our adult daughter's dog Daisy died. The two had lived together for twelve years. Our daughter offered her 40 pounds of daisy warm, handmade clothes. He approached Daisy and taught her the intricacies of everyday life. He cared for Daisy with several illnesses including cancer, which eventually led to her surrendering her pet. As the end drew to a close, she made arrangements with the local veterinarian for immediate shop and final support arrangements during the last hours of her pet's life. However, no one suspected that Daisy would die early in the morning. Daisy just died comfortably and the tears of her lifelong human companion.

Our daughter was drowning in mourning. In the morning he consulted a vet. Daisy's body went to the vet's office fee for the funeral, and our daughter only kept her memories. He soon realized that he needed a solid, visual way to remember his pet. We wanted to gift him a kind of souvenir and were looking for ways to remember his pets.

Ways to remember your pet after it has passed

The number of views shocked us. Some suggested burying domesticated ashes in animal cemeteries and building an outdoor memorial. Some believe that a memorable service is a great way to remember your pet. Others said that they were committed, e.g. B. Share your love for your pet with other pets, volunteer at a shelter or help older people with their pets. There were many ways to remember your pet after it passed, but none of it was what we wanted him to be - a constant "memorial" like Daisy.

Some ideas were right for goldfish. Some were perfect for cats or dogs. There are also ways to remember your pet after passing a pony or horse. I imagine that if you look long enough you may also find a way to remember the dead elephant.

Let me give you five more ideas that we have found.

If you own your own property then create a memorial garden. Make it as simple or complex as you want. Choose a quiet place away from foot traffic and plant some flowers. Add a smooth flat stone, on which you have painted your pet's name. You can also add a stone or metal sculpture to your pet breed. As you take care of the garden, you will remember your favorite pet.

- Create a custom photo frame for your pet with your name and fill it with favorite photos of cats, dogs, etc. If you want to let someone else do the work, search the Internet for custom souvenir photo frames, or find common frames you can find. Includes a photo of love and the happiest days with your pet.

- Place your pet ash box on the box shelf, but make a special box out of it. (I knew a woman who put two piles (two dogs and three cats) of five simple busses on a shelf! Remember your pet with a special poem in front of the pet.

- Remember your pet cheaply after sharing, reuse your pet's ID tag. You can add it to a handmade bracelet quickly and easily. Or attach a pet ID tag to the key ring you take with you when you leave the house. If you do not have one, you can order it with your dog's name and a symbol that often reminds you.

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#pet

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sunshinewhale · 6 years

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an oxeye daisy

he loves me, he loves me not.

pairing: minhyuk x reader pov: unnamed reader, second person, mostly past tense

genre: angst word vomit: ~2800

warnings: i’m just writing the same stuff in different words and different situations. lol.

notes: not proofread. i was trying to do something small and short and quick but it turned into a monster. this was only supposed to be ~500 words.

Autumn wind caresses your skin with soft chills, but it pales in comparison to the frozen wasteland in your empty chest. It’s numb. The playground before you is flowing with youth and joyful screams of delight. It’s not as contagious as you thought it would be.

A child comes up to you. She clutches a tangled garden of flowers in her chubby hands, and specks of dirt glitter on her dress coat. Shyly, she offers one out to you. Your numbness thaws a little at the way her small baby fingers are clumsy and unpracticed.

You smile and thank her, taking the flower by the stem. You twirl it in your fingers and tell her it’s pretty and that she’s even prettier. The child beams with unrestrained glee and runs back towards the playground with a bounce in her steps.

Your sight focuses on the flower again, and it’s anything but pretty.

It’s withering. The stem is crumpled and bent horribly out of shape. The petals are carelessly smushed, discoloured and ruined at the tips. It was well on the way to death’s door before it was unearthed from its roots in the name of childish innocence.

A wild wave of nostalgia overcomes you. You wish you could to return to the honeyed fairy tales of childhood, when you didn’t understand how something as good and pure as love could ruthlessly maim beating hearts.

You run your finger over the wispy petals, and gingerly pluck one off.

He loves me.

And another.

He loves me not.

Another.

He loves me.

Minhyuk burst into your life on a somber spring day. He had carried the sun on his shoulders like he was meant to illuminate your starless sky.

You were strangers, then. At best, friends of friends, though you weren’t really sure what Kihyun considered Minhyuk to be.

That didn’t stop him.

He was so alight with life. He glowed with the watercolours of sunrise and the universe seemed to bloom into existence under his fingertips. He chattered on about anything and everything, weaving a unique melody of thrill and mischief that tickled your ears. The world excited him, the ordinary amazed him, and he wanted to share his exhilaration with you. It was annoying, but it was so annoyingly endearing.

“You don’t understand! Listen to me,” he said breathlessly, wonderstruck and awe thrumming in his voice. “We’re in such a boundless galaxy with years and years of history and look! We’ve meet here, in the same time and at the same place! That’s a miracle in itself! Wouldn’t it be such a shame if we don’t become friends?”

You remember feeling something in your wary heart stir, for the first time. Minhyuk had made a mere crack at the edge of your steel fortress, but it was enough for a trickle of his warmth to seep through and reach the slumbering eros beneath.

He loves me not.

Sworn to secrecy under the velvet moon, he confided that you weren’t exactly his type. Not that he really had a type, he hurried to explain, because types are such an inflexible concept and everyone is worth loving anyway, but he was furiously drawn to people who painted their souls vividly with emotion and wore vulnerability like golden armour.

You wore it like weakness.

He had thought you were solid diamond. Almost too unapproachable, too stiff, too aloof, too alike Kihyun. The lover in him ached, throbbing at the far distance you had withdrawn into yourself. He wanted to show you the magic the world hid in plain sight, but he had only meant to become your friend. He had a difficult time with guarded hearts that refused to flower in the sincerity of spring.

He loves me.

But then, he confessed, he saw how he made you smile for the first time, so silently sweet because you thought he wasn’t watching, and he fell just a little bit in love. He coaxed you to laugh for the first time and he fell a little bit harder. His heart swelled to the heavens and it couldn’t decide between skipping beats or beating faster when he began to realize how effortless your smiles and your laughter came for him, and only for him. Like the North star dazzling amongst billions of other identical stars, he felt so, so special.

One day, he watched you as your eyes hooked onto him in a sea of strangers. He watched as your face lit up in an indescribable, iridescent glow and the way your lips smoothly curled upwards in unrestrained beauty, and he fell completely, utterly, hopelessly.

“It was so enchanting, I couldn’t control it at all,” he breathed love against your lips, “I thought, we were definitely meant to be more than friends. I yearned to become yours.”

You placed your fingers over the heat of his heart, and you traced your name on his moonlit skin, as if you were searing it into memory.

“Is this mine, then?”

“Only yours,” he took your hand into his, and kissed his declaration into your soul as the night and all its stars bore witness, “and don’t you dare give it back.”

He loves me not.

You had hardened the outer layers of your heart into stone because you wanted to protect yourself against the dangers of unbridled passion, of loving and being loved in return. Minhyuk had given himself to you in sweet surrender, but you were reluctant to throw yourself in wholly. Just the very idea of loving entirely, emotionally, unconditionally, had always been difficult for you.

But Minhyuk made it so ridiculously easy.

He settled into your daily life as naturally as the sun rose at dawn and set at dusk. Whale-shaped cushions made themselves home on your couch, another coffee mug in the kitchen, an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. You fell into silken bedsheets with him each night, and you woke up to his handsomeness each morning. You were budding, bountiful and bright, allowing your roots to tangle with his as you bloomed thornless red roses and white ivy without poison.

You had stars in your eyes, and you were drowning in everything about Minhyuk.

His adorable uneven blink. The husky pitch of his voice. The precious crinkles of his eyes. The puppy-like curve of his smile. His large, warm hands.

His laughter was pure sunshine after the rain. He kissed like fresh dewdrops sparkling on the grass during sunrise, and embraced you securely like the way the summer sea hugged the horizon. His silly antics brightened even the bleakest of your days, and you’ve never felt so saturated with colour.

Minhyuk almost had you entirely. Almost. You were barely able to hold a small part of yourself back, but your sanity demanded you to do it. It was your last line of defence, your last hope before the ground underneath you gave way to raw vulnerability. It was small enough that it would’ve been inconsequential, but like everything else about you, he had noticed.

“You’re so enduringly careful, so cautious,” he asked into the dim light of the rising morning, “have you been hurt before?”

You tensed. Your shoulders curled into yourself out of defense, and unconsciously, you turned away from him slightly.

“No, but I’m afraid of being hurt. My heart is weak, and if I hurt I will shatter and I won’t know how to pick up the pieces and put myself back together,” your half-whispers had barely sounded in the soft silence, “that makes me afraid of you, too.”

