  |
|
|
 
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
|
|
|
|
|
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
|
|
Friday night:
The sky was noticeably blue today. According to the forecasters the display of vivid color today isn't gonna last. Curse them for vocalizing such a thing. After today, it may be over a week until we can expect to see another cloud free day. The bastards. I hate that. This is exactly the time of year that I long to see days such as these. I need that fix.
And speaking of fix, I now know more about the weather than ever before. How? Why? Because M has developed a terrible addiction to weather.com. She has to have it. On the net or via the cable TV feed... she has to know. I now have weather on demand. All you have to do is ask M. Unlike Arizona, the weather here changes often. Although I was aware of it, I'm sure that M could now prove with hard facts that the weather forecasters are often wrong. With charts and graphs even. Weather watchers anonymous anyone?
The anticipation of spring is in the air. Local birds are calling for it. Vacationing birds are coming back. Some trees are beginning to bud. Area squirrels are relatively thin and willing to come nearer for food. Seed catalogs are arriving every few days. Target has summer clothes out. Yes. Sure signs that Spring is on the way. Even if it is dragging its seasonal ass like a bucket of lead. Nevertheless, it couldn't get here fast enough for me. I'm antsy. Except for the muddy parts. I welcome the renewal spring ushers in. To see things springing forth again. The life evident in flourish. The lush growth of summer. The backdrop of greens and blues. The spattered color of flowers against it. The cycle of life going around and coming around.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I've taken it all in before it has shown up. Such a delicious thought.
Yes. Then I snap back to reality.
The blue sky today misrepresents the truth of the matter.
What's that?
It's the fact that it is still freezing out. That's hard to ignore.
.
.
.
Equally tough to ignore is the fact that I go through this same shit every year.
.
.
.
.
Looks like this is the weekend that the Arbor comes down.
Since the ground is frozen, we have two options. One is to remove the 4 overhead 2 x 12's connecting the sides of it and either chainsaw the structure's posts at the ground and move it for re-use later. The other is to completely hack the shit out of it with the chainsaw so it can be easily hauled away. I'm hoping for the first option. And, we'll probably accomplish that if my brother can make it over with a bigger chainsaw. We need help dragging the sides off behind the barn.
When my Dad died we divvied up some tools and I could have taken a big chainsaw. The only reason why I didn't haul it home was because I couldn't easily get it started. Plus, it was just too fucking big. I didn't need anything that heavy and scary looking. Especially something that might disjoint my shoulder socket getting it started. But, on occasion.... you might want a tool like this. It was fine that Mom and Dave kept it. Anytime I wanted to use it there it would be. In over six years I haven't used it once. This is why it may be cost effective to rent those tools you'll infrequently use.
Why the rush? Well, Dave the builder was back out to the house on Wednesday. At last, we agreed on a price. He'll be bringing the contract out early in the week and then he'll be taking the plan down to the township office to apply for the building permit. If everything goes off without a hitch < ....how often does that happen? > according to Dave groundbreaking could be within the week.
LOL! I am giddy over the prospect of building commencing.
Ya. The Arbor is gone from view. The sides have been dragged behind the barn to use as a potential screen later. In my head, it is up in linear fashion. Vines are growing on it.
Destructo-constructo....
The chainsaw hates me and I hate it.
It rarely cooperates in starting. It forces me to take it apart and fill the the carb with starting fluid or carb cleaner. Then, it'll fire right up. Usually.
On occasion though, it gives my starting arm a workout and a half. There was a day not long ago when it made me feel as if my shoulder socket was on fire. I gave up after pulling maybe 70 times. My arm throbbed like a cartoon. At least it felt that way.
The chainsaw is defective or waiting to die in the middle of a project. I feel it. It must be true. The chain sometimes slips. The sprocket slips into a coma. So, you rev and wait for it to kick back in. Yet, you feel like it's gonna croak any second now. It might. It probably will. But not now. Please not now.
