Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Visit to Florence
More to come, but a quick shot or two. After the wedding, B & I ran by the house to let Colby out before the reception. Where did we find him? Nana's couch. Of course.
But at least we got a little walk in before it got too late...
But at least we got a little walk in before it got too late...
Monday, May 28, 2012
Married Life
Apparently, I woke B up in the middle of the night. It went something like this:
Me: B... B... B...
B: What?
Me: Are my eyes playing tricks on me?
B: Why?
Me: Are there crawly things on the ceiling?
B: What?
Me: Are. There. Crawly. Things. On. The. Ceiling.
B: Do you want me to turn the lights on to check?
Me: No. No....
Me: B... B... B...
B: What?
Me: Are my eyes playing tricks on me?
B: Why?
Me: Are there crawly things on the ceiling?
B: What?
Me: Are. There. Crawly. Things. On. The. Ceiling.
B: Do you want me to turn the lights on to check?
Me: No. No....
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Nana's House
This weekend is the first visit by the granddog to Nana's house. I never realized how many reflective serf aces there are in mom's house, which for Colby means that the house is FULL of dogs who must be alerted to his presence. Windows, mirrors, and, yes, the old TV last night. At 2am.
And B's dad will be thrilled to know that 'granddog' was autocorrected to 'granddaddog'.
And B's dad will be thrilled to know that 'granddog' was autocorrected to 'granddaddog'.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Small Town
Mom: We're getting a Panera!
Me: What? Where?
Mom: Next to the Publix.
Me: We have a Publix??
Me: What? Where?
Mom: Next to the Publix.
Me: We have a Publix??
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Wife of the Year
Guess who just drove off with the keys her husband will need to drive their pup on a two-plus hour solo mission? Vote me wife of the year!
On the upside, Colby will now be able to test his motion sickness in a sportscar. And I bet he'll love a cooled seat!
Won't it be fun when he finds out by reading this post? Also, what a fun way to test if he's reading this post!
Me. WOTY. I've got it locked up (but someone else has the keys).
On the upside, Colby will now be able to test his motion sickness in a sportscar. And I bet he'll love a cooled seat!
Won't it be fun when he finds out by reading this post? Also, what a fun way to test if he's reading this post!
Me. WOTY. I've got it locked up (but someone else has the keys).
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
How (Not) To Cut The Grass
Our backyard has a sordid tale to tell. It's only been in existence for two years (since the previous owners landscaped) and we've owned it for less than a year; yet, there is drama.
When we first closed on the house, I insisted, nay demanded that B go directly to the store and buy a hose to water the lawn. To my credit, it was July 27 and we were about to leave the house until the end of August. Fare the well, Zoysia! It was nice knowing you before your heat stroke!
So in lieu of giving our grass a heat stroke, I gave one to B, who stood in that yard, watering away (with only a hose, mind you), front and back, for over an hour. He got soaked, of course, in the process, both from high-noon sweat and generally hose debauchery, then had to ride in his damp clothes all the way to Atlanta. Luckily, my clothes were damp too, because as soon as he wound up the hose, locked up the house, and picked me up, it started to pour.
The yard fared well. In fact, I'm not sure we mowed it until November of 2011, which has to be some sort of record or lunacy, one (perhaps a record of lunacy?). After that, we started listening out to see when our neighbors were mowing and watering, that is until we decided to just turn on HBO and forget that we had anything depending on us for survival.
In January, we adopted Colby, our lovable, much-documented golden boy who turned out to be part collie and part Derby winner in that he loved to run very fast and in well-defined circles.
Of course, it was winter. Our dormant grass didn't alert us to the fact that all the adorable running (prompted by our heartfelt chasing), was quite literally wearing thin on our grass. By spring, you could see Colby's favorite running route, and the exact spot along the stone wall in which I can pull on his rope toy with him without bending over. While the rest of the yard is, well, yard, these areas are... white. Or brown. Or yellow, depending on how scorched or depleted of grass seed they now truly are.
Our April showers extended into May this year, bringing lots of growth, particularly in our rose bushes (yea!), but not so much in our yard. We still haven't mowed the front yard... ever? And it's about thumbtack height, which suits me fine. The backyard, however, surprised us. While we were watching and watering that beloved path, the rest of the lawn sprung up overnight to approximately dachshund height. How do I know? Our neighbors have three, but it was hard to know that when they were wandering in the heights of our now sea grass-like backyard.
B's been working crazy hours doing all sorts of fun things including, of course, word, but also volunteering with youth baseball, playing church softball, and playing basketball with his firm. Needless to say, he's well worked out and home after dark but, since doggie school is over, I'm home earlier.
Monday, I decided to weed, partly because our playscape area needed it and partly because Colby ate so many weeds that he threw them up Monday morning before I left for work (I'll let you guess which was the stronger catalyst). So I sprayed and weeded and planted something and still had hours of daylight left. I thought to myself, "I bet I can mow this lawn."