He pulled you into his arms to unravel you, to undo the insecure knots you had wound yourself into. Minhyuk touched his forehead against yours, patiently coaxing you to look at him, and with little resistance, you locked onto his unwavering gaze.

You had nearly forgotten how to breathe.

His pupils were crystal clear and unbearably sincere. You saw endless love reflected in them, and then, you saw yourself.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he sweared, and his voice promised you eternity, “I’ll be careful, too. I won’t hurt you.”

He paused, body stilling. His eyes widened round, like he suddenly had a life-changing revelation.

“Oh my god, I would even eat a cucumber for you.”

Minhyuk had made a face, his nose scrunched in disgust as if the very thought of eating the cursed vegetable brought him pain. You remember your fear washing away into the unknowns of the ocean, genuine fondness bubbling in its place as you promised you would never subject him to such cruelty.

He loves me.

Without even trying, he left his traces on your forever.

He was the love you dreamed about in childish fantasies, the one that lived in every fairytale and every myth, every legend. The love that made mere mortals defy gods, destroyed kings and brought great empires to war and to fall into ruin. He was the love that made miracles that you could never even imagine, happen.

And miracle, he did. Minhyuk made quick work and smoothly demolished down every last barrier that shielded your heart from the world. He didn’t leave a single brick behind in his wake. Your heart was beating naked on your sleeve, bearing his name in bolded love letters.

Your heart was so in bliss you could barely contain yourself.

“I was so reserved, Minhyuk, wasn’t it hard? I think I was hard to love.”

He chuckled at your query, a mischievous glint in his laughter as he teased, “I’m not going to lie, you’re still a little hard to love. I’m amazing, I know.”

You pouted, and amusement shook his shoulders. Adoration oozed from his entire being as he patted your cheek like he was consoling a spoiled child, but the slight scrunch of his brow told you he was giving it some serious thought.

“It was a little hard, but the hardest thing was convincing you to let me love you. Compared to that, loving you came so, so easily.”

He cradled your face as if he was holding the most precious treasure in his hands. His eyes lowered as his voice grew tender, “but you know, when I saw the beginnings of love in your eyes, I knew it was worth everything. “

“You’re worth everything,” he repeated, and his lips found yours.

He loves me not.

Spring came to an end. Spring always came to an end.

On the water’s surface, there wasn’t a single flaw. Stars never stopped twinkling in your eyes whenever you caught his gaze, and you were constantly a crisp reflection in his. Kihyun had begun to joke about being invited to your summer wedding. Minhyuk was beyond delighted that someone else saw you so clearly in his future, and you took the idea as naturally as the changing season. Love firmly rooted you two together, and in unending selflessness, both of you would do anything for each other.

Maybe, there were warning signs hanging in the air all along, like small ripples that sailors paid no mind. Maybe, the hazy promises of love had made you two both willfully blind.

Minhyuk was the perfect child of fate and destiny, and you were the other side of the coin, ingrained in choice and chances. His heart was big and his love limitless, he gave too much and at times, it felt too intense. There was too much to bear. On your worst days, you wanted him to give less, to meet your needs halfway and give you a chance to breathe. You didn’t mind suffocating in his soul, but you were new in your steps and you had just learned to trust yourself in the hands of another. For you, this territory was unfamiliar, still strangely foreign. He mistook that for doubt because you didn’t feel secure enough in his embrace, so he gave you even more.

Maybe, that was your downfall.

He loves me.

You knew Minhyuk would never leave you because he had promised you forever, and that was simply an absolute truth. Every last cell in his body was willing to follow you in eternal vow, everything else be damned.

You are worth everything, his words had echoed in your mind.

No matter what Minhyuk thought, you weren’t everything.

You couldn’t be everything.

So beneath, the current was turbulent. In a book of relationships, there was a page you two just couldn’t agree on. He continued to pour his love onto you until his veins were dry and his pulse was weak with exhaustion, and he still insisted it wasn’t enough. Because you understood Minhyuk and his good intentions, you let his love fill you until it ached raw and wounded. You readily endured it even though the fullness bruised you, the blood underneath your skin silently screaming too much.

Like a sluggish toxin, love’s name gradually became weary and loving put a heavy strain on both of you. However much you and Minhyuk were willing, you knew it wasn’t right. The flowers of your roses began to wilt, but the vines thrived, growing sharp thorns. Your ivy buds shrivelled, feeding sickeningly sweet poison instead of honey nectar.

You knew, then.

When the sun dipped below the skyline and it began raining on the last day of spring, you murdered his beating heart.

“We’ve been trying too hard, Minhyuk, maybe we’re meant to just be friends.”

Your eyes had already been wet before the words even left you. Fear settled into the lines of his face as he reached out for you, to console you, to hold you and deny you of what he knew you intended to do. He tucked your head into the curve of his neck, and his fingers curled into you desperately like you would disappear if he let you go.

The comfort of his warmth broke you, and in a shuddering breath, you grieved in his arms. Your tears burned stains into his skin, and in an instant, you felt new wetness that didn’t belong to you.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” his voice cracked, and his hands shook as they cradled your face, “you can’t cry because of me.”

Then Minhyuk had cried too, until his eyes turned bloodshot and his throat was hoarse with heartbreak.

“I love you,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry I ended up hurting you, I’m sorry I wasn’t careful enough, I’m so sorry—”

“You were careful. You didn’t hurt me. Maybe, it just hurts to love, but I chose to love you regardless,” you kissed his watery eyelids and ignored the sting of fresh tears at the back of your eyes, “I know you’ve been hurting too. We did our best.”

The sound of his weeping heart rang in your ears. It didn’t want to let go, and in all the truths of the universe, neither did you.

One of the truths deafened you to his pain, gripped your hand and forced you to go.

What you want isn’t always what you need, the truth had said, what he wants isn’t always what he needs.

Minhyuk had promised he would never hurt you, and it was you that made him a liar.

He loves me not.

You had blinked, and autumn arrived at your doorstep.

Your life seems even bleaker than when you first met him. Your vision is colourless and your eyes cannot adjust to the vibrancy of the warm tones of harvest. All you can think of are of wilted leaves, barren trees, and dying flowers that have been robbed of too much time.

The skies are thick with cloudy misery, and the mornings are starting to darken into longer nights. You hardly see sunlight on the sidewalk, nowadays.

Even if it’s somewhere else, you hope the sun is still shining.

He loves me.

You hope he’s alright.

You hope the gaping wound you left him as a parting gift has healed.

He loves me not.

You hope he has his head held high and he’s found light and life in autumn.

He loves me.

(He deserves to be happy, more than anyone else.)

He loves me not—

Your fingers tremble.

There’s a single petal remaining, limply hanging on the flower in your hands.

He loves me.

Bitterness claws up your throat and you can’t help but smile dryly at the cruelness of the universe. Familiar wetness stings your eyes and you breathe away the urge to cry.

You’ve should’ve known better than to think just loving would be enough.

The petals scattered at your feet look like fragmented pieces of memories from your spring. You watch as the autumn breeze picks up and carries them away.

You crouch down and carelessly cover the flower and the lone petal with loose earth. You bury Minhyuk and his starry kisses and sunlit smiles. You bury the what ifs and the maybes and the it could have beens.

It doesn’t matter, anymore.

His shattered heart is already six feet under.

#monsta x #monsta x imagines #monsta x fanfic #minhyuk #monsta x x reader #angst #minesw

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centralparkpawsblog · 5 years

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Taste of the Wild vs Orijen

https://www.centralparkpaws.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/Princess-pup-demands-high-quality-good-tasting-dry-dog-food.jpg Taste of the Wild (TotW) versus Orijen, who will win?

In our household, we’ve tried more than 50% of the different popular brands, and some not so popular.

Our household is made up of dogs with food allergies (Sophie and Calvin), heart disease (Daisy), Cushing Disease (Daisy and Sophie), high energy (Ginger), seniors, and picky eaters.

Finding a dog food that works for everyone can be pretty tricky.

There have been a select few that work for everyone, but more often we have multiple kinds of dog food in the pantry.

Picking the right food has become a more daunting task for many dog parents.

Why Should You Choose a High-Quality Dog Food?

I remember a time when buying dog food was as easy as throwing a bag of dog food in your grocery cart.

You should choose high-quality, delicious dog food because your prince or princess is worth it

Unfortunately, the ease and convenience of those days are gone for most of us.

With so many special needs and dog food varieties, the combination options are astronomical. Every dog is unique, and most have special dietary needs due to:

Size

Age

Health – GI Issues, disease, allergies, etc.

Weight (Both gain and loss)

Breed (German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers, and Goldendoodles shouldn’t always eat the same food)

Activity Level

It’s incredible how many variables need to meet to come up with the right food for your dog.

With so many brands and recalls, it’s hard to know which one is the best choice to go with.

