Tag Archives: marriage

We will prevail….

 

Time for our annual battle with the flowering quince.

My husband hates trimming this bush. Hates it with a passion.

 

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The monster is covered in thorns and not easily tamed. Cutting a path through uncharted Amazon rain forest while being chased by pygmies with poisonous darts might actually be preferable.

Every year we do it, and every year he grumbles.

This year he suggested using the chain saw.

But I had visions of this:

 

 

And managed to dissuade him.

I started with the electric hedge trimmer…

 

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And managed to cut smaller branches away from the house.

 

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Then the husband brought the ladder and the muscle.

Quince bushes are hard wood, and mature ones like ours fight back.

I was tempted to suggest something like this:

 

 

 

But managed to hold my tongue.

While he was angrily hacking away at that, I moved over to the also out of control Burning Bushes.

 

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These turn a vibrant red in the fall and are much easier to trim.

But I didn’t get very far because hidden in between them and the boxwood? I found a catbird’s nest.

 

 

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No, not that kind.

 

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This kind.

 

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And I scared the poor mother right off it.

(Worry not, she’s back.)

 

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Avoiding the nest meant the bushes are still large, but at least you can see the windows now. The top half anyway.

As for the quince…

 

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My idea of a neatly shaped shrub differs greatly from the husband’s …

But he had a sharp implement in his hands and I figured I shouldn’t push the issue.

 

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Yes, dear.

It looks fine.

 

 

Please throw that away….

 

My husband is a hoarder.

He collects. He acquires.

He’s never met an empty space he didn’t immediately want to fill.

And he saves everything.

 

 

I’ve learned over the years that if I let him have certain sections of our home… the garage, the shed, the barn, the cellar and a closet….. I can just close the doors and pretend they’re not filled with crap.

 

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He’s a good man, and a wonderful husband. Lord knows there are worse things to deal with than too much stuff .

Of course I also have to clear paths now and then… a la the Collyer Brothers.

It took the police 5 hours to find his body.

 

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When it starts to drive me nuts?

I tell myself it’s just a quirk of his personality and I love him anyway. Sometimes I have to say that twice.

But the other day I realized he’s been stuffing my file drawers full of old, unwanted documents for years.. and that won’t be tolerated.

 

 

Leave and earnings statements from 1986? Check!

Insurance bills from 2001? Why not.

Water purity test results from 2007? Yup.

A Groupon for a restaurant that went out of business 7 years ago? Of course.

His late mother’s newspaper delivery renewal form? Sure.

Doctors instructions for a colonoscopy prep in 1999? Oh, yeah.

Why does he want these things?

I have no earthly idea, but they sure pile up.

 

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( Yes, that’s a stash of alcohol in my office.

Don’t judge, the liquor cabinet is full. )

 

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So I shredded. And shredded. And shredded some more.

I shredded so long and so much….

The shredder was literally smoking.

Which could have gone very wrong…. very quickly.

 

 

3 hours of sorting and shredding and almost catching the house on fire later, it was done.

And you know what that means?

Tomorrow he’s going to ask me for that Security Awareness Virtual Initiative Course completion certificate from 2003.

I just know it.

 

 

 

Because he can’t stand it when I’m right.

 

He really can’t.

Remember when I blogged about the husband’s new toy not fitting in our old barn/shed?

It looked something like this:

 

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I was right…

And apparently that didn’t sit well with the other half so he did a little remodeling.

 

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This is our old shed/barn that needs to be torn down.

 

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Years ago, it housed a horse.

Now?

 

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It’s a pile of rotted wood.

How rotted?

 

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Really rotted.

It’s an eyesore that drives me nuts every single day.

The fact that it’s still standing defies all logic.

 

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I’ve come to the conclusion that it hates me…

And refuses to die just because it can.

 

 

But back to the tractor.

The husband figured if he could straighten out a door…

 

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He could get it inside.

 

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Which he did, but not far enough inside due to that pesky center pole.

You know the one…

It holds up the rotted roof?

 

 

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Yeah.

We don’t need that.

 

 

Mission accomplished.

 

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He proved me wrong… and got the tractor in the shed.

How long there will be a roof over it is anyone’s guess.

 

This literally makes me twitch.

 

A few years ago my husband built a barn.

It’s a lovely barn….

 

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Complete with a farmer’s porch for me and my late afternoon book.

Or margarita.

(Who are we kidding?

I don’t always bring the book.)

 

 

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He’d never built anything before and aside from a few minor boo boos, it turned out very well.

The first floor was meant to house the riding lawn mower, 2 motorcycles, 3  push mowers, 2 weed wackers, a snow blower and other assorted tools.

That was why we built it. Because our old barn/shed is falling apart and we have no where else to put all those things.

 

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See?

When I say falling apart… I mean literally falling.