This thought will both make my mother proud and horrified. Proud because she has maintained our huge yard for decades, mowing it, tending to it, and generally loving it from the seat on her riding lawn mower. It will terrify her because the one time she asked me to mow it, I drove the riding lawn mower into a tree. I'll let you guess whether that was due to poor driving or strategy; I will say that I was never asked to mow the lawn again. And also that I failed my driver's test on the first try (something B only found out about this year and might consider grounds for future divorce proceedings).
Our backyard is a sweet little oasis. It has a large deck, a curved driveway leading to the garage, and a decent expanse of yard filled with grass, trees, roses, bushes, and the aforementioned playscape. It is also elevated. Step One: Prop 2X4s onto the stone wall.
I rolled the lawn mower out of the basement and prayed it was the right one. We have two hand-me-down mowers, but I assumed that the one lying pitifully on its side was the one currently benched.
I roll it to the 2X4s, and after two tries (mowers are heavy! walls are high!), I get it up on the grass. Pride fills my heart until I look at the settings on the mower. There is a sliding lever which features two pictures: a tortoise and a hare. Does one make the mower go faster? It's not self-propelled. Call B. "Doesn't matter which you choose; that's broken." Fair enough. "Is it set to the right blade height?" I ask. B replies, "It should be just right for the back yard. Also, if you can put those lines in diagonally like we talked about, that would be awesome." Silence. "Don't get used to this," I replied.
After priming the little bulb 10 times (and not calling my father-in-law... yet), I start to pull the start cord thing which, thankfully, does work, but not until I'm out of breath. The lawn mower whirrs to a start and I carve, quite literally, a path through the waving wheat that is our backyard. Don't believe me? Look:
When we first closed on the house, I insisted, nay demanded that B go directly to the store and buy a hose to water the lawn. To my credit, it was July 27 and we were about to leave the house until the end of August. Fare the well, Zoysia! It was nice knowing you before your heat stroke!
So in lieu of giving our grass a heat stroke, I gave one to B, who stood in that yard, watering away (with only a hose, mind you), front and back, for over an hour. He got soaked, of course, in the process, both from high-noon sweat and generally hose debauchery, then had to ride in his damp clothes all the way to Atlanta. Luckily, my clothes were damp too, because as soon as he wound up the hose, locked up the house, and picked me up, it started to pour.
The yard fared well. In fact, I'm not sure we mowed it until November of 2011, which has to be some sort of record or lunacy, one (perhaps a record of lunacy?). After that, we started listening out to see when our neighbors were mowing and watering, that is until we decided to just turn on HBO and forget that we had anything depending on us for survival.
In January, we adopted Colby, our lovable, much-documented golden boy who turned out to be part collie and part Derby winner in that he loved to run very fast and in well-defined circles.
Of course, it was winter. Our dormant grass didn't alert us to the fact that all the adorable running (prompted by our heartfelt chasing), was quite literally wearing thin on our grass. By spring, you could see Colby's favorite running route, and the exact spot along the stone wall in which I can pull on his rope toy with him without bending over. While the rest of the yard is, well, yard, these areas are... white. Or brown. Or yellow, depending on how scorched or depleted of grass seed they now truly are.
Our April showers extended into May this year, bringing lots of growth, particularly in our rose bushes (yea!), but not so much in our yard. We still haven't mowed the front yard... ever? And it's about thumbtack height, which suits me fine. The backyard, however, surprised us. While we were watching and watering that beloved path, the rest of the lawn sprung up overnight to approximately dachshund height. How do I know? Our neighbors have three, but it was hard to know that when they were wandering in the heights of our now sea grass-like backyard.
B's been working crazy hours doing all sorts of fun things including, of course, word, but also volunteering with youth baseball, playing church softball, and playing basketball with his firm. Needless to say, he's well worked out and home after dark but, since doggie school is over, I'm home earlier.
Monday, I decided to weed, partly because our playscape area needed it and partly because Colby ate so many weeds that he threw them up Monday morning before I left for work (I'll let you guess which was the stronger catalyst). So I sprayed and weeded and planted something and still had hours of daylight left. I thought to myself, "I bet I can mow this lawn."
This thought will both make my mother proud and horrified. Proud because she has maintained our huge yard for decades, mowing it, tending to it, and generally loving it from the seat on her riding lawn mower. It will terrify her because the one time she asked me to mow it, I drove the riding lawn mower into a tree. I'll let you guess whether that was due to poor driving or strategy; I will say that I was never asked to mow the lawn again. And also that I failed my driver's test on the first try (something B only found out about this year and might consider grounds for future divorce proceedings).
Our backyard is a sweet little oasis. It has a large deck, a curved driveway leading to the garage, and a decent expanse of yard filled with grass, trees, roses, bushes, and the aforementioned playscape. It is also elevated. Step One: Prop 2X4s onto the stone wall.
I rolled the lawn mower out of the basement and prayed it was the right one. We have two hand-me-down mowers, but I assumed that the one lying pitifully on its side was the one currently benched.
I roll it to the 2X4s, and after two tries (mowers are heavy! walls are high!), I get it up on the grass. Pride fills my heart until I look at the settings on the mower. There is a sliding lever which features two pictures: a tortoise and a hare. Does one make the mower go faster? It's not self-propelled. Call B. "Doesn't matter which you choose; that's broken." Fair enough. "Is it set to the right blade height?" I ask. B replies, "It should be just right for the back yard. Also, if you can put those lines in diagonally like we talked about, that would be awesome." Silence. "Don't get used to this," I replied.
