Tag Archives: marriage

Baby barn work continues.

 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my husband during our long and happy marriage, it’s that he doesn’t like to rush things.

Projects that should take a day, take a week. Projects that should take a week, take a month. Projects that should take a month, well… you get the idea. He’s been working on our big barn for what seems like forever and it’s still not finished.

 

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So our baby barn/shed needs to be torn down and rebuilt. Husband decided the frame of the building and the existing wood on the roof were sound, and is attempting to tear down the rotten parts and rebuild around them.

First off is the old shingles.

 

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There’s no real reason for this picture other than the fact I love to see a man sweeping.

It’s porn for women.

 

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But I digress…..

 

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Shingles off the front side, tar paper off the lower half.

 

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Section of roof off… so he can remove the section of wall below.

 

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It was at this point he decided to level the building.

 

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And that involved stomping all my flowers into the dirt, which made me….

 

 

And run for a trowel.

 

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Flowers dug up…

 

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Potted and moved to the relative safety of the big barn porch.

Of course by the time I’d turned around, he’d stolen bricks and edgers from my garden beds to raise the building.

 

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Which made me….

 

 

And run to gather them up before I was left borderless.

 

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One new section of wall in place, old section of roof replaced.

 

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If you’re wondering how long this operation took?

An entire 4 day holiday weekend.

Yes, 4 friggin’ days!

Reason being, my husband is the least organized man on earth and had none of the materials he needed when he started this project and kept having to run to the store… a half an hour away. He can also never find any of his tools and spends 20 minutes cursing and kicking things over looking for them until he gives up and asks me.

Of course he also had to get a haircut, have breakfast with the boys, hit a yard sale, drive an hour to complain to the man who painted his truck last year because it’s already starting to chip, visit his brother, sharpen the lawn mower blades, stop at the pub for a beer and wash his car. Did he have to do all that while trying to rebuild the baby barn?

No. He did not.

But now you see why weekend projects take months.

Fast forward to Monday afternoon. We lay out and cut tar paper…

 

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While a storm moves in.

 

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Have you ever tried to lay tar paper on a roof in the wind and rain?

 

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It’s not fun. Yours truly was on the other ladder and had to put  her phone inside so there aren’t any pictures of me soaking wet and wind blown…. laying across the paper as it was ripping off the roof in a deluge.

Good times.

 

not

 

At this rate, I think the project will be done by the time Elon Musk reaches Mars….

Or Richard Simmons stages a comeback.

 

 

Stay tuned.

 

 

 

 

Things I like today… Part 7

 

I like…

This tee shirt I picked up at Goodwill the other day.

 

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If my husband would just follow this one simple rule, life would be so much more pleasant.

I like…

The new yellow kiwi fruit.

 

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Have you tried them?

 

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Yum!

I like….

The Annual Damariscotta PumpkinFest Regatta.

(And you thought we only raced zucchini in Maine. Pfft!)

 

 

 

But this year, I really like the pumpkin they’re using to advertise it.

 

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I like…

Finding multiple praying mantises (manti?) on the baby barn we’re remodeling.

Did you know the female praying mantis bites off her partner’s head after sex?

Clearly she’s a woman who doesn’t like to cuddle.

 

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I like…

Apple season.

 

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Our trees are loaded with juicy fruit…

And soon my belly will be full of juicy pie and fritters.

 

actual video of me after eating juicy pie and fritters

Things I don’t like today… Part 3

 

I don’t like….

Weed wacking around one of our stone walls and having a frog jump out in front of me.

I swear I didn’t see him…

 

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And literally cut him in half.

*Gulp*

 

I don’t like…..

Sitting at a bar and having a creepy disembodied head on a stick tied to a doll stare at me all night.

 

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Like I need another reason to drink?

Ack!

 

I don’t like….

Being disappointed.

Remember when I posted about the miracle of my husband cleaning out the garage, and how the old sink he brought home from the dump was gone?

 

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Yeah. I found it in the barn.

Very disappointing.

And finally,

 

I don’t like….

Pressure.