VarietyFirst IngredientProteinRatingPrice Taste of the Wild High PrairieBuffalo32%4.1$$ Check Price Taste of the Wild Pacific StreamSalmon25%4.3$$ Check Price Taste of the Wild Sierra MountainLamb25%4.3$$ Check Price Orijen OriginalChicken38%4.3$$$ Check Price Orijen Six FishAtlantic Whole Mackerel38%4.0$$$$ Check Price Orijen Regional RedBeef38%4.0$$$$$ Check Price

Taste of the Wild

Taste of the Wild Company History

Diamond Pet Company carries many different brands, one of which is Taste of the Wild.

The company started back in 1970 by two brothers-in-law and has grown quite rapidly.

Even though TotW has become a substantially large company, it has remained family owned since the beginning.

TotW has plants from California to South Carolina, with a few more in between. They have 5 manufacturing locations in total.

TotW uses sustainable and humanely raised ingredients. The formulas were developed based on a canines’ ancestral dietary requirements.

The commitment TotW makes to their customers is that it manufactures “…a high-quality, yet affordable pet food option.”

If you’re interested in learning more about this dog food brand, we reviewed Taste of the Wild in-depth here!

Taste of the Wild Varieties

TotW currently offers 9 different dry dog food varieties.

Of those foods, some are specifically tailored to the needs of small breeds and puppies.

Taste of the Wild 3 Best Sellers of Dry Dog Food:

High Prairie – Roasted Bison and Venison

Pacific Stream – Smoked Salmon

Sierra Mountain – Roasted Lamb

More Varieties at Amazon

More Varieties at Chewy

Orijen

Orijen Company History

Orijen is one of two brands created by Champion Pet Foods, which originated in Canada. It was founded by Reinhard Muhlenfeld in 1985.

Exporting goods from Canada has not a common practice, but with aid from the Canadian government, Champion Pet Foods has been quite successful in selling their dog food globally.

Orijen’s approach to marketing is a bit unconventional.

Orijen doesn’t utilize traditional marketing plans but instead relies on their outside sales force and word of mouth.

Orijen Varieties

Orijen has 8 different dry dog food varieties, not including their freeze-dried food line.

Orijen Family Pet Food 3 Best Sellers of Dry Dog Food:

Original

Six Fish

Regional Red

More Varieties at Amazon

Recalls and Lawsuits

Taste of the Wild

Diamond Pet Food has had several recalls, though TotW has only had a single incident in May of 2012.

The recall was for salmonella contamination at the plant in South Carolina. Dry dog food was the only one with contamination issues.

The production codes needed to be checked to verify if the food had salmonella issues. Food with codes having a 2 or 3 in the 9th space and an X in the next space were part of the recall.

Corrections to the manufacturing plants were successful in ensuring future issues did not arise.

However, there are two lawsuits filed against Diamond Pet Food specifically around the TotW brand.

Note that anybody can file a lawsuit and they are not evidence of guilt until ruled so by a judge

The two lawsuits are similar in nature, the first one was in August 2018 and the second one was filed in February 2019. The 2018 suit accuses TotW of food contamination in the following three varieties:

Prairie Canine Formula Roasted Bison and Roasted Venison Dry Dog Food

Pacific Stream Canine Formula Smoked Salmon Dry Dog Food

Puppy Formula Grain-Free.

The 2019 suit involves five varieties:

Prairie Canine Formula Roasted Bison and Roasted Venison Dry Dog Food

Pacific Stream Canine Formula Smoked Salmon Dry Dog Food

Prairie Puppy Formula Grain-Free

Southwest Canyon with Beef in Gravy

Southwest Canyon with Wild Boar

Both lawsuits allege the foods are contaminated with pesticides, heavy metal (arsenic, lead, mercury, and cadmium), acrylamide, and BPA.

Orijen

Orijen has not had any recalls in the United States.

Coincidentally, Orijen also had a lawsuit for similar contamination claims as TotW. This lawsuit was filed in March of 2018 but was later dismissed in February of 2019.

TotW’s lawsuits may end the same way.

What’s Important When Choosing a Dog Food?

There are several things to consider when looking for the perfect dog food.

Often, we talk about ingredients, and that’s a big part of the decision-making process, but it isn’t the only thing to take into account.

Where the food is manufactured

Where the ingredients are sourced

Availability

Taste (What your dog thinks!)

Price

Ingredients

Your dog’s individual needs (See list above)

Comparison of Taste of the Wild vs. Orijen

Ingredients

Winner: Orijen

These two brands have many similarities which made them fun to compare.

They both fashion their food on the more primal needs of our dogs, they both are grain free, and both brands are protein focused.

In addition to the philosophies behind their food they both outline, in the guaranteed analysis section, the Omega-6 & 3 fatty acid content.

Orijen

Orijen designed their recipes to be 85% prime animal protein, 15% fruit and vegetables, and 0% grains and potatoes.

All of their foods are packed with superfoods like pumpkin, kale, and spinach.

Also, Orijen has included pumpkin and sunflower seeds in their recipes. They use a variety of beans and lentils to make up for the lack of traditional grains and potatoes.

Their guaranteed analysis reflects 38% minimum protein, which is substantially higher than most dog foods, including TotW. Another thing Orijen does that many other dog food companies shy away from is use organ meat in their foods.

Organ meats may sound icky, but they are healthy and nutritious.

The aspect of this food I don’t like is the lack of traditional carbohydrates. Many dogs need grains and easily digestible potatoes.

Taste of the Wild

TotW includes potatoes and lentils in their foods to make up for the lack of grains. They have also included potato and pea flour in place of wheat or rice flours.

The first two ingredients in their best sellers are high-quality animal proteins, and though it does have some fruits and vegetables it’s nothing compared to Orijen’s list of superfoods.

Price and Value

Winner: Taste of the Wild

This was an easy pick.

Their food is in line with their goals of being of an excellent dog food at a low price. The average cost per pound for TotW is under two dollars while the average cost per pound for Orijen is over four dollars!

Availability

Winner: Taste of the Wild

TotW is available in most pet food retail stores, both in person and online.

They are even found in some hardware stores, doggy daycares, specialty grocery stores, and vet clinics.

Orijen has similar availability in pet stores, but they cannot be found in grocery or hardware stores, only in pet-focused retail locations or online.

And even then, not at as many online retailers.

Taste

Winner: Orijen

Almost a tie, but because I had to choose (Daisy hasn’t learned how to write or speak English yet), Orijen wins by a small margin.

I believe it was the unique kinds of proteins that gave Orijen that extra push.

The X Factor

Winner: Orijen

Orijen offers specially formulated recipes for seniors, puppies, and a weight management variety.

Also, Orijen’s fatty acid content is significantly higher than most dog foods.

As an added bonus, they have added chondroitin and glucosamine into their recipes!

Overall

Winner: Taste of the Wild

Orijen is in a class all of its own. With the high-end ingredients, the extreme levels of protein, and the abundance of superfoods, it’s hard to beat.

If you can afford to give your pupper a tiara, then Orijen is priced right for you

But like we mentioned before, ingredients aren’t everything.

Though Orijen can justify the price, it does make it cost prohibitive to the majority of dog owners. Especially if you own multiple dogs!

Taste of the Wild is a reasonably priced dog food and has the added benefit of being easy to find.

TotW is a quality dog food with an appropriate protein content that’s more suited to dogs with an average or activity level.

However, if your dog needs a high protein diet, such as working, sporting, or extremely athletic dogs, Orijen would be the best option.

Also, if your dog would benefit from the higher fatty acid, chondroitin, and glucosamine levels, such as dogs with arthritis or extremely active dogs, then Orijen would also be the better option.

The post Taste of the Wild vs Orijen appeared first on Central Park Paws.

from https://www.centralparkpaws.net/dog-food/taste-of-the-wild-vs-orijen/

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newcheapthankyougifts-blog · 6 years

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Unbelievable Facts About Cheap Thank You Gifts

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ads4servicepro · 3 years

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Ways to Remember Your Pet After It Has Passed On

You would be an unusual person indeed if, snuggling your soft new puppy, you thought about ways to remember your pet after it has passed on. The thought of death rarely crosses a person's mind at such a wriggling, full-of-life moment. We usually live as though our pets possess immortality, but our hearts know they may very well pass on before we do.

I remember so well the day our adult daughter's dog, Daisy passed on. The two had accompanied each other constantly for twelve years. Our daughter provided warm, handmade clothing for her 40-pound Daisy. She socialized Daisy and trained her in the niceties of everyday life. She nursed Daisy through many illnesses, including the cancer to which her pet finally succumbed. As the end neared, she arranged with a local veterinarian for immediate pickup and final assistance through the closing hours of her pet's life. No one suspected, however, that Daisy's death would occur in the wee small hours of the morning. Daisy passed on with nothing more than the tender comforts and copious tears of her lifelong human companion.