For being fairly early on a Saturday, the chainsaw was remarkably pleasant. Mandatory since my brother was sick and there would be no big kahuna chainsaw here to put this one to shame. It started after spraying carb cleaner directly into the carburetor.
Crouching with a chainsaw isn't to most comfortable thing to do. Hopping around like a monkey with a loudly buzzing chainsaw looks funny as well. Hitting nails with a chainsaw isn't a good idea. I had no choice. Luckily, the chain didn't snap and crack me in the head. But, enough sparks were flying to give the illusion I was welding it.
Even after cutting it down. It stood there. Stood there after jumping off its moorings. Defiant. I knew it. Fucking monolith.
The 4 overhead 2 x 12's would not come down. Not even after taking the nuts off all of the lag bolts. I tried slamming them back out with a cold chisel and a small sledgehammer and nothing. They wouldn't budge. That's why we had to approach it in its entirety.
After cutting the posts at the base, we fastened a couple of tie downs on one set of 2x12's. I pulled. Pulled while M and Michael and Kyle yanked up the back legs of the structure. They yanked, and I pulled in unison while they jacked the rear legs up with small logs. Finally, we had the mechanics just right. A few more synchronized pulls and it came cracking over on its side. Hit the ground hard enough to make it jump again after it touched down. If the ground hadn't been frozen, we may have gasped for air in a dirt cloud.
Despite escaping a mouthful of grit and feeling thankful for the season, I spent a good deal of yesterday feeling strange over hacking the Arbor down. Gnawing it off with a chainsaw. Not even delicate surgical grade work. Hacked and slashed down a special place. With a fucking bright green chainsaw.
Yikes.
Like no respect. Blatant disregard....like snarling, "GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"
And it did. It's now severed from its place.
It had to be done. I know that. I knew it was coming. We've been planning this. But, if you recall, I had similar feelings when the tree was cut down last fall. I have to allow myself time to mourn the passing of what was. I have to do that in order to fully embrace what will be. Give me a day or two.
.
.
.
.
Bad thing is, I won't be seeing
this again.
The view from the hammock under the Arbor.
.
.
.
.
.
..
Good thing is, we are creating additional living space. Looking toward the future.
Yes.... the future.
M is still doing fine with her asthma and the diet. That makes all the difference in the world.
SNOW DAY!!!!
We got a snowstorm last night and we all stayed home today.
M and the kids have been wanting a snow day. They finally got it. Of course, I could have easily made my way into work with the Jeep.... but, I opted to stay here with them. Although I did not lose out on the opportunity to do a some 4-wheeling. I took Tasha and went down to the store to get bread. Except that I forgot to buy the bread while I was there. LOL. I swear, this was not intentional. M might beg to differ. But, it's true!
My Sista: talked to her on the phone this morning
My Sis has a part time job in the landlord's office of a housing rental place. Secretarial assignments. The boss is basically king of the slum lords in town. The office is located in the back of a in a tall historic brick building. The 1st floor office is abutting up against a sandwich shop and a salon where you can get your nails done. All situated next to a large parking lot created when a half block of rental building burned to the ground.
The son of the owner and my Sis used to date. He had subsequently married and has a child, yet he chases every woman he can. Sista's boyfriend hasn't a clue. Despite his vow of commitment, he's now dating the other girl who works there two days of the week. She a tenant. He's now pissed off because she is seeing other people. Livid even.
Every now and then the Dad owner stops in to vent. He's predominately crabby assed. It's apparent that his money hasn't bought him taste in clothing or happiness. Fortunately, he comes in, grumbles and generally leaves. That's a good thing. Why? Because not only is he enormously unpleasant but, his breath is foul and he brazenly scratches himself and stares at your tits. If you have them.
Throughout the day, many people pass through the door. Mostly friends of the son. Like the local cop who is married to the local Newswoman. Chris the big tough guy. She proudly showing off her pregnancies and babies while he carouses continually. After they exchange pleasantries and good ol' boy banter and he leaves, the son tells my sister that Chris won't sleep with his wife anymore because her ass is too wide after having those kids. And, would she like to go out drinking with them this weekend?