 

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Since my husband can’t decide when he’s going to retire, he’s forbidden any travel this year so he can sell back his leave.

Doesn’t he realize I’m duty bound to blog our adventures?

Damn it…

Now someone will beat to me to it!

 

Did you know… a challenge.

 

So the last time I did one of these quite a few people knew what I know, and that’s disappointing.

So I’m upping my game, reaching deep into the grey matter to find some heretofore unknown tidbits because….

 

 

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Did you know….

Hedgehogs were called urchins in medieval times?

The first recorded use of the word “hedgehog” wasn’t until the 15th century.

 

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Did you know…

In France you can marry a dead person?

Article 171 of the French civil code states, “The President of the Republic may, for grave reasons, authorize the celebration of the marriage where one of the future spouses is dead.”

Maybe it’s just me, but is that really cause for celebration?

 

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Did you know….

Pope Adrian VI died after a fly got stuck in his throat as he was drinking from a fountain?

That couldn’t have been pretty.

 

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Did you know…

Robert E. Lee wore a size 4 1/2 shoe?

That doesn’t speak well for the size of his….

Oh, never mind.

 

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Did you know…

Endurance training that involves alternating between high and low intensity is called fartlek? It comes from the Swedish word fart, meaning speed and lek, meaning play.

Oh, those silly Swedes.

 

 

 

Did you know….

The amount of potato chips Americans eat each year weighs 6 times more than the Titanic.

Damn. That’s a lot of spuds.

 

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The only truth in advertising you’re ever apt to see.

 

So…. this is happening.

 

You may remember me posting pictures of our little red barn/shed.

We use it as a shed, but it was originally a small barn complete with horse. The horse is long gone…. and 40 odd years later?

The barn/shed is almost gone as well.

 

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Falling apart?

You could say that…

 

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Rotted wood?

 

 

The mere fact that it’s still standing never ceases to amaze me.

 

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It’s horrible. An eye sore on our otherwise lovely property. The bane of my existence for a long, long time.

It’s state of disrepair is the main reason we spent $50,000 and 7 years of nights and weekends building a new and much larger barn.

 

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The plan? All the mowers and weed whackers, the snow blower, the tractor and assorted yard tools that were in the shed/barn were supposed to go into the new barn…. and the eyesore would be torn down.

 

 

But that never happened, and now the husband….. who has already filled the new barn with CRAP wants to rebuild the shed/barn to continue housing the mowers, tractor etc.

So this is happening.

 

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Husband deemed part of the interior framing sound, and started what I thought was deconstruction of the back half…. which needs to be completely rebuilt..

Now my idea of deconstruction consists of ripping off the roof, then the walls. The husband’s?

I’m not quite sure.

 

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He put up a new piece of wood…

 

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Ostensibly to brace the roof… though why you need to brace something you’re tearing down is beyond me.

 

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But look at the piece he’s bracing! Rotted doesn’t begin to describe it…

Then…

 

 

Yeah. He trimmed it…

The rotted piece of wood.

 

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He sawed off a section of wall… by hand, even though the chainsaw was right there.

 

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And made a bigger hole.

 

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He elongated the brace….

 

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And added wood running along the bottom.

 

 

He was supposed to be tearing it down…. so WTH?

Naturally I had to ask.

And naturally, he wouldn’t answer.

It was hot, he was cranky and I dared to question his technique.

Silly me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My only question is… why?

 

I never know what I’ll find in my husband’s barn.

The other day? I found this hanging on the wall….

 

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After I was through shuddering, I named it Creepy Baby.

Because, it’s a baby. And it’s creepy. I swear it’s eyes follow me around the room, and you know that never ends well.

I also saw this perched on the window sill.

 

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Yes….

 

 

It is what you think it is.

 

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The question is….

 

 

As a decorative item, it leaves a lot to be desired.

 

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And I can only hope the mechanism used to make it go boom isn’t in there as well.

But with my husband?

You never know.

 

 

 

 

Things I don’t like today… chapter 2.

 

I don’t like…

 

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Going out to the barn for something and finding the husband has bought another…. yeah, whatever the hell that is.