Our daughter sank into the depths of grief. With morning, she contacted the veterinarian. Daisy's body made the trip to the vet's office for cremation, and our daughter held only her memories. She soon realized that she wanted a concrete, visible way to remember her pet. We wanted to give her some kind of memorial gift, and began looking for ways to remember her pet.

WAYS TO REMEMBER YOUR PET AFTER IT HAS PASSED ON

The number of ideas astounded us. Some people suggested burying the pet's cremated ashes in a pet cemetery and erecting an outdoor memorial. Some felt that a memorial service provided a good way to remember your pet. Others listed self-involvement such as sharing the love you felt for your pet with other animals, volunteering at an animal shelter, or helping the elderly with their pets. There appeared to be many ways to remember your pet after it has passed on, but none of them fulfilled what we wanted - a "memorial" as constant as Daisy had been.

Some ideas were right for a goldfish. Some were suited to either cat or dog. There were even ways to remember your pet pony or horse after it has passed on. I imagine that if you looked long enough, you might even find ways to remember a deceased elephant.

Let me give you five other ideas we found.

- Create a memory garden if you own your own property. Make it as simple or elaborate as you wish. Choose a quiet spot away from foot traffic and plant a few flowers. Add an attractive flat stone on which you've painted your pet's name. You might also add a stone or metal statue of your pet's breed. As you maintain the garden, you will remember your beloved pet.

- Craft a custom picture frame of your pet with its name, and fill it with a favorite photo of the cat, dog, etc. If you'd rather let someone else do the work, try looking on the Internet for custom memorial photo frames, or find a generic frame you love and insert a photo of one of the happiest days with your pet.

- Place a box of your pet's ashes on a shelf, but make it a special box. (I knew a woman who piled five plain boxes on a shelf (two dogs and three cats)! You can order a beautiful wooden, laser engraved urn with a photo of your pet, its name, and dates etched on the top. You might even remember your pet with a special poem etched on the box front.

- For an inexpensive way to remember your pet after it has passed on, repurpose your pet's ID tag. You can add it quickly and easily to a handmade bracelet. Or attach the pet ID tag to a key ring that you take with you every time you leave home. If you have none, you can order one featuring your dog's name and a symbol that will often bring memories to mind.

- Order a mobile decal memorial for your bike or vehicle. These window decals often memorialize human loved ones, but also provide a way to remember your pet after it has passed on.

My personal choice?

GLASS PET CREMATION JEWELRY

Of the many ways to remember your pet after it has passed on, I love the handmade, custom pet cremation ash pendants. Glass pet cremation jewelry is not all created equal, of course. Many pieces are factory-made and lack the individual warmth you and your pet shared.

The best pet cremation jewelry gives you a warm, unique way to remember a warm, unique pet with whom you loved life and explored the world in which you lived. Glass pet cremation jewelry transforms a portion of your pet's cremated ashes into an artistic expression of your love for him or her. You could leave the ashes in a box on the shelf, of course, as suggested above. You wouldn't be able to carry the box with you, however. You might only see the memorial when you dusted it each week.

Glass pet cremation jewelry takes a small portion of your pet's ashes, melts them within smooth, hot glass, and presents you with a beautiful piece of wearable art.

My favorite pet cremation jewelry is a striking red paw-print pendant, hand-fashioned by the professional artist at https://psychecremationjewelry.com/cremation-jewelry/glass-cremation-pendants/red-pawprint-cremation-pendant.

This is simply stunning! You must see it! It makes a perfect way to remember your pet after it has passed on. Its beauty shows others, too, how much you loved your non-human companion.

When you wear this particular pet cremation pendant, you and your admiring friends will marvel at its beauty and speculate as to how the artist managed to get that perfect, tiny paw print inside the glass. How did he make it appear to float among your pet's ashes and the blue glass? Suspended from its black satin cord, this amazing glass pendant rests flat against your body, keeping memories of your deceased pet close.

The artist provides for those who never wear pendants as well. A man may order a glass cremation marble containing ashes from his unforgettable pet.

You are not limited to one memorial, either. When a pet passes on, more than one family member will miss it. You can order a variety of these artistic pet cremation pendants, or order identical ones for each member of the family.

The artist has provided a simple kit for you to use. He mails it to you when you order. You just place one scoop (about 1/4 tsp) of ashes in the small jar he sends for each memorial you order. You put the jar in his prepaid mailing envelope. You may also add photos or written memories of the pet you want to remember. The artist promises to review everything before making your custom memorials. You drop the prepaid envelope in the mail, and if you have questions, ask the artist directly without any customer service or middleman.

Mark, the artist at adsthumb.com gives a hint of the care he will give your personal pet cremation ash jewelry when he writes, "After experiencing the loss of 3 close friends and my big tom cat Leo, I decided to put my skills to use in the service of others who'd lost people and pets close to them." That attitude makes these pendants truly personal ways to remember your pet after it has passed on.

CONCLUSION

Even if your pet, like Daisy, has been suffering a harsh illness, the actual death leaves you in grief. You cannot bring the pet back to life, but you can keep its memory alive by choosing one of many ways to remember your pet after it has passed on. Take your time, and choose well.

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ratherhavetheblues · 5 years

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INGMAR BERGMAN’S ‘SUMMER INTERLUDE’ “Get the lead out, little lady!”

Way back, when Ingmar Bergman was a hack by necessity, he found himself (being an acute student of Hollywood flutter) ready at last (around 1950) to speak his piece. The vehicle he chose for this debut, namely, Summer Interlude (1951), involves all the treachery and emotional violence mowing us down for the next forty years. Although his portfolio would include marvelous instances transcending destruction, those marvels would be hedged in a way that protracted evil would seem to triumph on planet Earth. But what is planet Earth but a sick puppy in face of the infinite potential of the cosmos? In the days of Summer Interlude, however, we should not neglect the singularity of heartiness putting in a dynamic (perhaps) never to be seen from him again. This singularity is the special gift and the special task of our film today.

Whereas, at the outset of a saga like Bergman’s Cries and Whispers (1972), there is a piercingly beautiful rendition of the grounds of a large estate in early morning light, only to become promptly swallowed up by vicious interaction and horrific physical decline and death, the tyro matter goes to sheep-dog persistence to show us that an agency of uncanny love is very much in the mix. Not being able to deploy (as with the film of 1972) remarkable chromatic effects, our preamble reveals an estate of some opulence, rich foliage including daisies in bright sunlight and gentle breezes, benign white clouds and, particularly, a body of dancing water with a rocky shore to be displaced with the sea looking back toward the now distant structure, touched by a carefree flute motif. (The last detail to note here, is three chevron-form windows at the mansion’s upper floor. That they resemble jaws as well as a formation of dialectics indicates how early Bergman’s instincts for synthesis were in play.)

Plunging right through that whimsy, only to engage more whimsy, there is the harbor of Stockholm and its flotilla of tour boats and ferries to be supplanted by a bicycle parked at a curb while leaves dance along the sidewalk. Promptly we enter a ballet theatre and its hubbub, which could have shattered the intuitive dance. That it doesn’t, has to do with the two ancient, long-term office functionaries, first seen receiving a package for the prima ballerina, Marie, and shooing off a reporter claiming, “She’s [Marie’s] expecting me.” With this mundane buzz, there emerges, by way of the courier/ messenger, a surprise: “What’s that smell?” Though the more assertive sentry claims that there is no smell, there is the delivery boy pressing the case, “You’ve lost your sense of smell, friend.” (With that, the discoverer pushes his hat into a rakish angle. This action tends to confirm that the reporter—his tabloid called, “The Year Round,” being about the usual—is dressed to resemble a whimsical and eccentric Hollywood detective with his trench coat and rakish fedora.) The smaller of the two sentries comes to life with, “Something does smell funny!”—something in the air we should take seriously. The rotund top-cop loses his temper about that volatility and yells out, “That may well be, but no outside brat’s gonna be telling me that! I’ve worked at this theatre for 40 years…” An in-crowd shaping up, disinclined for change. The delivery to “Miss Marie,” by the second-in-command, becomes another rakish motion, this time not so tacky as the poses of American tough guys. The boss-sentry rips open the curtain behind which he directs traffic and instantly there is the little old flunkey ripping open Marie’s dressing room and presenting her with the package. The shock of that gusto links to the mysterious “smell,” invading the ordinary with a type of acrobatics. (Here we have the comedic outset of what will become, in The Seventh Seal [1957], a blue-chip uprising against arrogant insiders.) In support of noticing that a dance is in force, somewhat supplanting the rigid activity of the ballet, we have a number of dancers in tutu costumes, seen from below on a rather precipitous catwalk down flights of narrow stairs. Almost simultaneously with that rush to a dress rehearsal, we hear a loud, grinding noise filling the hall. This also coincides with Marie’s opening her package to be jolted by the diary of a former lover who died while she watched him carelessly dive into a rocky seaside, along a trajectory of compromising distraction and superficiality which he—not she—could have averted. This unexpected arrival eclipses the work in progress. With everyone in place except her, many of the bemused run to the sense that Marie is losing her grip. We hear, “Something’s going on with Marie. Everyone says so!” (A cut to the stage curtain, and it strikes us as dark and fussy with frills.) Marie is induced to return to be a team artist, but her escort, one of the many support staff needed to satisfy a pedantic culture, worries, “There’s something strange in the air today! I told the missus so when I woke up. The weather and all, and I had a strange dream… Something’s going to happen, I feel it coming…” After a short passage with the premiere (the dancers performing the ballet, Swan Lake) and during an expectant musical thrust, the lights go out.

