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Halloween is coming and the holiday themed products are popping up everywhere. While most of them are harmless, I did run across one that made me shiver.
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Uh….. what?
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I’m not sure eating their owner’s body parts is the type of behavior we should be encouraging in our cats.
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Lord Dudley is already pissed we strap him into a harness…. I don’t need him getting any ideas.
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But at our house, not in the way you might think.
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This is one of our stone walls. It’s the smallest and has been falling in on itself for years.
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Mainly because when my husband built it 19 years ago, he didn’t listen to me and dug it level to the higher edge of lawn.
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You can’t tell but there’s over a two foot difference in height there.
Anyway… on July 2nd, the start of the holiday weekend, I came home from the grocery store and found this.
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Because the husband decided July 4th was the perfect time to redo the corner of the wall where stones were starting to slip into the ditch. He enlisted a friend, dug a trench and figured this jerry rigged engineering marvel would work.
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A slab of untreated wood, a line of black stakes and yes, God help me… roofing shingles to hold back the dirt. Not what I would call aesthetically pleasing.
There was a discussion. Followed by a heated debate. Which turned into the beginning of an argument. I offered multiple solutions and they did not go over well. Naturally the husband wanted to do as little lifting as possible because, you know… rocks = heavy. But if you’re going to rebuild a wall? You can’t just do one section, and after some (not so) gentle persuading, he finally saw it my way. Since the slipping stones were his main concern I conceded defeat on that point and we eliminated the corner.
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Filling it in with dirt which we will then seed or sod.
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And then the real work began.
If you’ve never built a rock wall? (And I mean a real New England cement free rock wall, with rocks of all different shapes and sizes and weights… not the nice flat ones you buy at a landscapers) Trust me, it’s work!
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Which is undoubtedly why my husband only wanted to do a corner.
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Silly man, he really should have known better.
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Day one? It went something like this:
Move rocks, install barrier, argue with wife, remove barrier, curse wife under your breath, fill hole with dirt, move rocks, curse wife again, start rebuilding entire wall when all you wanted to do was one corner, move rocks, curse wife under breath one more time because you can and she’s too far away to hear you.
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To be continued….
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While most people were at the beach or the lake enjoying picnics and barbecues with lovely waterfront views this weekend…. my view was somewhat different .
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Because of all the times my husband could have picked to replace a section of our roof?
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He picked Memorial Day weekend. You know, the long weekend where rain was predicted Saturday morning, Sunday night and all day Monday. I suggested he postpone the repairs. He ignored me. I asked him to postpone the repairs. He told me it wasn’t necessary. I told him it was going to frigging rain! He got aggravated with me, said it would be fine and told me to go in the house.
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If you’ve been paying attention you know we’ve had a serious roof leak for a while now. Our living room ceiling is a mess and though the husband has ripped off and replaced numerous sections of shingles he could never figure out where the water was breaking through.
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Me? I’ve complained for years about the gutter leaking in the corner right above the doors… but he never paid attention. What do I know?
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Apparently more than he does … because when they got it all stripped?
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The only part of wood that was wet and rotted was right over the doors. (Please note it took a boatload of restraint for me not to scream I told you so. And I wanted to. I really wanted to.)
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Of course in true nothing ever goes smoothly at our house fashion? Lowes called on Friday to say the shingles that were supposed to be delivered Saturday couldn’t be because the forklift on the truck was broken. This meant my husband had to pick up 9 square of architectural shingles, tar paper, nails and water shield in his old truck.
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The photo doesn’t do it justice, but trust me… that sucker was squatted down so far I thought the rear tires would pop.
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P.S….. for those who might be interested? After exhaustive diagnosis tests, the reason the truck left us stranded in NH was a rotted vacuum line to the EKG valve. I have no idea what that is, but someone might.
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Have you ever looked at ads for products and thought, that can’t be real?
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Jerky flower bouquets for the special man in your life?
No way.
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Way.
And they’re not exactly giving them away either.
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The Ball Hammock.
Yes, my Facebook algorithm is back to its old tricks just in time for the holiday. Will I be buying my husband a rocket to put in his pants?
No.
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I will not be asking him to release the Kraken either.
Well, not that one anyway.
And finally the last gift I won’t be buying him…
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Ball therapy.
Just…. no.
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I recently commented on a blog friend’s post about my dislike of the ever popular photo Christmas card. After voicing my opinion, I was asked “Are you… Scrooge?” To which I answer most emphatically… no!
But for me… the joy of the annual Christmas card exchange is knowing that someone far away, someone I may not have seen for 15 years, someone I don’t communicate with on a regular basis, took the time to sit down and think of me. To actually pick up a pen and jot down a message of holiday cheer…. in good old fashioned ink. In the virtual, digital, and (don’t get me wrong I love my tech) impersonal world in which we live? That still means something.
So when I get cards like this –
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They leave me cold. Want to include a family photo in your card? Great, I’d love to see you and your hoard of grandchildren. But not like this –
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Where I have absolutely no idea who’s who or from which loins they sprung.
