Tag Archives: marriage

It’s a miracle… albeit a small one.

 

By now I think you’re all familiar with the giant barn we built a few years ago.

 

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The husband had visions of a man cave complete with bar, pool table and plenty of space to display his  totally useless crap  treasures.

What he got was a little different.

 

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This is what happens when you’re a hoarder in training. You have a more than ample 2 story space and you fill it with random  rubbish, recycled debris  stuff.

So the other day when the husband asked me if I would help him clear some of it out?

 

 

I admit I was a trifle excited.

 

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The future yard sale pile grew larger.

But don’t faint…. it’s mostly my things, with some items a friend left in his basement for the husband when he moved to Oklahoma. Yes, that’s the $800 scooter we bought on Craig’s List for the husband’s brother who said he wanted it but didn’t like it and never used it. My eyes did some serious rolling that day let me tell you.

 

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There was a lot of heavy lifting involved as none of the husband’s  rusty crap  treasures are light.

What… you don’t have an adjustable height potato planter that weighs as much as a medium sized water buffalo?

Why ever not.

 

 

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Of course he wanted most of these items upstairs.

 

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See that?

It’s a hay bale fork with a pulley system for the hay bales we’ll never have or be required to move. And guess what? When you drop it on your toe while climbing the stairs….

You curse it.

Quite colorfully as it turns out.

 

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As we spent the next few hours moving and sweeping and organizing…  ( okay, that was me and it was pretty fruitless because the husband refused to put anything in the trash pile, even this collection of tires that don’t fit any vehicle we own )  I realized my miracle clean out was really just a ‘move things around so you can see the floor again’ type of miracle. But hey, I’ll take what I can get.

Before  –

 

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After –

 

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Floor!

 

Part of it anyway.

 

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I wish I could make him understand how wonderful a space this could be if he would just part with all the junk. And I don’t mean everything….. mixed in with all the why the hell did you buy that! stuff are some legitimately interesting things.

 

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This old butter table is sweet.

 

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And I do love the old apple press.

Otis the Opsrey is waiting patiently to be installed on the roof as well.

 

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Though that baby is all mine and cost me a pretty penny.

But the ridiculous things he picks up and brings home because they’re free?

 

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They’ve got to go.

 

 

 

No hole too small.

 

Maybe I should rethink that title…. don’t need the porn spammers dropping by again.

Anyway, after we planted our free trees the other day we had to do something with this under performing flowering plum that was now ruining the alignment.

 

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We planted 2 of these before the big barn construction began, but one died and the survivor gets eaten alive by Japanese beetles every year. I was all for heaving it, but the husband had other ideas.

When my mother died in 2014, she was cremated and I planted some of her ashes with a lovely tulip tree in our backyard.

 

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It did well for 4-5 years until we had crazy late spring freezes and frosts that it couldn’t tolerate.

Since I planned to replace it this year?  Husband decided to do a little transplanting.

 

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I  (very helpfully)  told him we’d need a bigger hole since we were moving a mature 12 year old tree with an extensive root system.  With this  (ever so helpful)  advice, he did what he always does….. and promptly ignored it.

 

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Digging up the plum was an absolute nightmare. The roots were thick and deep and under the topsoil? Hard clay that might as well be cement.

 

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Our farming neighbor offered to come over with his backhoe and scoop it right up, but no.

 

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The husband didn’t want to tear up his lawn and went with the spiderweb approach to removal.

It took us approximately two hours of digging and tugging and even then we ended up chopping what had to be 10 foot long roots.

Whoever said gardening isn’t a workout needs to be bitch slapped.

 

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This photo caught the other half gasping for air after the last pull.

 

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I had serious doubts the hole out back was large enough, but away we went.

 

 

 

Yeah, not quite.

 

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There was a lot of twisting. And turning. And laughing.  ( Okay, that was just me. Husband didn’t find it the least bit amusing. )

Some quite inventive spiderweb root trench digging later……

 

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He made it work.

 

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Whether it survives is anyone’s guess.

Health or bust.

 

In the midst of a viral apocalypse, it’s hard not to think about your health.

Am I safe? Will I be infected?

And if so, should I be binge watching Netflix… or picking out a granite color and font?

 

 

Thankfully I’m a very healthy person. One might say boringly so.

I’ve never broken a bone.

I’ve never had the flu, an ear infection, strep throat, the measles, pink eye or a cavity.