What do you think? Hell no.
LOL! The peyton place of slumlord land.
The drama of it all. And, that ain't the half of it.
.
.
.
.
.
It only furthers my appreciation of my own life.
At last, we have signed papers at the lawyers office to protect ourselves and the kids. Power of Attorney, Wills, joint ownership of the house, Legal Guardianship to protect the boys and Medical form so I can take the kids to a doctor if necessary. Hopefully, we've covered all of our bases. Finally.
The lawyer we saw to draw up the papers is nice enough. But, her office looks like a cyclone hit it. Not just once. A dozen times or more. She's a mess.
The law office is on the first floor of her residence. The place is in a run down part of town. But, you can tell that at one time it was an elegant residence. Not anymore. At least, not what we could see.
The long haired white cat has free reign of the place. He da man. There is a coating of cat hair on everything there. When the sun was shining just so through the dirty window pane, I could see hair and dust floating and swirling as the secretary walked by. Lovely.
Just as we were gathered around the copier signing documents and making copies, M began to have an asthma attack. She is highly allergic to cats. At least that's what she had told me. This was the first time I witnessed it. Ugh. Poor M. The wheezing came back in a flash.
When we left the place, I could see cat hair clinging to us all. Damn. Fucking cat hair anyway. I imagine dander and spittle clinging to it like bloodsuckers. A protein found in cat dander and saliva is the true culprit. It's not the hair. And, data suggests that 40%+ of all asthmatics are triggered by cats. Coupled with the fact that the cat was male and male cats produce more allergens.
Finally we are out of there, papers in hand.
The tightness in my chest returned as I sped through the
city. That feeling of near panic due to M's labored breathing.
I hate that. I hate that she has this.
I want to take it from her and throw it out the window.
I want to breathe for her. I want to loosen the
constraints. Instead I feel taut as I push on toward home. Noting
every minor infraction drivers make around me. The
dumb fuckers. Are you OK M? Where
in hell did they learn to drive? Exasperated
by the time I pull in the driveway.
She's been doing so damn good on the allergy and asthma diet. Breathing without wheezing and maxing on the scale of the blow tube at about 450. Excellent. But, an allergic reaction to cats is different. It triggers you from outside. It has nothing to do with what you are fueling your body with.
After a shower and a change of clothes, M is doing fine. She didn't even have to take a breathing treatment. It takes a while for me to feel relieved again.
Put together that picture with this one. When we get back home and M walks into the front room, I hear an audible inhale that tells me something is awry. My step quickens and I breeze into the room only to see that Tasha had taken it upon herself to tear open a pillow on the couch and pull stuffing bits out all over the floor.
That freakin' bitch. I am in NO mood to see this.
I get the leash. She sees it and slinks as low as she can while still trying to walk away.
Get your ass over here Tasha! I follow and slip the noose around her neck. I march her off into the Outback for a few hours of solitary confinement. Her tail is tucked the whole way while I stomp through the snow. My steps showed my aggravation.
We weren't gone that long. An hour and half tops. There was no reason for her to throw a damn dog fit. Generally she will tear up a newspaper or something, never this. And, she couldn't have picked a worse day and time to have done it.
ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH.
After giving Tasha another dose of solitary Outback confinement while we worked yesterday, she was on her best behavior today.
There is an excavator
parked in the back yard.
To use a tech term, a big ol' dirt digging thingy < LOL@Jen
>.
I thought the big guy in the Carhartts would be back to dig today so I worked from home half of the day. He never showed even though I made extra coffee < that generally does it you know >. I wasn't pissed because he never said that he was gonna show today. But, I thought he might. Of course, this is the first time I have been wrong about anything in a damn long while. ;^)
Looks like Tasha will be in the Outback tomorrow as well. Why? Because I can't imagine her not flipping out once the dude shows up to dig the crater for the addition. The ground is frozen so, I would venture to bet that the bucket will hit the earth with one hell of a bang. It's bound to rattle the windows maybe even at the neighbors. I know when M and I were trying to dig around the arbor supports so they could be cut closer to the ground, that we were using a heavy iron ice spud on the ground and each slam would release a chunk of dirt the size of an oreo. It was a pain. Much work for such little progress. Until M discovered vessels of boiling water.
