We went over to visit some friends the other night.
Sat outside and had a few cocktails Covid style.
And then out of the corner of his eye…. the husband spied something.
It was this mini chain saw his friend’s wife had bought to clear some small brush in their backyard.
And, because you know it had to happen….
He really can’t help himself.
Because if I don’t laugh I might have to hurt someone.
Add a margarita and it sounds like a plan.
Because if you won’t wear a mask, why should I wear pants?
And after almost 4 months of doing nothing?
Trust me… you want me to wear pants.
Ah, Spam. The miracle meat no one wants to eat.
Wait a minute….. do you think they could behind this whole thing?
The virus is a hoax engineered to make people eat 83 year old canned ham!
Or maybe….
It’s a canine revenge plot.
Either way, we’re stuck with it…
And it’s nice to see Maine stores still have a sense of humor.
Just when you thought you couldn’t see anything else that could surprise you.
Huh.
He gives autographs?
Color me surprised.
The woodchucks.
Adorable, but hungry.
And there’s no rhyme or reason to what they’ll eat.
This echinacea?
Stripped to a stalk the same day I planted it.
They devoured it before I could even get a picture, and if you know me? You know that’s fast.
This candy cane Dianthus? Nope. They left it alone.
The exact same plant on the other side of the garden bed?
A mere shadow of itself.
WTF?
So when it came time to replant the bed I had removed the woodchuck chewed mallow from, I went to the experts and got a list.
A list of woodchuck proof flowers they were guaranteed not to eat.
Blanket flower? Check!
Planted two, they haven’t touched them.
(Please note dianthus is on the list and we all know how that turned out.)
Foxglove? Check!
They literally took one bite and ran.
Good thing since it’s the source of digitalis.
Last on the list? Yarrow.
If you’ve ever had deer nibble your gardens to a nub, you know they hate yarrow.
Every critter hates yarrow…. so I planted yarrow.
So…..
Yeah.
The little buggers are screwing with me.
There’s no other explanation.
And look at that belly…
They’re getting fat doing it!
This popped up in my Facebook memories today and since I wasn’t blogging here 5 years ago?
I have to share.
As seen in Goodwill, a rubber chicken.
It was a dog toy, but a more wrong rubber chicken you’re not apt to find.
I suppose you could say they were singing…. but I’m afraid my mind went elsewhere.
And for a further chuckle?
Read the detailed description that came with them.
I dare you not to laugh.
“This rubber chicken is not any ordinary chicken, when you squeeze him he makes a loud screaming sound, it can help you relaxing your pressure and bringing you good mood. This squeaky rubber chicken will make a comical addition to your dog’s toy chest! Screaming sound when you squeeze it “Squeeze me when you are happy. I will make you and your friend laugh” “Squeeze me when you are not happy. I will help you relax” “My shrilling scream will let you have unexpected fun and entertainment, relax and release stress.” Once you have this funny scream chicken you can lose your press and became more smooth.”
So go on….. squeeze your chicken.
Hear him scream.
Four days in and we were finally ready to start adding the balustrades.
This involved a large amount of math, which as we have previously discussed… is not our strong suit.
Measuring was required. So much measuring. The fractions, the division…
Oh! The horror.
I carefully calculated the spacing of 8 rails for each section. I checked and rechecked to make sure it was accurate.
Which meant 7 of them fit perfectly.
Am I good or what?
Okay, so there were seven instead of 8.
It still looked good and things were flowing smoothly.
Until the screw heads starting popping off.
Once they were in the railing.
Which made me cringe…. and the husband grab his all purpose fix it tool.
Have hammer, will travel.
Thankfully no harm was done and we finished 3 out of the 4 sections before calling it a day.
One more section here..
Then we’ll move on to the other side.
Hopefully the heat wave will be over by then.
Hot flashing menopausal Maine women with broken toes do not fare well in temperatures over 90.
In the last three months I’ve seen pasta fly off the grocery store shelves.
Pandemic shopping fever has wiped them clean at times and all that was left were substitutes.
Kale linguini?
Not if my life depended on it.
Squash angel hair?
Thank you, no.
So imagine my horror when I saw this in the refrigerated section this morning.
Tofu fettuccine and spaghetti.
What fresh Hell is this!
I picked up a package and it felt like slimy rubber…. which is probably what it tastes like it as well.
Temperatures and humidity rose to an unbearable level but the deck railing project moved on.
Slowly.
And with copious amounts of sweat.
Rotted wood here.
Rotted wood there.
And then my husband decided to add the piece of J channel that he was supposed to add 16 years ago when he enlarged the deck.
(No judgement on the dirty siding please, we have yet to buy a new pressure washer.)
The existing piece only ran halfway and the task of replacing it has been on my honey do list for almost two decades.
So off to the store he went, coming back with white J channel, while the old piece is beige.
This was a problem.
That he knew he could solve.
Hours were spent on this tiny annoying detail.
The old piece wouldn’t come out without tearing off the siding, and the siding had been caulked around the door and corner post so that was more hassle than it was worth.
He tried to slide it over, then under, and then up around the old piece but nothing worked.
Hot and frustrated, he ended up cutting a section of the old piece out and we were left with this.
A gap which will probably fill with water when it rains, but hey… it matches.
And if you’re wondering what I was doing during this time?
I was breaking the little toe on my right foot which isn’t so little anymore.
Ever the helpful wife, that’s me.
For something so small, it’s amazing how much that sucker can swell and hurt.
The result of my injury?
Husband had to do my job of staining the new wood.
In what little bit of shade he could find.
An entire day, and only we accomplished 3 things.
Yay us.
Flowers –
For a pure burst of summer color?
You can’t beat peonies.
They’re bright, lush and smell heavenly.
Flags –
Or as my husband calls them…
Guest towels from the spare bathroom you nail into a long piece of wood when your wife isn’t looking.
Foolishness –
The gift a friend gives you because she knows you’re allergic to horsefly bites.
With a name like the Bug Bite Thing, you don’t expect it to work.
And no surprise, it didn’t. A horsefly bit me, I suctioned my arm as directed and still swelled up like a politician at a pay by the plate fundraising dinner.
More foolishness –
Contains 40% urea.
WTF!
Don’t know what urea is?
Google it, I’ll wait.
**********************
Right?
Who in the world wants to rub urine on their feet.
And on the off chance I ever do? I’ll save myself some money and ask the neighbor’s dog to pee on me. Lord knows he’s been trying to for years.
But not before another trip to the store to buy wood.
(Yes, I know the husband is wearing his mask incorrectly but his glasses kept fogging up)
Two perfect pieces for the top of the railing had to be found. And even though we were searching through the more expensive smoothed cedar boards?
They were rife with holes, chops, cracks and warty blemishes.
After 45 minutes…
We moved on to the 2×4’s.
Is it any wonder our small weekend projects turn into 3 month long slog fests?
So this is our deck, and those are the railings that will be replaced.
Hopefully by the end of summer.
Of 2020.
First step…. remove the old railings.
The first few were easy as they had been screwed.
Then it got harder with massive doubled rusty nails that didn’t want to let go.
Did I mention we picked the middle of a heat wave with record breaking temperatures to start this project.
How hot was it….?
Okay, not quite. Though it felt that way.
That thermometer was sitting on the table in direct sunlight.
It was actually this hot, in the shade.
And for Maine?
That is insanely frickin’ hot.
But progress was made.
And halted when rotting beam sections had to be cut out.
With 1950’s era tools.
Yes, I’m afraid so.
And you know what happens when you use power tools from the middle of the last century?
Nothing good.