The on-again, off-again lighting is “some king of glitch,” necessitating an evening dress rehearsal. But the “glitches” we’ve just experienced speak to an agency—always there but seldom noticed. Surely the arrogant ballet master alerting Marie that there is to be a lull in the workplace that day and going on to be viciously rude toward an elderly woman helper of the dressing room, would be missing in action regarding that agency. (He tells the ballerina, “I’m cool.” But no one’s fooled about that, since cool is the medium of disinterestedness, also known as acrobatics.)

We’ll follow how Marie spends that rest, and whether she amounts to anything better than the laughable wannabe. She goes out, but before that she stops at the phone booth at the doorway, to connect with the man from “The Year Round” [the everyday, the common]. She can’t reach him. But can she reach the pattern of meteor-passes on the phone booth glass? On hearing from the decades-long bouncer that he had bounced her date, she spits out, “They should send you packing!” That being exactly the register of the “cool” one. The hapless doorman remarks, “There’s something hard about her.” Marie bumps into the person of interest while yawning, and meandering along a sidewalk. She complains to him, “I’m tired because you won’t let me sleep at night.” Thus, ensues a bitter row about preoccupation with career, culminating with him telling her, “I can’t stand old sourpusses!” She has carried along the diary, and when, at the docks, passing a tour boat ready for an excursion, she is rallied by a crewman calling, “Get the lead out, little lady! Are you coming or not?” She can’t resist a bid to shake things up, to recapture what she imagines to have been the heights of love. A sprightly harp motif joins her windfall along with the sunny sky and lovely seas, in addition to a white wake and white smoke from the chimney, conspiring with the white clouds. She enters a precinct of thrilling space, serenity and its brave instincts. Pensive, while the boat skirts a forest, she could be seen to be an artist of vast promise.

On reaching her destination, she finds the key to a small and decrepit cabin, where she sits on a dusty cot. She closes her eyes and recalls a summer day 13 years before, when she graduated into the corps de ballet, by way of a celebratory performance. “A day like no other day of the year!” But she had to include, within this treasure of skill, the complaint, to one of the trainers, “That was awful! The orchestra played too slow…” Her listener replies, “Don’t try that one…” [to cover errors by blaming others, resorting to place others at a disadvantage]. She then shifts the advantage game to the form of, “It didn’t go well…” [I’m a perfectionist without peers]. The more mature correspondent here covers the cut-throat’s vanity with, “No, but you were brilliant…” All he gets in reply is, “I��m going home to have a good cry.” Frustrated, his retort is, “You do that.”

Marie may have been in the spotlight here. But her account includes another male backstage, smitten by her sensuous presence and early authority. He’s quickly disposed of by the larger sentry, before being introduced. But we should know right now (before succumbing to overkill from the measure of wholesomeness this movie packs) that Marie, for all her impressive resolve, is locked, as is most of the population, into life-long superficiality, with occasional faint hope being to no avail. And yet, this Bergman standby will in fact be tempered—not simply, as with the usual drama over the years, a demolished gem—by a perpetual vector of efficacy (a glitch), notwithstanding having been virtually never taken out on the road. Whereas the young admirer, far more capable of real artistry and power than she, will die in the course of taking her too seriously, he will have deposited, in his diary, the wherewithal (and he is not alone in this challenge) to shut down a gigantic farce. We do need to notice and celebrate the many upbeat moments, because their sunniness is quite unique in the works of Bergman. And thereby we are enmeshed in a critique: on the order of loosening up (somewhat) the good stuff.

Out she goes (in her reverie), on the same boat she would use after the quarrel with the reporter, for her summer holiday, and who should be seated next to her but Henrik, the finder of celestial apparitions. She remarks (not exactly a calling card), “It’s cold.” His shy and awkward reply is, “Are your legs cold, miss? I mean, since you’re a dancer…” He goes on to declare, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” After sorting out each of their positions on the Stockholm Archipelago, the impressiveness of Marie’s home takes precedence. He jokes, “Yeah, the Manor. Gruffman [his large poodle] and I used to raid the orchard there.” This brings out more coldness in the ballerina: “Perhaps our paths will cross, if only if you come to raid the orchard,” she stakes out a far from equitable intercourse.

Now that we’ve floated the crisis (a much lower key than that of, say, The Passion of Anna (1969), we’re treated to Marie’s susceptibility to cogency when alone and heeding “glitches.” She wakes up on the cot to be welcomed by a foursome of intense squares of light upon the wall. (The makings of a twosome without attitude?) She hums a happy tune while putting on her bathing suit, and then she opens wide her arms to the sun. She carries a long fishing pole to her rowboat at the dock, and we regard her smoothly rowing from a seagull’s perspective, which is also the perspective of disinterestedness. Who knew? We’re treated here to a play of rallies, the likes of which are very rare in the Bergman catchment. She drops anchor, puts a worm on her hook and falls asleep in the molten sun. A cuckoo sings. (No matter that her endeavor here comes to naught. This film has opened up a very long-term payoff.) The splash of Henrik’s diving into the waters nearby wakens her to a divided result. She is amused by his whimsy; but also displeased to feel exposed that she can’t handle the rigors. “Hello, again,” she takes up a form of pecking order. “Swim, miss?” he invites, perhaps having taken umbrage with her seeing him as a thief. “Too cold,” she maintains. “Try,” he argues, all smiles. And therewith Marie finds a way to put him at a disadvantage. “Think we could drop the formalities?” the modernist tweaks the old-fashioned. She takes further control by asking, “Do you like wild strawberries?” And away they go, with a harp fanfare, to her place. “No one knows about it.” While they are enjoying the treats, a bird calls so furiously that she becomes confused. He shrugs it off with, “I usually call it the summer vacation bird.” (One other aspect of the wild things in this skirmish is Gruffman, the dog, in the process of losing his special fluency with the boy.)

As the summer goes very wrong, Marie makes a point of having nothing to do with Gruffman’s equilibrium. On hearing from the college boy of his having been shunted off by his divorced father to a rich and hateful aunt, Marie tries to bring to bear her vision of soaring virtue. “I love blind kittens, don’t you? And babies… And people that other people think are ugly. And mice, of course.” (How close to Anna, the martinet of “Security,” in the film, The Passion of Anna, is Marie?) As an afterthought formality, she adds, “and poodles.” How much did she care about Gruffman? After Henrik’s death, she demands having the deep creature put done, with the slimy concern, “The poor thing shouldn’t have to live” [in malaise].

Henrick’s not feeling that his concerns are getting across to her—“It’s just that people don’t take me seriously…”/ “Oh dear,” she chuckles, “is it really as tragic as that?”—prompts him to declare, “No one cares about me but Gruffman…”/ “Really,” she mocks./ “No,” he insists, “only Gruffman!” The conversation continues to fall short of serious connection. “What about me? Do you care about me? Would I have brought you here if I didn’t?” is her infantile rationale./ Even a freshman could smell that glitch. He politely replies, “I’ll have to give that some serious thought.” Serious thought, about a gulf, crashes into him immediately, by her happy face, “I’m never going to die.” Not content with pushing around the population, Marie has no qualms about pushing around the cosmos. And before leaping to the conclusion that she’s a dancer, period, we should be alert to the possibility that her moments of vision at the beginning of the morning might just touch upon an agency—far from about forever alive—which could move a headstrong dancer-laborer to recognize that powers do surpass and sustain mere human physiology right up to a right death. “I may get really, really old, but I’ll never die.” Henrik, after fielding this matter of incredible self-concern, shares his very different sense of “serious thought.” “While, I’m scared… Scared that I, Henrik, will suddenly fall over the edge into something dark and unknown.”/ “Why do you talk like that?” she complains. He explains, “The feeling just comes over me [a glitch], clear as can be…” He smiles, having in fact reached the same territory of Marie’s gratitude; but from another, more visceral angle. “But it’s interesting, don’t you think?” Henrik looks for a link. She smiles uncommittedly. But she does manage to maintain, “Hey, Henrik, I think we’re going to be friends.”/ “I think so too,” he hopes. (Here, we should delight in the helmsman’s great craft in theatrical dialogue, casting light where darkness has prevailed.)

