I think everyone had a kind of crappy last couple days with today bringing the funk to a head. I know there's been a full moon, and I even think it was a reddish color the other night. It's screwing us all up. Or something.
Well, I didn't sleep worth a damn last night. Couple hours on, couple hours off. Blow. Also, if I misspell or completely use the wrong word here, forgive me. I'm out of my mind. Truly. Goes to show that you shouldn't go to bed angry, even if it's about your grass. Yeah, sounds stupid; I know. It was more the principle of not getting help or the "help" making cutting my damn grass way more complicated than it should be. That's over now, though, because I have taken matters into my own hands.
First, I decided to just take the bag off and mow the front yard today. That made things much better, but it still sucks a bit on my back. The allergy mask isn't fun either. But, it's a good thing I was out there because I saw a little lawn crew drive past on the way to a neighbor's house. I literally pushed the mower to a stop, took my mask off, and walked out into the road, flagging them down. Pretty sure I scared them. I told them my situation and that I needed help. They offered to pull over and give me an estimate. I was so happy to get help that when they were parking, I had to quickly turn around because I started to tear up. It was just nice that someone I didn't know (who was actually busy on their way to a job) was willing to stop and help me out for a minute. Their estimate was very reasonable, and I'll be calling tomorrow to set things up. The guy even said I'd been doing a good job despite everything - very nice to hear. Plus, I could see them working on the lawn down the street, and they did a really nice job.
With just that one thing working out, everything seems a ton better. Tomorrow is a work out day, grocery day, and cleaning day. Of course, to vacuum, I need to get out the duct tape because the other day Dex (who is afraid of the vacuum) got his foot stuck in the cord, broke into a sprint out of fear, and literally shot the vacuum ten feet across the living room. That is, after it ricocheted off my left leg, which is healing now. Yes, everything is going really well. :-)
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
My Effffffing Lawn
So, I give up. Apparently trying to get my lawn mowed is like figuring out the national budget. Except it's not really that hard. At all. I'm pregnant, and it's a self-propelled lawn mower. It pretty much does the work itself. I could do it. The only problem I have is emptying the clippings bag. My back hurts because of sciatica (I'm working on that), and it causes me to strain the rest of my body when it's acting up and I have to lift something. And well that's not good.
Further, my husband is in an all.male.fucking.unit. Some are gone but some are home. And to date, I can't get my grass cut. I don't get this. Joe can't think of who else to ask, as his one good friend totally flaked out on me when he broke his phone over a drunken weekend. Then randomly texted me the next week after I'd already mowed asking if he could come over the next day and do it. Also, I asked a 12 or 13 year old neighbor boy if he wanted to help me and that I'd pay him. His stepdad told me it was his first time mowing (the day I saw him in his yard and asked for his help) and basically brushed me off from there. Maybe he didn't hear the part about my husband being gone or that I'm pregnant, and maybe what I should have told them both is that I started mowing when I was 12. And it was a push mower, a real one. And that I was a heck of a lot smaller than that boy. What a weenie.
Finally, some good fortune fell in my lap, and I got two offers of help. My neighbor said that her daughter (who is 12 and taller than I am now) wanted to help me with the yard and that she needed the volunteer hours for jr. national honor society. Right on, bring it on. However, when I tried to talk to her about when she'd be able to do it, it was very hard to get her to nail down a time. I mean, she's a 12 year old girl. Also, she has school during the week, and on the weekends, they go to the lake, so I don't think that's going to work out.
Then, this other guy from Joe's unit was ready to come over last week, though it was too soon to mow. He said to just let him know when I needed him, so I text him today saying that if he's still down to mow, the grass is ready whenever his schedule allows. He responds saying tomorrow after work will be fine. Then, a little bit ago, I get a text from his wife who says SHE will mow tomorrow because her husband is going to be busy after all. Then, she sends a final text saying just this "It's supposed to rain tomorrow." DAMN IT ALL. I never said it had to be tomorrow. Don't do it then if it's a problem or if it's going to rain. What is so hard about "when your schedule allows"?????? And why couldn't he text me back? Other wives text and call Joe for help when their husbands are gone. I'm not trying to steal her husband. I just want my fucking yard mowed. And I don't ever, ever ask for help until now. Hey, Mrs. Obama and Mrs. Biden, can your new initiative send me someone to mow my damn grass?!?!