Damn. I really wanted to be here when they began digging. That way the trauma I would feel would develop at an understandable pace. I didn't want to just come home and see a giant dirt pile and say something profound like....
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THAT FUCKING DIRT PILE WOULD YA?
.
.
.
.
Hell, if I witnessed it.... there may not be any trauma at all. Looks like that
is out of the question though. Instead I'll just whimper and whine about it.
Business as usual.
Other stuff
Looks like the Jeep is gonna go bye-bye. We're
looking into a more practical ride. A double cab 4x4, 4 door Toyota Tacoma.
I filled out the forms at carsdirect.com today and imagine that I will be hearing
something soon.
There is not room in the Jeep for a damn thing once you're in it, and.... it isn't the safest vehicle for toting around a couple of kids. Looks like M's level head will prevail on that. Plus.... I can't argue the fact that having a pickup wouldn't be a bad idea during the building phase either. Even though we could get a trailer for the Jeep, that wouldn't solve the safety issue or the practicality issue. And we don't need another thing taking up room around here. Most of the time a trailer would be parked. Scratch that.
There is a possibility that interest rates could be cut 1/4 percent on the 18th by the Feds. Today I talked to a loan officer at the Credit Union today about refinancing the current mortgage and getting more money to cover the cost of the truck. She said she's send the application papers out in today's mail.
Interest rates are low and I don't expect they'll get any lower. More than likely once they begin to head up they'll continue upward. Now is the time. In fact, M and I have talked about taking some additional money to use toward the addition. Like maybe, to get the heating and cooling system installed. We are currently undecided, but..... it's a thought because if they Feds drop rates another 1/4 percent - rates will be as low as they were in 1958! It's something to think about. Even though we don't HAVE to do it. The mortgage on the house is at 7.125% and right now you can get a fixed one at 5.5%. We are going to do that anyway.
Dinnertime
We sit down at the table with the kids to eat when M begins
telling me a story. Some woman
at work, another teacher, was bitching about one of M's students getting transferred
into another class. Now, granted.... this is a kid that literally disrupts
the class by screaming all damn day long.... so he's a pain. And, it makes it
difficult to teach the other students because of his disruptions. This woman
is bitchy and yammering on and on the same points.....the real problem being
that he should not be moved mainly because she will end up with him in her class.
She won't shut up either. So.... she's going on and on
about how this kid will destroy any class he is in. Of
course, M is so nice that she listened to her and said,
"I'm sorry but the decision was not up to me." And, she agreed that
he is difficult but reinterated that the decision to move him was not made by
her. And.... this dumb bitch keeps going on and on
about it while M was polite and listened.
Just listening to what she was telling me was irritating.
I tell M, "you know, you really need to carry around a big stick."
She looks at me a little funny and I say:
YEAH.... a stick.
.
.
.
A stick so you can shove it up her ass and make her a dumbsicle.
.
.
.
Kyle was laughing and said.... oh! You said a bad word!
At that point I realized I had said the word ASS in front of them and my face turned crimson concurrently.
But.... I couldn't help but laugh. Besides... they already knew that swear word.
.
.
.
.
.
That phrase may come back to haunt me.
I can imagine a note from the bus driver or
teacher saying that Kyle said what I said.
Or.... at the parent/teacher conference.
.
.
.
.
I might have to act livid and say:
.
.
.
is THIS the kind of stuff he learns in
school?
< I'd better practice facial expressions >
When Kyle and Michael entered the house after being dropped off by the school bus yesterday, the first thing out of Kyle's mouth was, "Michael has a girlfriend." LOL.