This high ground proves to lack traction. Here she is, back to her default zone at the estate, receiving, from a rich uncle who hopes to bed her one day, an expensive bracelet. This Uncle Erland, an amateur classical pianist of some finesse, grows his hair patrician-long; and, in the midst of it, he installs two strands of white curls which set the table for the kind of synthesis Marie and Henrik struggle to master. Erland, teased by Marie that he lusted for her now-deceased mother, trains his rationale toward a supposed supernal gift which Marie’s actress-mother possessed. Marie, in her most sustained register, teases and triumphs, “And is the bracelet a token of my artistry?” Her uncle, frequently drunk, advises, “We’d run away, you and I… and live life to the fullest… seize the moment and hold it tight…” In reply, she maintains, “I already seize the moment and hold it tight.” Her patron dismisses that arrogance, telling her, and laughing, “You think so, poor dear? Lucky the man who will teach you. There’s so much to life…” The lunch dissolves with her coquetry, seen often, no doubt, at many affairs. But rushing to the traction involving Henrik, , she finds that he had been once again trespassing and overhearing the minor cynicism. (Erland’s wife, regarding with him her racing off, states, “She’s run off, dear Erland, and you can’t catch her.” Sometime after the death of Henrik, he will reel her in, for a while.) A frosty new friend greets her, and Gruffman doesn’t even look her flighty way. She uses the dog as a ventriloquist’s doll: “Gruffman, why’s he mad?” Clearing the air, she refers to the gift-giver as merely “an old codger,” and adds, once again, “Is it as tragic as all that?” She cuddles up, and then pushes him into the nearby waters. “I got you!” she adds. A cut reveals the three returning in his canoe. Her voice-over, covering the scene as Henrik wrote in his diary, emphasizes, “One night, after a scorching summer day of blazing sunlight, there was an immense silence that reached all the way up to the starless vault of heaven… The silence between us was immense as a well…” Hopping gracefully from one small purchase of the treacherous surface to another, she induces Henrik to follow suit, which he does. (Two forms of poetry.) The friends lie on their bellies upon the flat rocks. She adds, “The rocks are still warm. His contribution—“Everything seems unreal tonight, don’t you think?”—elicits from her, “It’s beautiful” [beautiful as a bracelet?]. A small “glitch” having come to concentration for her, brings to her: “We’re inside the same bubble… It’s so beautiful I could burst, break into pieces and disappear without a trace [“I’ll never die” a poor fit for this understanding]… You know, kissing must be fun…” His response, “Must be, since everybody’s doing it” [in sexy Sweden], once again doesn’t find them on the same page. He thinks out loud, “Everything’s so difficult, and all connected somehow… Marie, I like you. I’m in love with you, and all that… I mean… You must think I’m stupid. I’m just a damned fool. A damned coward!” And once again she drops the ball. “How does it feel?” she asks. (Not the big picture; but, “How am I doing to brighten your melancholy?”) “What?” he wonders, is she talking about. She clarifies, “You said you’re in love with me.” He, wanting to drop the subject going nowhere that could work for him in her context, puts out a slap-dash cliché, “You feel it in your chest and stomach.” This brings her to the failing of poetry, and she laughs at him. Having a miserable time expressing the subject by duress, he struggles with a quicksand of language. “You’re knees feel like they’re full of applesauce, and your toes curl up. But it’s mostly in the chest.” (Bergman’s ironic bite here involving a possibility to make amends, given long enough time to live. She, facile most of the time, amends, “In the heart.”) “I don’t know what,” he puts an end to the revealing farce. But he politely asks, “What about you?” She, having been accorded all her life the license to duck out of conundrums, rudely shoots back, “Who said I was in love with you?”/ “You’re right,” he acknowledges—and this would have been his cue to do something else during his vacation. But from her perspective there was nothing more interesting here than toying with reflection. She comes up and puts his arm around her shoulders. “I think it’s in my skin,” she gets around to replying to his asking about the subject. “I want you to touch me and stroke my skin with your hands…” As he moves to kiss her, she rushes away, whips out a cigarette, hands it to him and they proceed to toss flat stones into the inlet. Far from the creative acrobatics stalking this film, the rippling of the waters doesn’t catch fire. Then they canoe, and their return is bemusing. She marches straight on to the dock, leaving the more evolved two to bring the awkward craft to steadiness. Their land route passes cherry blossoms and a peacock, but they meet the beauty with less than incisiveness. (Traction missing.)

Now both of them needing a new outlook on life, they visit the salon of the estate of Erland. “He’s probably a bit drunk, but don’t worry about,” are the opening notes by her aunt. They sit on a polar bear rug, and listen to Erland tell of, “Your mother, Marie, used to dance for me on evenings like this… when it was quiet and still, and moonlight filled the room …” (Less than celestial? Or once celestial?) He moves on to, “Now all the clocks in the house have stopped… We were alive in those days…” Marie escorts Henrik to the garret room where she is supposed to work out every day, during the closure of the ballet. Here Marie, in voice-over, reads Henrik’s read of the moment. “It was the ship’s horn tooting in the distance, and other things echoing too. The silence and the anticipation… The blood whispering in our ears. A strange mood set in… almost like a melody [a musical progression]. A new room opened up in our minds…” Then she resumes the jist of her leaden factuality. “Two crows talk in the trees every day at 4 a.m. They’re quite sweet… Then your “summer vacation bird” appears…” Henrik is recalled as responding to this introduction, “You sound like a museum guide…” She responds with, “I think we should kiss each other…” The choreography of her gleaming eyes, his soldiering forth, and his ending on top of her on the carpet is indelible, not requiring any additions. Henrik gently touches her cheek. Then a deep kiss and a pan to Gruffman with his own saga of alienation. A cut to the morning, discloses only their arms and hands reaching upward and touching, as if a primer were found to be a better bet. Marie, as if to disarm any notion of her being not so bad, becomes a radio soap opera ingénue. “Now you have a lover… How does it feel? Exciting? I’m sure you’ll tell your friends. Will you boast about us?” Properly miffed by this violence, he says, “I can’t give any guarantees. But we will get married.” She commands, “But now! How do you feel right now? Haven’t you longed for this?” He once again admits having had fears. “And you’re not now,” she probes, being almost a selfie about making a splash. On hearing that he’s no longer afraid, she has to brag, “I’m never afraid of anything!”

That gross overestimation becomes the mantra of her dark solution to form a happy ending (for her) within their deadly reconnaissance. She covers his mouth as he adds, “I am” [afraid]. That cover will launch her woodland theatrical regime, going lickety-split to shed an unsupportable endeavor. (Gruffman’s being a steady source of love becomes almost totally lost in the shuffle.) And they race to the shore—Hollywood-intensity-style—early rebels without a (viable) cause. A piccolo motif applying a whip, we see them on the lake, she in her stolid rowboat, they in their lyrical canoe. Then to the vicinity of their cabin-castle, where he lifts her over his head as if on the ballet stage, the Romantic-era fantasy so wrong in this world of very hard acrobatics, and only then deploying juggling which might catch fire. A rain shower leads to them hunkering down on the cabin cot. Marie reads the unwelcome passage, “Days like pears, round and lustrous, threaded on a golden string [onscreen, a stormy sky… a church]. Days filled with fun and caresses, nights of waking dreams. When did we sleep? We had no time for sleep…”

Pan to Marie in real time. She finds Erland in his kitchen. He tells her, “Nothing’s ever surprised me in my life.” Boarding the boat back to the rehearsal, the sway of a lamp lights up more reverie, the reverie of her putting her foot down. It begins with her on pointe, working out in the garret. The arrival of Henrik and Gruffman is nothing but an annoyance. “So, it’s you two…” The two visitors sit on the floor feeling hated. After a while, Henrik says, “You don’t care about me. I’m always waiting for you.”/ “I’ve got a job to do… Fine… Just say the word…” She reasons, “We’ve been together night and day for two months… Good lord, you’re a pain today! Here I am groveling and apologizing… Just go. I’m fed up with your moods…” [moods being their real “job to do”]. She does engineer a truce upon this shaken basis, telling us, “I spent the whole day looking for him…” She finds him at his hostel/ mansion, where an influential aunt and a clergyman with a big hat, remind us of the trials of Alice in Wonderland. (This being another instance of lazy mood headed for LA.) Their being addicted to chess opens the door to Bergman’s The Seventh Seal. As if a marvel of paradox, the grandee claims, “I like living. That’s why I’ll outlive the bunch of you! Nevertheless, I still feel like a ghost.” Marie passes on the invitation to enjoy the “port.” Also, part of the awkward standoff, the divine states, “This may seem ridiculous, but I have the strange feeling I’m rubbing elbows with Death himself” [a reprise of the frissons at the outset].