Needless to say the barn did not go up quickly. It was worked on nights and weekends…. and from the first footer to now?

 

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7 years.

And it’s still not really finished.

Last weekend the husband was back at it, putting up interior walls.

 

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Of course there’s a problem with the construction taking that long.

It gave the husband time to fill the barn with crap.

So much crap that not only is there no room for the lawn mowers and motorcycles…

There’s now barely enough room for him to put up walls.

 

 

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And that literally makes me twitch.

 

 

Why do you see an office chair, a microwave, a water cooler, a wagon wheel, a fold up bed, 2 metal wheelchair ramps, a driftwood tree and a card table in there?

Because someone was throwing them away….

And they were free.

 

 

Not pictured are 3 front doors, 2 locked safes without combinations, a potato planter, an 8 track tape player and a scale for weighing bags of grain.

Will he be planting potatoes or weighing grain bags while listening g to 8 track tapes?

No.

Will he be replacing our front door?

Hell no.

But apparently knowing he could is enough.

 

Boys and their (too damned big) toys.

 

The husband had been sputtering about one for a year, so I knew ….

 

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Naturally he had to have the biggest one they sold…

 

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And we had to rent a damned trailer to get the silly thing home.

 

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Sigh.

Did we need a lawn mower with a cut radius almost as wide as I am tall?

No.

 

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But we’ve got one now.

And contrary to popular belief…. bigger is not better when trying to fit said mower in your shed.

 

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I told him it wouldn’t fit before he bought it.

 

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I told him it wouldn’t fit after he bought it.

 

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You know where this is going, right?

 

 

It wouldn’t fit.

 

 

Yeah. Who saw that coming?

So now…

 

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His precious car is going to live outside so the even more precious new toy can have half of the garage to itself.

 

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Men and their toys.

 

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Driving women crazy since time immemorial….

A modern fairy tale.

 

Once upon a time there was a Princess.

We shall call her….

River.

 

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(River has been called a lot of things in her day, but never a Princess.

So if you’re calling?

Make it loud.)

 

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Princess River loves her flowers. She plants them whenever and wherever she can.

And since the Princess lives in a kingdom that’s covered by snow and ice half of the year?

 

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She takes her plantings seriously.

 

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When she first moved into her castle, she toiled long and hard until she had the biggest and most beautiful garden bed in the land.

In early summer it sprouted stunning displays of Lupine….

 

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And myriads of other riotous, colorful blooms all season long.

 

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Princess River was content.

 

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This went on for many happy years until her husband, the evil Prince, started mowing in close proximity to the bed. He also mowed in the wrong direction.

Bad Prince.

Bad!

She asked him to be more careful.

She pleaded with him to go the other way.

But month after month the dastardly toad blew grass clippings in to her carefully tended flower garden.

 

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(You do.

And I shall…)

The Princess weeded, she turned the soil, she mulched….  but to no avail.

After a year or two, the grass took over.

 

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It choked all Princess River’s lovely flowers to death.

 

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Princess River was not happy.

She had to leave the castle and hump 12 bags of mulch across the moat.

 

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She had to wack down all her blooms, rake up the dead bodies, reset the brick border, lay weed block paper, re-mulch and reset the pavers that anchored the Royal Bath of Birds.

The sky darkened. The wind blew.

It started to rain.

And she ran out of mulch.

 

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(Mathematical coverage formulas were never her strong suit.)

Princess River had to abandon her project when a deluge of biblical proportion battered her royal self.

 

 

 

She will be victorious…. someday.

Until then she will slowly plot her revenge upon the evil Prince and his heinous grass cutting machines.

She will plan carefully.

The punishment must fit the crime.

 

 

 

 

Birthday presents no one gets excited about.

 

We recently celebrated my husband’s birthday.

And as I posted earlier, among other things….

I gave him a rock.

Because I’m that kind of wife.

We celebrated at a friend’s house, and naturally he was speechless.

 

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Okay, at first he didn’t know what the hell it was.

But that’s not always a bad thing. And he could honestly say no one had ever given him a rock before… so that should count for something.

 

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But if you thought that was odd?

Witness the gift our friends gave him.

 

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At first it was a box filled with the weirdest packing peanuts I’d ever seen.

 

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Then it was a little box that said..

 

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And then…

 

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And…

 

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Are you noticing the trend?

 

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This went on forever.

 

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And while I’m sure it was funnier with the 3 margaritas I’d had, even sober ….you have to applaud the effort.

Finally he reached the end.

 

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And I thought, oh yeah.

This is going to be good.

I was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

 

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Huh?

 

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Turns out it was a war nickel which had popped up while my husband was playing poker with the guys a while back. Husband is a coin collector, and had explained what it was to the group.

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So….

Yeah.

They gave him a nickel.

And I gave him a rock.

Do we know how to make a birthday boy happy or what?

 

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