While Kyle liked the girls, Michael verbally stated not long ago that he was, "too young to have a girlfriend." And that, "I'm gonna wait until I'm older for THAT." At 8, I would certainly think so.
A few weeks ago M had told me at dinner that Michael was slipping in his grade as far as comprehension goes. Hmmmmmm. He's distracted was my immediate thought. I said to him, "Michael.... I think that you must be watching the girls and that's why you are so distracted that you can't focus on your work." The look on his face was priceless. As he looked up from his plate, his fork dropped and his face literally lit up. He shone. I knew it was true having NEVER seen that look on his face before. LOL. "It's OK if you are you know.... but, you still have to do your work." I swear though, he continued to beam. That confirmed it for me.
Yesterday when Kyle came in and announced that "Michael has a girlfriend," he had the same look.
Busted pal.
My fingers still feel the phantom chainsaw as the tips hit the keyboard. The old apple tree that fell is finally being dismembered. It will be replaced by a hill of dirt once the digging commences.
The excavator is still sitting in the same place. The snow is gone after several mild days that seemingly evacuated every living person from the confines of their respective dwellings. People are smiling again. Winter appears to have went elsewhere. Where? Nobody cares. Unless it comes back. Then they would care.
The boys are disappointed that we can't see the ample gaping hollow in the ground. Kyle said, "they must be lazy workers." Michael looked sad and couldn't understand why they haven't been back. "Maybe they forgot about us," he declared. No.... they didn't. Most likely they are working somewhere else. This isn't the only piece of equipment they have. The boys agreed, "....you should call them." Even after I explained that the excavator was a subcontractor, and.... the importance of patience.
Yesterday I thought without saying, "....maybe they will be here on Monday." Now that it is early afternoon, I'm thinking not. So, I did call the builder and left him a message. "Hi Dave.... it's me.... wondering what is going on with the project here. Haven't seen a soul or heard from you. Let me know what's up. The excavator has been sitting here for a week now."
Tonight he'll call back. We shall see.
I'm not too worried about it at this point. Of course, I would have preferred that things got going immediately, but.... once the ball gets rolling it'll all come together. Besides, this week they are calling for rain. That could mess up the excavation. Provided we actually get rain. In fact, if this spring is a rainy one, the project could be delayed. You can't pour concrete into a hole filled with water. Time will tell.
I spent a good part of the weekend in the garage beating on the lawn tractor rim with a mallet. Trying to disengage it from a rusty axle. Why? Because we have new tires to put on it all around. You can't seat the bead of the new tire to hold air while it is on the tractor. Plus, it's time to do some spring maintenance on it. All of the tires came off. The front ones are back on with the new tires. The disobedient right rear tire is the problem. While it is damn tempting to buy a new rider, the will be no rest until this one is back on the lawn.
.
.
.
.
Same day.... later....
The excavator began work today! Here's a peek at the beginning of the mess:
the boys are enchanted
If you've read this months journal entries, you already know that M and I have been talking about getting rid of the Jeep and getting a truck.
First, we applied for a new Toyota crew cab 4x4 from carsdirect.com. When a rep from carsdirect called last week, basically it boiled down to the fact that we couldn't get the vehicle we wanted at the advertised price on carsdirect. Why? Because, according to him.... it was a Toyota < say that with a certain snobbery in your voice >.... and Toyotas come with extra things on it from the factory. Why? Just fucking because. It was alluded to that Toyota doesn't have to give you what you want because they can easily sell their vehicles.
Extra stuff not only jacks up the price but , it's a bunch of aftermarket stuff that we could get cheaper elsewhere should we want it < which we didn't >. The truck we had originally specified topped out at just over 24,000. According to the carsdirect rep, we can actually get one configured a little differently for nearly 28,000. Well then....screw that.
Damn. Last Sunday we drove through some car lots and looked at some BIG ass American trucks. The big 3. Chevy, Ford and Dodge. In the used car area, most of them that sort of met our visual approval had very high mileage. And they were asking about 20,000 and up for them anyway. No way are we buying something that expensive that gets 12 miles on a gallon of gas and has 70,000 miles on it. So.... we were back to square one again. Crap.
