Tag Archives: men

Why does he make everything twice as difficult as it has to be?

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We have a barn that really isn’t a barn. What started out as storage space for motorcycles and lawn mowers has morphed into a custom built man cave… and now that the man cave has a heat pump? The upstairs has to be temporarily blocked off for winter before the staircase turns into a chimney.

This should have been a simple project.

I told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam. The heat pump installer told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam. The friend that helps him now and then told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam.

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Which is why the husband made a hinged door out of zip siding.

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Did I mention the husband doesn’t like to be told what to do?

After a laborious day of cursing and figuring and adjusting and fitting and more cursing….

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The husband came home to cut a piece of insulation foam.

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Which he wanted to attach to that hinged door of zip siding.

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This involved more measuring and cutting ..

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And fitting and pushing and removing and more measuring and cutting.

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Please note the non OSHA approved chunk of wood dismantling the saw’s safety feature.

More fitting.

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More measuring and cutting.

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More fitting.

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Halfway through the process, Mike Pence stopped by to say hello.

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And finally after I helped him measure, cut and fit for 3 hours to no avail… I snuck out.

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For the sake of my sanity…. as well as our marriage.

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Because some things are best left unexplored.

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Facebook ads. They’re never ending and annoying and I pay them very little mind.

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Yes, I like Hint water… but don’t need to see daily videos.

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And yes, those are some sweet shades I could easily see myself rocking next summer, but they don’t need to join the other 15 pairs I never wear in my junk drawer.

While I realize these ads are targeted to me specifically based on algorithms of my search history, every once in a while they surprise me.

As this one did the other day:

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Not being in possession of a pair, I assure you I have never actively searched for ball wash.

Trust me on this.

Of course since it popped up, I had to click. For research/ blog fodder purposes only you understand.

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Don’t be whack, GIVE A SACK.

There’s an ad slogan designed to burrow deep into your frontal cortex.

And while I admit I chortled over this, I’m not chortling now. Because you know what happens when you click on a Facebook ball wash product ad?

This:

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And this:

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I am now being inundated with less than helpful product placement.

Man meat.

What have I done!

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So maybe it wasn’t quite the miracle I thought.

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The other day I blogged about the miracle of finding my husband getting rid of things in the big barn.

I was happy!

I was thrilled!

Heck, I was downright orgasmic.

Until I walked upstairs.

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A lot of the things I thought he’d gotten rid of…

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Had just migrated upward instead. So with determination in my step I went back down to help him sort through things to throw away.

It did not go well.

Here are a few of the items he couldn’t bear to part with.

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No, you’re not seeing double. That’s a flippable measuring cup… though why on earth you’d need to flip one I don’t know.

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Blank dog tags.

A box of them.

Why? Unless he’s planning to outfit a woodchuck army…. I don’t see the point.

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A rock.

And while I’m normally all about the rocks, I do prefer mine outside…. or slowly cooling my gin and tonic.

Finally there was this:

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He wouldn’t part with it, even though he didn’t know where he’d gotten it or what the hell it was.

So let me resurrect that old blog series I used to torture you with..

Name That Crap!

What is it?

( And yes, I did research so I know the answer. )

Because nothing ever goes smoothly.

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Another day,  another section stuffed.

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Plywood ceiling sections were fitted.

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And the end was in sight.

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As were those corner shelves I told you the husband built for his speakers.

Although from this angle, they’re a lot less shelf like than I thought.

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Late in the afternoon things started to go downhill.

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And pieces had to be gently persuaded to fit in their allotted space.

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When all else fails, bang it with a hammer.

This works for almost anything, although I wouldn’t recommend it for dealing with recalcitrant family members. Bail bonds are expensive these days, and orange is not a flattering color.

Shortly after I took that picture someone hit a pole down the road from our house. Power was out for the whole road and they had to call it a day.

Which is probably a good thing. Remodeling by hammer strike rarely ends well.

Can someone please explain the logic?

 

Because I’m a mere woman and not able to comprehend the genius that is the male mind.

 

 

I understand the need to temporarily seal up the big barn doors for winter. If the husband is going to spend all that money for a heat pump, we don’t want all the lovely warm air escaping. So a few insulated foam boards, some tape and call it good… right?

(Please remember the key word is temporary. This will be important later on.)

In my previous post I shared pictures of the frame, the double layer of foam boards, the plywood, and the finishing border.

 

 

And yes, those are two antique safes that weigh the combined equivalent of a small elephant herd.

 

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Do they open?

Well, they would if my husband had the combinations… which he doesn’t.

Good times.