It’s a good thing he has a fold up cot in there. He might be needing it.

 

I don’t like….

Going  out to the barn for something, and not being able to find it because the husband has too much  rusty old useless crap  treasure stacked in there. And I really don’t like having some of that crap fall on my still sore, recently broken, now permanently out of whack toe.

 

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Yeah.

Another month of not wearing a shoe. Good times…

 

I don’t like…

Getting out of my car after driving to the store and finding I’d committed Monarchacide.

 

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Poor little beauty.

I didn’t see you…. honestly.

 

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And finally,

I don’t like….

 

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Unicorn onesies for adults.

Come on….

 

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I say, that’s who.

I will not have a good time cleaning and organizing my house in a unicorn onesie.

Good God, what’s wrong with people?

That’s what tequila is for.

 

 

 

 

Because apparently… this is a thing.

 

Chickens.

You all know I like them. You all know my husband is the evil man who won’t let me have them.

(Okay, so in complete honesty he says I can have them… but I have to be the one who goes out in the minus 20 degree winter temperatures to feed, water, and clean the coop in mid January and we all know that’s not happening.)

 

 

Yeah… no.

But if I did have them?

I would totally be on board with the latest chicken trend.

 

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Tutus!

 

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Chickens…

 

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In tutus!

 

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Granted, not all of them look thrilled with the idea.

 

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And okay, watch out for that one. He looks homicidal….

But chickens in tutus!

It’s a good thing.

 

 

Thank you Martha.

I thought you might.

 

 

And they talk about women!

 

The hunt for a new refrigerator continues, and just as I had finished extensive research and narrowed the field down to this one…

 

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The husband decided he wanted to go shopping and check them out for himself.

Granted, it’s a large purchase and I wanted him to like what I chose.

But ya know what?

 

 

I took him to the store and showed him my choice, which he walked right by and made a bee line for:

 

 

No.

And again? No.

Aside from the jaw dropping price tag? There’s no way I’m going to buy a refrigerator that tells me I’m out of cucumbers or what to cook for dinner.

Christ, do we really need “smart” appliances?

The day I’m too old and doddering to realize I’m out of cucumbers? I’ll stop cooking altogether.

In case you’re unfamiliar, there’s basically a computer on the door. You can make grocery lists, find recipes with the ingredients it knows are in there, and it will even link with your phone so you can check your expiration dates from remote locations.

Among other useful things….

 

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Geesh.

All I want is cold food and ice.

 

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Great. Scratch the ice.

So we shopped, and shopped, and shopped.

And the husband said that one’s shelves were too small,  that one’s lights were too bright, that one’s drawers were too deep…. etc etc etc.

To which, after grueling 5 hours I said..

“Come on Goldilocks!”

 

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So he picked one.

 

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And though it’s almost exactly the same as the one I’d picked a week earlier?

This one is $700 more.

 

 

So, men?

I don’t want to hear you say your wives are spending all the money.

My husband can out shop the best of ’em.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of these things is not like the others….

 

I wish someone had told me kissing was a full contact sport.

I would have worn appropriate protection.

 

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You’d think after many happy years of marriage the husband and I would have perfected the technique, but alas…. accidents happen.

 

 

And this kiss was rather like a train wreck.

Yesterday when the other half came home from work, I went into the kitchen to give him a smooch.

I moved in, he moved in… and bam!

 

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He broke my toe.

 

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Talk about seeing stars.

And not in a good way…

 

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Sadly, my feet are my worst feature and I have troubles. The troubles of a woman 30 years older than she actually is.

Bunions? Check.

The beginning of hammer toes? Check.  (Thanks mom, it’s hereditary)

And I’m always barefoot in the summer so this isn’t my first rodeo with broken toes.

It is however, my first broken toe due to kissing.

Which makes me wonder if I need to wear this next time we get frisky in the bedroom…

 

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(Minus the cigar of course.)

Either that…

Or I need to learn  Taekwon-toe.

 

 

I know…

But I couldn’t resist!