As if now the Red Queen must rule, they encounter a fizzling fireworks display, move on to the cabin and play dubious razzmatazz vinyl discs, which bleed over to early Disney animation (by her) drawn on a paper sleeve. The show (while they drink their diminished milk) features them: Gruffman, made to sit down, while the lovers flirt; Gruffman becoming the fat sentry; and the old lady’s chest of money coming their way. The last vignette has the chest of money, the preacher and a wedding not happening. The chest changes to the big sentry, the ballerina becomes morose, and all that is left is Henrik’s sailor hat and a ballerina being the dying swan of the ballet, Swan Lake. From there, she declares, melodramatically, “Listen, it’s so quiet. Suddenly, everything went quiet.”/ “Maybe we’ve landed on another planet,” is how Henrik now unhappily reveals his capitulating to Disney. “An alien planet,” Marie piles on [about to claim a victim]. They crawl out of the little doorway, bathed in moonlight (doing its best). The one never afraid of anything becomes uneasy about a crying wind. His attempt to calm her, while having bought into her bathos, slides along to, “Such fine breasts you have, miss!” That jag of witlessness culminates with her, “As for me, I’ll be faithful as long as I feel like it. And since I always feel like it, I’ll be faithful till doomsday.” (The register here is just to the left of pre-Code-Hollywood.) There is a loud bird call. “What an ominous sound!” she shudders. (One person’s shudder being another person’s glitch. Both of them miles from their personal best, while personal becomes a disease.) He, dragged along by her cripplement, says, at this point of worn-down traction, “Don’t you recognize the eagle owl?” Oblivious to the puerility they have contracted, there she is, “I don’t know. I just feel like crying tonight. It’s like a toothache in my soul.” Hollywood forever, she emotes, “Hold me so I don’t break into pieces!” He, never realizing embracing a crash, replies, “My little darling. My love. My dearest darling and beloved friend. Hold me tight. Tighter. Let’s stay up all night until the sun rises, and the trolls burst…”

It’s the morning of the supposed Olympian love cake, and he’s ready to keep the so-called magic alive. He scampers to the top of a picturesque ridge overlooking the pretty waters, and takes flight. The rock face he rocks leaves him close to death. Gruffman comes to his struggle to right the ship that might have resolved to something she’d never become. By the time she arrives at the hard facts, he tells her—all poetry lost—“My back!” (His “back,” his second front of deadly and ravishing truth, if only he could have steadied it, becomes a fitting epitaph to a young adventurer.

The conclusion of Henrik’s life is not quite the conclusion of Henrik’s being a player in Marie’s life. The saga’s last moments comprise the lovers, in a Stockholm hospital room, where he regains consciousness for a few seconds before dying. Her strongest emotion is horror, not love. She had arrived wearing a chic, shiny black leather coat, giving her continuity with the American melodramas she had burrowed into at the end of the summer. (Similarly, she suggests here an oil slick.) Her retreat from the hospital, with no further concern toward any sequel, is as stagey as it is incipiently uncanny. Piling on the pushy “mystery,” she and Erland (he having secured the diary) create a film noire parade along a corridor while exiting the mishap. First there is Marie, enclosed by shadows resembling prison bars. Following her, like a gumshoe, there is the silhouette of Erland pulling on his European habit like a cape. From out of that delirium, she condemns Gruffman to death and allows Erland to confirm her sense of being cheated by life, resentful nihilism. “I’d spit in his [God’s] face!” The uncle/ paramour, holds forth with, “Protect yourself, build a wall around yourself, so the misery can’t get to you.” She tells us—the diary segueing to the career of a prima ballerina of questionable quality—“That’s how I forgot Henrik… In the end, I wasn’t just protected but locked inside…”

That trace of self-criticism needs thirteen years to yield a pitiful “recovery,” as problematic-heavy as noir is problematic-light. The evening rehearsal proceeds nicely; but Marie’s concentration remains divided. The sentry informs her that the “hack” with the trench coat had been at the door again, “but he left.” She assures those ancients that she saw him. This surprises them inasmuch as, “it didn’t make her happy either…” In her inner sanctum she’s visited with eerie features of décor; but “it didn’t make her happy, either.” A visit from one of the leaders of the company, trying out his disguise for the figure of Dr. Coppelius—wherein the latter attempts to bring to life a puppet—has the same haplessness, concerning lightening up, as the décor did. “You don’t dare leave, yet you don’t dare stay… You see your life clearly just once… when all your protective walls come tumbling down. You stand there naked and cold… seeing yourself as you really are… I can see it in your eyes” [that you have had such a brush]… Then the hack obtrudes; and a hack interplay, from both “lovers,” ensues. She asks, “What do you think of the two of us, really? We’re nothing to write home about.” She comes to a point of veering. She blurts out, “So now, Henrik…” The voice of the street pounces on this, “Is my name Henrik?” She replies by handing him the diary and telling him to read it overnight. (What would come of it, she has no idea; but she would be forming some possibilities trailing out to others.) In a voice-over, this time not manufactured by Henrik, she tells us, “I feel like crying all this week and next… Crying away all my shabbiness… and all this wasted time… [But] Do I want to cry at all? If I really look deep inside, I’m actually happy!” (She puts out her tongue to the mirror she has been subjecting herself to. The Hollywood soundtrack only approximates her mood.)

All we pretty much see of the next day is a bit of the performance of Swan Lake. One twist shows the noire lover backstage during the bittersweet saga. Did he read the diary carefully? Probably not. Marie, in a lull where she’s not onstage, brings him to a place of rendezvous and she touches his cheek. Then she’s back onstage where her steps bring her to a rather awkward pyramid of less than sublime acrobatics.

Does the oracle in the Dr. Coppelius disguise speak truth about, “You see your life clearly just once?” How about three or four times? Would that be a life? How far could Henrik (a very early version of the Dr. Borg, in Wild Strawberries [1957]) have gone, were he never foolishly became in awe of Marie? From here on in, we must ponder the vast subtleties of this neglected open door of a film by Bergman, having slammed perhaps a bit too forcefully his clowns. It is well and good to measure the horrors of “virtuousness.” But interludes of magic there bring to bear a second front, and its acrobatics and juggling.

#ingmar bergman

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dawnjeman · 6 years

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Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Newlyweds Home Design

Hello, everyone! It’s so great to start this new week with you here. Thank you so much for the visit!

I won’t be long today because I really want you to focus on this newlywed couple and their beautiful home. I truly can’t tell you how much I admire Ali and Brett. It’s so impressive all of the work they have put into their first home and I can’t help but admire and wish them many, many Blessings in this life. Please, get to know them below and make sure to follow them on Instagram. We should always surround ourselves with good people in our lives and that goes for social media as well.

Hello new friends! My name is Ali, my husbands name is Brett and we are @BARCbyBrettandAli. We were so honored to be asked by Luciane, to share our home with you all.

A little about ‘us’ … we got engaged in July of 2016. Our plan initially was for Brett to sell his house and move into my condo (not traditional, I know, but financially made sense). Not long after our engagement, our family realtor had found us the perfect home. We were casually looking because the neighborhood we wanted to move into was extremely sought after. When we saw this listing, we had to jump on it. The craziest part of it all, Brett was out of town for work, so my mom and I went to look. Brett never actually saw the home, besides a FaceTime tour, until after we had purchased it…he was sold when I took him to the basement where there was a theatre, so a pretty easy sell for any guy! That was the first demonstration of trust in our relationship!

Funny thing about the location of our home is we are 4 houses from my cousin and about 10 from my sister…so we plopped ourselves on the same street right in the middle of family! We officially called this place home in September 2016 and a year later we were married, September 2017!

Needless to say these first two years have been busy ones! Our love for all things home was one of our biggest shared passions. Which is where our HomeBunch story begins….

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Newlyweds Home Design

Let’s start with the exterior and I’m just going to lay this out there, it’s not my favorite…and the worst part is, we have regulations in our neighborhood, so we can’t change it! (Ugh!). Here’s the silver lining though, for as much as we don’t love our exterior it does provide a bit of an element of surprise as you enter.

Planters: Custom-built.

Outdoor Pillows: World Market.

Meet the Homeowners!

Aren’t they a gorgeous couple? They should have a show on HGTV just about DIY projects!!!

Home-Sweet-Home

Now for the good stuff, come on in! So you will notice a trend through our home, a bit different than many of the gorgeous homes that have been featured…we do a lot of the updates ourselves and do our own customizations to make our home feel unique. Brett is an incredibly talented woodworker and craftsman! His ability to take my, often ridiculous requests, and bring them to life makes for a very fun dynamic in our household.

Wreath: DIY – Florals from Hobby Lobby.

Front Door Paint Color

Door Color: Benjamin Moore Cheating Heart.

RUG: Ruggable – Moroccan Collection: Kavi Rose Gold.

Curtains: Ikea.