After priming the little bulb 10 times (and not calling my father-in-law... yet), I start to pull the start cord thing which, thankfully, does work, but not until I'm out of breath. The lawn mower whirrs to a start and I carve, quite literally, a path through the waving wheat that is our backyard. Don't believe me? Look:
Hello, path!
The difference is so drastic that I immediately let go of the throttle and let the engine grind to a halt. Reaching down, I try to tell if I've scalped the yard, but, in reality, it's still really long, like several inches long, it's just that this part of it hasn't seen the light of day since... ever.
I placate myself by saying that I can't leave it like this, it all has to match, so I may as well keep going. Several yank-starts later, I am in business, cutting the grass by dragging the mower back and forth (apparently not a traditional means of cutting, which typically involved moving forward at all times) as I attempt to make the parallel lines.
Even though the mower isn't self-propelled, I feel like it's in a hurry, so I go quickly, doing the backyard (minus the random mohawk-like tufts and the edges) in about fifteen minutes, which is when the mower decides to die, because apparently it needs more gas. Pushy thing, that mower.
I'm so darned pleased with myself by this point that I take a picture, making sure to display my (almost) perfect diagonal lines and even those little happy tufts in between them. We're buying an edger today; can you guess why?
Hello, lines!
Of course, the irony of all this is that the part in the middle that's bright green, the part that doesn't look scorched? That's Colby's path. The foreground and background are his other favorite parts of the yard, for reasons I'll leave unspoken, so we may need to do a little more watering work there. If you look closely, you can see back there by the last tree a particularly green area, the part I missed before the mower died. Take a look in case you thought I was exaggerating about the height of the yard.
The good news is that I didn't run into any trees this time; the bad news is that our trees are babies, so if I do run into them, I'll likely run over them, which probably wouldn't be good for the mower or the trees.
Stay tuned for adventures in edging...
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Love Is...
Entering the name of your husband's first girlfriend every time you log in to online banking. Sure, I could use my own log in information, but I have no clue what it is and if we're ever hit for insider trading, or the like, I can honestly say in court that I never even logged into our bank account with my own name.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Call Me Maybe
If a viral video of Harvard baseball players gets a song stuck in my head, then it has to be stuck in B's, too.
Me:hey
i just met you
and this is crazy
B: huh?
me: but here's my number
so call me maybe
B: ok, quit it
me: ( if it's in my head, it's in yours!))
fist, fist, cross
fist, fist, cross
(run in place)
Brian: stop it please
me: Love you. Press on, darlin!
B: will do
see you at home
ahh, dang it
you got it in my head
me: I can say wholeheartedly that I'm mostly sorry
Brian: i doubt that at all
Me:hey
i just met you
and this is crazy
B: huh?
me: but here's my number
so call me maybe
B: ok, quit it
me: ( if it's in my head, it's in yours!))
fist, fist, cross
fist, fist, cross
(run in place)
Brian: stop it please
me: Love you. Press on, darlin!
B: will do
see you at home
ahh, dang it
you got it in my head
me: I can say wholeheartedly that I'm mostly sorry
Brian: i doubt that at all
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Anniversary, Part 3
Last night, B and I celebrated our third anniversary by sitting in our present to one another (a porch swing!), enjoying a fabulous dinner at a favorite celebration of ours (Hot & Hot!), and drinking another of our bottles of anniversary wine. I tell you all that so that you know that we DID celebrate and won't be ashamed at us for what I'm about to write.
After all the celebrating was done, we pulled out the iPad and tried to finish a show we'd been watching for a while. Around 3:30, I woke up with my glasses in my hand. This morning, this happened...
Me: Did I fall asleep last night?
B: Yes, yes you did.
Me: I woke up with my glasses in my hand at 3:30.
B: Oh, sorry about that. You do realize that you fell asleep holding the iPad, right?
Me: NO.
B: Yep.
Me: What'd you do?
B: Well, you were doing a good job holding it, so I just let you sleep and hold it while I watched the show.
Love.
After all the celebrating was done, we pulled out the iPad and tried to finish a show we'd been watching for a while. Around 3:30, I woke up with my glasses in my hand. This morning, this happened...
Me: Did I fall asleep last night?
B: Yes, yes you did.
Me: I woke up with my glasses in my hand at 3:30.
B: Oh, sorry about that. You do realize that you fell asleep holding the iPad, right?
Me: NO.
B: Yep.
Me: What'd you do?
B: Well, you were doing a good job holding it, so I just let you sleep and hold it while I watched the show.
Love.
How to Stop a Nightmare
In case you've ever wondered how my marriage works, this about sums it up. I'm the tiny flailing kitty; B is the steady, stable cat.
It's worth noting that we hate cats, as a general rule, but that now I'm seeking to adopt these two (or at least foster them during naps).
It's worth noting that we hate cats, as a general rule, but that now I'm seeking to adopt these two (or at least foster them during naps).
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