Tag Archives: men

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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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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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.

And we’re back.

 

Baby barn work commences…. again.

And I have to ask – are we the only ones who take a year to remodel what is in essence a small shed?

On second thought, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.

 

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So we’ve moved around to the back half to finish our utterly favorite part…..and by that I mean the hellish nightmare that is angled trim work. I believe we’ve established we suck at this and not wanting to break tradition, we still do.

 

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How badly do we suck?

I’m glad you asked.

 

 

Badly enough to require shaving corners with less than modern tools if you’re my other half.

 

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What….

You mean 1940’s saws aren’t still viable members of the tool arsenal?

 

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Yes, that’s always my reaction as well….

But the husband says it still has life left in it.

 

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Corners were turned…

 

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Though not all of them where they should be…

As the poppa barn ( who’s still screaming for paint and agrees with River how wonderful he would look in a nice rusty red with white trim ) looked on in horror.

 

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To be continued.

 

 

So… this happened.

 

 

The husband mowing the grass over the septic tank?

Not blog worthy.

But the husband mowing the grass over the septic tank with one arm because he’s done some kind of damage to his left shoulder and the appendage is hanging uselessly?

 

 

Relatively blog worthy.

It took me a week of him alternating ice packs and heating pads. A week of him moaning, groaning and being perfectly miserable before I could get him to the doctors for an exam and an X-ray.

Thankfully nothing was broken or dislocated. They said it might be muscle trauma, might be a pinched nerve. In other words they have no idea.

A weeks worth of Prednisone has helped a bit, but just when we were making baby barn headway….

 

 

It seems we’ll be looking at this a while longer.

I’m seriously beginning to think that building is cursed.

Little known facts.

 

And once you read them you’ll realize how little you care…..

 

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I’m sure you could have gone all day with out hearing that, but since I hate nuts anyway? It strengthens my resolve that peanut butter is disgusting.

 

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Yeah.

Enjoy that sandwich now.

I dare you.

 

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I had to do a little research on this one because I grew up adoring Ted.

Sadly, he’s wasn’t always the sweet cuddly children’s author we imagined.

But I still love the Lorax, sorry Helen.

 

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Asbestos snow…

What could go wrong?

 

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True.

And quite bizarre…

 

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Well, we could all use a little more protein in our diets.

 

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People are allergic to cochineal insects?

How would they know? I didn’t even realize there was such a thing.

 

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Okay, I agree…. that really would have sucked.

And finally, because men aren’t filled with enough penile insecurities as it is.

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Sorry guys.

Penis envy is a horrible thing.

P.S. ….. When I woke up and checked WP on my phone this morning? My reader preview made me do a double take.

Damn.

The porn spammers will be back any day now.

As long as they keep making them…..

 

Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring seems to be a favorite in the re-created art catalog.

For which I’m glad.

 

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Though this next one does differ quite substantially from the original….

 

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You have to applaud the commitment.

 

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There.

Proof positive your mother was wrong when she said you’d never find a place to wear head to toe green.

 

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Man with vacuum cleaner.

You know women will swoon over this.

 

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Oh. My….

The less said about this the better!

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.

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.