I still have my tonsils, appendix and wisdom teeth.

Until I was 48 years old, I’d never had the chicken pox either.

And trust me…. when I caught them from the husband because he came down with shingles?

I was not a happy camper.

 

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No, those aren’t pimples….

And if you think it sucked having chicken pox as a kid? Try doing it when you’re almost 50. It’s not only Hella uncomfortable…. but dangerous to boot.

Matter of fact, it was such an oddity to present at that age, all the doctors and nurses stopped by the exam room to take a peek.

 

 

You know all those times in your life when it was nice to feel special?

That wasn’t one of them.

But aside from that week of polka dotted misery, I’ve been blissfully healthy.

Heck, I’d never even been in the hospital until a few years ago…. and naturally, everything that could go wrong?

Did.

Quite spectacularly.

Because if you’re going to screw something up?

My motto is don’t do it halfway.

 

The last batch.

 

But really, how can you not love these art re-creations?

 

 

Look at that woman!

Having her husband’s head on a platter has simply made her day worth living.

 

 

The nose is a little less spectacular, but okay.

 

 

Wow.

Im not sure which is more disturbing, the original or the remake.

 

 

Is it me…

Or does that guy look like George Harrison’s Indian guru from the 60’s?

 

 

Art imitating life, or life imitating art?

Either way…. that man is slaying it.

And now, the final picture.

Which couldn’t be any more relevant if it tried.

 

We are definitely not mathematicians.

 

On a gloomy, overcast Sunday morning….we started putting trim board on the baby barn at 9:00am.

 

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At 10:00am we were still on the first piece.

 

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And yes, at 11:00am we were still there as well.

 

 

Frustrating?

A wee bit.

 

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Cutting angles is not our forte….. and it almost made me wish I’d paid more attention in 7th grade geometry.

 

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A lot of serious thought, planning… not to mention cursing…. was going on right there.

 

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And before you say “Use a mitre saw!”, we did. But the building is less than straight and square and when we finally did manage to get it right?

 

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It was still wrong.

 

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Thank God for flashing. It covers a multitude of sins.

 

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So this side looked good.

 

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But when we turned the corner?

Not so much.

 

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How the Hell did that happen?

There was only one solution.

 

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Sit on the big barn porch and photograph it from far away.

Yes.

Much better.

 

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More flashing, more nightmarish trim board.

And if you’re asking what I contributed to the project?

Besides acting as a general gopher…. because when the husband is up his tools are down, and when he’s down his tools are up… my contribution was this:

 

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Classic tunes on shuffle.

 

 

There he goes again, ever the optimist.

 

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Thankfully the husband used to do roofing when he was young, so yes. The shingles were perfectly level.

 

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And because he was so thrilled something was finally level?

 

 

He checked it again.

 

 

And again.

 

 

I gave up on him at 6:00pm and headed inside for dinner, but he was out there until 8:00 trying to reach the top.

 

 

He didn’t quite make it.

 

Because I know you were anxiously awaiting it’s return…..

 

It’s back.

The ongoing baby barn remodeling saga…. and for those of you just joining us? Consider yourself lucky you missed the first 300 episodes.

Winter is over in Maine, we think…. so work has begun anew.

On Saturday afternoon rotted wood was replaced.

 

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And the silly man I’m married to tried to make everything square.

 

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Look at him with his little level. Isn’t that cute?

If you remember anything from last year, you’ll know the terms level and square are completely relative when dealing with this nightmare of a building.

 

Darth

 

But hope springs eternal, and maybe sometime before we’re through that damned bubble will be in the right position.

 

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The last of the Zip siding was installed…

 

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And yes, that’s my husband’s back…. as he refused to smile for my camera.

 

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I can never quite figure his modus operandi when he works on a project……. and wondered why he made his way from the outside in to meet in the middle.

 

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This doesn’t usually bode well when you’re using a tongue and groove design.

I  (oh so)  helpfully told him this, but of course he paid no attention because I’m a woman and what do I know?

 

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Well, yes.

As a matter of fact he is.

 

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But when he tried to fit that last piece?

I admit it, I chortled while he cursed.

Which I enjoyed, because really… the world needs more chortling.

 

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Apparently I did chortle a little too loudly because I also got the look.

Which, after 36 years…. he should know has positively no effect.

 

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A little trimmed tar paper later and he called it day.