But back to the doors. The temporary doors that he keeps assuring me will be easily removed.

When I went out there the other day?

This:

 

 

Yes.

 

 

There is now a shelf with an old stereo mounted on the temporary doors.

 

 

And quite high up on the temporary doors I might add.

 

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High enough so yours truly can’t reach the power button… which may or may not have been intentional.

So please help me out with the male logic of this.

In the event we need to open the barn doors… because you know, they’re doors and that’s kind of their thing…. we will need to:

 

1. unscrew the shelf brackets

2. remove the shelf

3. unhook the speaker wires

4. take down the stereo

5. remove the border frame

6. remove the plywood

7. remove the double layers of foam boards

8. remove the inner frame

 

Does this sound temporary to you?

Because my female brain is having  a hard time reconciling this kind of temporary.

 

Because I can only say it here…

 

(And not to my husband, though I want to. I really want to!)

Planting apple trees in excessive summer heat, during a drought?

Not a good idea.

 

 

A week afterwards?

 

 

Most of them look like this…. and I simply have to say it before I burst.

I told you so!

 

 

It’s been crazy hot and dry. Our lawn is turning brown and crunching underfoot.

Not exactly prime transplanting conditions.

 

 

But he wouldn’t listen… so now we have 9 almost dead twigs.

 

 

And before you say it, I have watered them.

I purchased three 100′ foot expandable hoses strictly for that purpose.

I added them to my original 100′ foot hose and have repeatedly hauled the four 100′ foot hoses out to the far corners of our property watering the damned things.

 

 

One tree.

One in ten is all that looks healthy.

I told him!

But he wouldn’t listen.

 

 

Indeed.

What is it with men and old westerns?

 

They say there’s a little boy in every man….. and if that’s true?

Mine is playing cowboys and Indians.

Left to his own devices, my husband could easily watch the western channel 24 hours a day.  I know…. because True Grit, Fort Apache and Rio Bravo have been the background soundtrack to my life for the past 36 years.

He likes westerns, ergo he likes John Wayne.

Not as a real person, he neither knows nor cares who that was….. but rather as an idealized portrait of what a real man is supposed to be. At least on screen.

So when we went to Lowes the other day and were standing on the check out line? You know he had to grab this:

 

 

“Manly meals”.

I’m sure you can hear my eyes rolling from there.

 

 

Who knew my husband wanted to be a cookout legend?

The man who has never read a recipe in his life, but had to buy this book. And may I just say?

I was not impressed.

 

 

 

That is the saddest excuse for steak I’ve ever seen. And with pesto made from cilantro as an accompaniment? The Duke and his horse should be run out of town with their heads hanging down in shame.

 

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Now correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Texas do everything up big?

If so, these are misnamed…. because those are the skimpiest, most pathetic tacos to ever grace a shell.

And I’m from Maine.

We fill our tacos with haddock and lobster… what do we know?

I’ll spare you the Gun Smokey Barbecue Chicken and the Ringo Kid’s Skirt Steak, but suffice it to say I doubt any of Wayne’s dishes will ever make it to our table.

And now, because this is my blog and you know I can’t help myself…. here’s one final picture of the quintessential manly man.

You can thank me later.

 

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Just what we needed.

 

Into an already packed to capacity barn….

 

 

Came this:

 

 

A pool table that our  soon to be ex  friends couldn’t wait to get rid of.

 

 

Have you ever tried to lift a pool table?

 

 

If not, I don’t recommend it.

F*cker be heavy.

 

 

Our friends were so eager to see the back side of this thing they also gave us 2 little wheeled platforms to assist in it’s departure.

 

 

Which were great, until the table had to be picked up off of them.

 

 

So there it sits.

Now….and for the foreseeable future. ( Which should be read as forever, or until I can find some other unsuspecting friend to pass it off on )

It will sit there, a constant reminder of the fact that my husband can not pass up anything that is free.

Ever.

No matter how big and how useless.

But look….

 

 

It also came with a free stand, free cue sticks, ( Miller Lite? That abomination has got to go! ) free bags of balls and numerous free tacky game room signs.

 

 

What’s not love?

 

Pandemic humor…

 

Because laughter is literally the only medicine.

 

 

I haven’t walked into a bar in 142 days.

Let that sink in…. and tell me pigs aren’t flying somewhere.

 

 

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Correct signage has never been more important.

 

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I’m beginning to notice a trend.

 

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He’s right.

We probably are.

 

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Finally, a way to make men wear masks!

Thank you Katie.

And if all that was too depressing, let me leave you with this…..

 

 

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You’re welcome.