Foyer Decor

Lantern: Magnolia Hearth and Hand House Lantern.

Similar Fiddle Leaf Tree: Here.

Planter: World Market.

Home Style

We have made some large updates in our home, as well as some smaller cosmetic ones, that have completely transformed the feel. Our home is a Five-Level Split and for those that haven’t seen that style of a home in person, the main perks for us were the high ceilings in every room and the very open layout. It also gives us very usable space, rather than a traditional setup.

Wall Color

Wall Color: Sherwin Williams Light French Gray.

Dining Room

This room has seen several updates in the short two years we’ve lived here. We did a DIY update to the existing chair rail that was here when we moved in. We wanted a statement rug to ground the room and we couldn’t love our non-slip, washable…yes I said WASHABLE rug more in this room!

Wall Color: Sherwin Williams Light French Gray.

Rug: Ruggable Vintage Daisy Bordered Blue.

Mudcloth Pumpkins: you can find my DIY on our IG page – click on “DIY“.

Bench: Ikea.

Chandelier: Crate and Barrel.

Table Top

Wall Hanging: World Market Half Moon Wall Hanging.

Candlesticks: World Market

Clear/Gold Vase: World Market

China: Macy’s

Table Runner: West Elm

DIY Dining Table

Our dining table was actually the first piece of furniture Brett and I built together…on the garage floor at my condo. It was certainly worth it, but needless to say our knees were killing us by the end of it! (We’ve updated the workshop since then.)

Similar Dining Table: Here, Here & Here.

Dining Chairs: World Market – WM- Paige Dining Chair – Natural Linen.

Buffet Table: found at a thrift store, refinished with Annie Sloan Chalk Paint – similar here.

Floating shelves: Brackets – Farmhouse Brackets – similar: here (brackets + shelves).

Kitchen

Our kitchen is one of my favorite spaces in our home. We have put a lot of blood, sweat, well no tears… but definitely blood and sweat in here!

Countertop

Countertops: Marble-looking Quartz Counters.

Kitchen Island

Brett custom built the kitchen island. Our previous island didn’t allow for counter stools, so after a short discussion one evening, Brett created this beautiful piece! We decided to paint it an accent color to really make a statement and chose a rug that pulled the blue undertones out.

Washable Kitchen Runner: Ruggable.

Kitchen Cabinets

The wall cabinets were in good condition when we purchased the home and with it being such a large space, we opted to paint rather than replace them! We are still very happy with this decision and added details to the existing cabinets to customize them to our taste!

Backsplash & Faucet

Backsplash: Floor and Decor – Ice white square subway tile – similar here.

Faucet: Delta Trinsic in Matte Black.

Pendant Light: Wayfair.

Kitchen Hardware

Kitchen Hardware: AmazonHome – no longer sell these – similar: Pulls & Knobs.

Kitchen Cabinet Paint Color

Kitchen Cabinets: Benjamin Moore Chantilly Lace.

Kitchen Island Paint Color

Kitchen Island Paint Color: Benjamin Moore 1617 Cheating Heart.

Counterstools

Counterstools are from Target.

Breakfast Room

Wall are painted in Benjamin Moore Chantilly Lace.

Rug: Ruggable – similar here.

Dining Chairs

Dining Chairs: World Market.

Table Greenery: Target.

Lighting: IKEA Bamboo Pendant Lamp – similar here & here.

Curtains & Rod: Ikea.

Fireplace & Dining Table

A 3-sided fireplace brings warmth to the breakfast room and family room.

Similar Stacked Stone: Here.

Similar Counterstools: Here.

Chevron Mirror: World Market.

Breakfast Room Dining Table: Overstock.

Message

Letterboard: similar here.

Family Room

This space has had some updates recently! This room is a bit of a hybrid between a family room and a traditional living room. Our goal with changing the furniture and layout in this room was to create more livable space. We chose a mid century modern sofa that was not only the design we wanted, but also extremely comfortable!

Sofa: Macy’s Jolene Sectional.

Accent Chair: Target.

Floor Lamp: Target.

Knit Blanket: West Elm.

White Mudcloth Pillows: RH – similar here.

Wall color: SW Light French Gray.

Hardwood Flooring

Recently, we updated our flooring with a consistent floor throughout the entire first level. We chose a high-end laminate because of the durability…we will be having kids in the future and puppies (lots of them, if it were up to me…though my husband would likely disagree). It’s a beautiful laminate and can hold standing water for up to 30+ hours, so perfect for kitchens!

Flooring: Floor and Decor – AquaGuard Gogh Water-Resistant Laminate – AquaGuard Laminate.

Rug: Ruggable Linear Aztec Black – similar here.

Poufs: At Home.

Coffee Table

Per the suggestion of my sister, she recommended we go with a padded ottoman, rather than building our own coffee table. She has two little ones and they love running around our house so avoiding sharp corners was a main concern. We decided to do a narrow ottoman with two poufs for additional seating.

Ottoman Coffee Table: Target.

Home Office

Upstairs we have bedrooms and then this loft space.

Chair: World Market.

Decor

Since I work from home, this functions as my office. It’s the only room in this house that’s just “my” space, so I wanted to add a touch of girly, that I wouldn’t necessarily want in the main areas of our home. I chose white furniture, added accents of rose gold and gold, and finished with a fun rug that ties it all together!

Rug: Ruggable – Kilim Batik Pink – similar here.

“Think Differently” Sign: HomeGoods

Similar Work Hard + Be Nice to People” Sign: here.

Desk: No longer Available – similar here & here.

Master Bedroom

The goal for our master bedroom was to have a place that felt calm and serene. That had things that were special to Brett and I in the furniture and the decor. I designed the prints above our bed with lyrics from our first dance song, and had them custom made. Our furniture in this room is some of my favorites.

Bed: JCPenney – no longer available – similar here.

Lights: Ikea

Bedding

Pillows: Target

Similar Bedding: Here & Here (both are highly recommended).

Walls

We decided to flip the typical dark accent wall, with one light wall as the focal point instead.

Dresser

Typically the way things go in our household is I sketch up a design of what I’d like and Brett makes it come to life, even better than I planned. We built the nightstands together first and Brett built our beautiful 9 drawer dresser while I was away for work!

Master Bathroom

The colors in the bedroom flow into the bathroom to give a very spa-like feel. The tile we chose ties the two rooms together perfectly.

Bathroom Vanity

Vanity is painted in Chantilly Lace by Benjamin Moore.

Round Mirrors

Mirrors: AtHome – similar here.

Chunky Shelves

The chunky floating shelves were built by Brett.

Wall Color: SW Alabaster.

Floor Tile

Tile: Floor and Decor Florentina Gray Tile – similar here.

Basement

As I indicated in the intro, our house is a 5-level split, so this room is the first floor down prior to the true basement. We spend a majority of our downtime in here. We wanted this room to be comfortable, first and foremost, but also have an element of design.

Couch: Macy’s.

Decor

Wicker Baskets: Homegoods

White baskets: Target

White vases and tan base: Target

Other white vases: West Elm

Eucalyptus Garland: Target

Frames: Ikea.

Paint Color

Sherwin Williams Light French Gray SW0055.

DIY

We decided to build a custom entertainment center that was functional, had storage, and also was a well designed focal point when you walk in the room.

Guest Bathroom

This was one of my most nerve racking experiments. This bathroom was just about the furthest thing from our style.

Since this isn’t a heavily used space currently, we didn’t want to invest a lot money into it! Our goal is to update the counter and faucet relatively soon and at some point put in permanent flooring, but for now we love what we accomplished on a budget!

Similar Hardware: Pulls

Flooring

I decided one evening to attempt to stencil the floors. It was a bit of a project and with drying time, it took a good chunk of time, but in the end this was a great decision and the perfect short term fix!

Floors: Royal Stencil Quilt stencil Concrete Quilt – similar here & here.

Bath Mat: World Market.

Tray

Tray: Target – Opalhouse

Mirror

Mirror frame: DIY with 1x6in boards and corner brackets (easy update).

Well friends, that’s a wrap! We had so much fun putting this together and couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity to showcase all the work we’ve done in our home.

Thank you again, Luciane, for featuring us on your blog and big thanks to all that read along! Can’t wait to meet new friends and find new inspiration ourselves!

Many thanks to Ali & Brett for sharing all of the details above. Make sure to follow @BARCbyBrettandAli on Instagram for more inspiration!

Photography: Columbus Pics.

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Thank you for shopping through Home Bunch. I would be happy to assist you if you have any questions or are looking for something in particular. Feel free to contact me and always make sure to check dimensions before ordering. Happy shopping!

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“Dear God,

If I am wrong, right me. If I am lost, guide me. If I start to give-up, keep me going.

Lead me in Light and Love”.

Have a wonderful day, my friends and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

with Love,

Luciane from HomeBunch.com

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