I have spent hours researching the possibilities for a new truck. Because we have 2 kids, we really wanted a 4 door truck. Yeah, you sacrifice some room in the truck bed, but.... we figure we can get a bed extender.
.
.
.
.
Last night as M and I sat at our computers, like manna from heaven, we found the truck.
A 2001 Nissan Frontier. LOADED and just under 20,000 miles on it.
.
.
.
.
The couple who have it can't afford it. Bummer for them yet good for us.
This Saturday we are giving them some $$ to hold it.
.
.
.
Unfortunately, a few days ago the wife had the truck out when someone rear ended her at a stop. Now the rear bumper and tailgate need to be replaced and their insurance is going to cover the damage. No big deal. That doesn't change my mind.... it wasn't like a t-bone or a head-on crash.
Shit happens.
With astonishing regularity.
Yesterday at 9:30 a.m. the excavators arrive.
OHMAHGAWD!
.
.
.
.
.
the forms for the footings are almost ready for the cement truck to arrive
.
.
.
.
....the footings have been poured and the crew is gone!
.
.
.
.
Ever get the feeling that everything is happening at once?
Headline: Day
Care caper revealed over Dinner
Having dinner together nightly with two 8 year old boys definitely has it's advantages. We often have interesting conversations. Tonight was no different.
Over lunch at Day Care a girl named Bree spied Michael's lunch. She asked Michael if she could give him 2 nickels for 2 pickles. Michael misunderstood her and he said loudly, "two nickels for two dickles?"
A group of older kids there overheard him and
said.... "oooooooo.... you are sooooooo
gross."
Michael said he felt stupid and sunk down in his chair to illustrate his point.
He didn't get it.
I wanted to bust out laughing. Instead, I said.... I know why they were laughing Michael. "What are dickles?" he asked. Well.... there is no such name. I'm laughing a little by now. Michael looks puzzled. There's no such word as dickles. But.... hmmmmmm..... M, why don't you tell him? "Tell him what," asked Kyle. Explain why they were laughing M. :: still giggling :: Go ahead. A wide eyed look at me complete with a modest micro nod and it was clear that M's face said that she wasn't going to tell him anything. Clearly, that was up to me. M shrunk in her seat.
Kyle exuberantly announced with a smile while looking directly at me, "I'm gonna tell Grandma that you teach us all of the bad words.... and, we really appreciate it." Everyone laughed.
HA! I have NOT told you all of the bad words. Of course, I did explain what a few words meant so you would know.... and here I am getting all of the credit for teaching you the words. Thanks. :: more grinning and laughing ::
OK. It's like this. They were laughing at you because it's a slang word. They are watching me intently as I continue to speak. "What's a slang word?," Kyle asks, tipping his head to the side. Well.... a slang word is a word used for something specific. Sometimes it's a word that isn't nice.
Like ummmmm...... ok..... like penis. A slang word that you already know for penis is wiener. The kids look at each other and giggle. Then I quickly say.... another slang word for penis is dick. Silence. Kyle grins and looks at Michael. Michael slinks down in his chair. He TOTALLY understands now why the older boys said he was gross. He had a look that said, "OHMYGAWD!" Now he gets it.
We all bust out laughing. So, Michael.... don't sell your dickles.
Then I go on to explain that "dick" is also a name. A guy named Richard might be called Dick, or Rick. They understood but I could tell they were both glad that wasn't either of their names, because someone stupid might be called a dick, too.
Of course, now I get credit for teaching them another "bad" word. Only because M is too polite and too shy to fully explain it. Truly, I have only offered the explanations when the words have come up.
Now I can hardly wait until they see my Mom and tell her the good news. I'm banking on the fact they may forget.
Slim chance.
.
. . . . . . . . . . .
.
. . . . . . . . . . . 