Nope. You have to do more than format some photos online and stick it in an envelope with no handwritten signature or bon mots for me to feel that merry tingle.
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Old fashioned? Probably. But then I still send handwritten thank you notes like my momma taught me.
And if I’m the only one who feels this way? So be it. You do you, I’ll do me. My cards and envelopes always have been… and always will be… hand written. And if you’re lucky enough to make the cut on my ever dwindling Christmas card list (deadbeats who haven’t reciprocated in 5 years are history) you won’t get a typewritten letter detailing the mind numbing minutia of my life in the past year. (Do not get me started on those! I neither need, nor want to know the results of your step son’s colonoscopy or how great aunt Edna is dealing with those pesky cysts.) But you will get a few words from someone who thought enough of you to take the time to put pen to paper.
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*Disclaimer – the post to which I refer is this one by Swinged Cat.
And while my dislike of photo cards stands, I’d like to give him a shout out for at least going the extra mile and doing something humorous.
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One of these things is not like the others.
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Which makes me wonder what that poor bird did to be ostracized.
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And speaking of wild turkeys, did you know they make excellent snow shovelers?
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We cleared the path but they’re enlarging the dining room.
And speaking of paths…
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Now that the man cave is being readied, more shoveling is required after every storm.
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Welcome… one and all.
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Aside from the wreaths on our home’s windows, this was the extent of my lackluster Christmas decorating this year.
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Snowflakes lights in the Barn Mahal. Battery powered and on a timer.
Ho! Ho! Hum…
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And while Christmas will feel a lot different this year, there are some things to look forward to.
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We were invited to a few get togethers last weekend, but passed on all of them. I’m afraid I just don’t trust people well enough to gather in groups yet.
So I took a picture of my new, appropriately patriotic flowering plant….
And we stayed home to mow the lawn instead.
Yard work is an all day event ’round here, but it’s quite satisfying.
The daylilies are popping…. and when we were through mowing and whacking and trimming we fired up the grill.
And had an adult beverage while the husband stared, still enraptured by his new toy and it’s viewing window.
( Latest Seagram’s flavor review: Wild Berries – meh. Won’t be buying that one again.)
After some truly marvelous steaks, husband raked grass clumps…. and while I was cleaning up the kitchen?
I looked out the window….. and took a picture through the screen which looks like a bad acid trip.
( Or so I’ve been told. I have no personal experience. No. Not me. Uh uh. )
But yes.
That cute little bugger was at it again.
Eating one of the flowers he’s not supposed to like to eat.
Someone needs to revise that list.
It was finally dark enough to check out the lights we’d paid a small fortune to see at Busch Gardens.
Have you ever stood in a freezing cold circle of strangers and stared at a tree?
We did.
And I felt like a Who.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas as much as the next person.
But Christmas in Busch Gardens? Loud and crowded, filled with screaming, unruly, sugared up children as well as their rude, cell phone addicted parents…. and utterly devoid of the old world charm they were attempting to replicate?
No.
But we smiled… and enjoyed the company of those we love.
If not the techno extravaganza.
I read there were 10 million lights in Christmas Town…. and I believe it.
If it stood still? They lit it.
Admittedly there were some pretty spots.
But the crowds pushed you along at a pace not conducive to enjoying them.
There were numerous theaters you could enter and view a show…. for a large price.
But we did stumble on this extremely blue one for free.
Naturally there was no place left to sit…
So we stood off to the side and listened for a while.
Until our teeth were chattering again.
Thank God for the warm up stations.
At least they got that right.
This was an impressive section of lights.
Although I was constantly getting bumped into when I stopped and attempted to focus a shot.
That tree at the end?
Shone like the sun.
It was so damn bright….. I think my retinas actually screamed.
In case I forgot to mention it….. trying to stay together and find your way around this place in the dark amidst the crowds of screaming children and oblivious parents? A total nightmare. We had no idea where we were half the time and by the time we decided to head back to the parking lot?
We couldn’t find a map, no less the exit. And I think they plan it that way. We even went into the stores and asked the staff how to get out …. but they looked at us like the proverbial deer in headlights.
Maybe they never get out…
I don’t know.
Asking the plastic polar bears seemed like a waste of time.
So we kept walking.
Took a right past the ice castle…. then a left…. then a right… and another left…. and backed up… and crossed a bridge…. and turned around….. and found ourselves back at the damned ice castle.
We walked and walked.
And shivered and chattered and froze.
We also blessed the day man discovered fire.
But then we finally saw something familiar.
And I was never so happy to see a fake European village square in my life.
Joy to the World my *ss.
I was only joyful when we found the exit, waited on yet another long line for the shuttle, rode the sardine can to the parking lot with 50 tired, cranky children and worn out adults and got into our car.
Christmas Town at Busch Gardens Williamsburg?
Bah humbug.
Overpriced and over rated.