But ya know what, I don't care anymore. I'm either going to hire some big name company and get ripped the hell off, or call some random person advertising on craigslist and probably be murdered. No thanks. OR, I take the bag off and just let clippings fall where they may, which is probably fine. It won't be as neat and clean, but what can ya do. The last option is to just let it grow and tell Joe I'm real sorry when he gets home and has to do it. I hate the last option; it's just crappy for Joe. I opt to mow without the bag. Middle finger, middle finger, middle finger.
Further, my husband is in an all.male.fucking.unit. Some are gone but some are home. And to date, I can't get my grass cut. I don't get this. Joe can't think of who else to ask, as his one good friend totally flaked out on me when he broke his phone over a drunken weekend. Then randomly texted me the next week after I'd already mowed asking if he could come over the next day and do it. Also, I asked a 12 or 13 year old neighbor boy if he wanted to help me and that I'd pay him. His stepdad told me it was his first time mowing (the day I saw him in his yard and asked for his help) and basically brushed me off from there. Maybe he didn't hear the part about my husband being gone or that I'm pregnant, and maybe what I should have told them both is that I started mowing when I was 12. And it was a push mower, a real one. And that I was a heck of a lot smaller than that boy. What a weenie.
Finally, some good fortune fell in my lap, and I got two offers of help. My neighbor said that her daughter (who is 12 and taller than I am now) wanted to help me with the yard and that she needed the volunteer hours for jr. national honor society. Right on, bring it on. However, when I tried to talk to her about when she'd be able to do it, it was very hard to get her to nail down a time. I mean, she's a 12 year old girl. Also, she has school during the week, and on the weekends, they go to the lake, so I don't think that's going to work out.
Then, this other guy from Joe's unit was ready to come over last week, though it was too soon to mow. He said to just let him know when I needed him, so I text him today saying that if he's still down to mow, the grass is ready whenever his schedule allows. He responds saying tomorrow after work will be fine. Then, a little bit ago, I get a text from his wife who says SHE will mow tomorrow because her husband is going to be busy after all. Then, she sends a final text saying just this "It's supposed to rain tomorrow." DAMN IT ALL. I never said it had to be tomorrow. Don't do it then if it's a problem or if it's going to rain. What is so hard about "when your schedule allows"?????? And why couldn't he text me back? Other wives text and call Joe for help when their husbands are gone. I'm not trying to steal her husband. I just want my fucking yard mowed. And I don't ever, ever ask for help until now. Hey, Mrs. Obama and Mrs. Biden, can your new initiative send me someone to mow my damn grass?!?!
But ya know what, I don't care anymore. I'm either going to hire some big name company and get ripped the hell off, or call some random person advertising on craigslist and probably be murdered. No thanks. OR, I take the bag off and just let clippings fall where they may, which is probably fine. It won't be as neat and clean, but what can ya do. The last option is to just let it grow and tell Joe I'm real sorry when he gets home and has to do it. I hate the last option; it's just crappy for Joe. I opt to mow without the bag. Middle finger, middle finger, middle finger.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Save the Drama for Ya Mama
Annnd, I just had to check the house for boogey men because out of no where both dogs ran into the living room and started barking. Nothing there, and the alarm is set. With storms rolling through, I think they just hear the wind. Still, it'd be nice to have a husband home at times like these. I rotate from being overly cautious - approach where dogs are barking with loaded gun in hand, or if it's the middle of the night - lay in bed until the barking stops...because if it stops, it was nothing, right? Meh.
This week has been a little more dramatic than my normal stay-at-home-Katie week. According to the realty agency that manages our (rental) house, some neighbor friend that still lives here called the homeowners in Arizona and ratted me out on my having two dogs. BUT, they also told them that I have a damn rottweiler, and that he got into a fight with the neighbor's dog. What's that? Pick on the preg lady with the deployed husband?! Alrighty! It has all ended well - though the lease states I can only have one dog, the homeowners are cool with two as long as I made it legit - paperwork and another $250 pet fee. I completed it all. I would have done it from the start, but I waited until after we got Lu to review the pet policy on only having one pet. Didn't know there was wiggle room.
Also, I had to provide paperwork on Dex showing he's not a rottweiler. I also gave pictures that clearly show he is not. And I had to explain that when he got into a fight with the neighbor's dog (who is always a little iffy), we'd been invited over for a play date. (It's not like he busted out and went on the attack. My dogs NEVER get loose.) Of course the last time our males were around each other, theirs kicked Dex's ass. I guess the bad blood resurfaced, as it happened again recently at the aforementioned play date. But alas, their dog had no scratches, and mine did. Again. Still, those neighbors are my friends and not the ones that said anything to the homeowners. Hell, she brings my dogs treats all the time. She loves them! So I can't figure out which neighbor is the rat. Thinking back...amidst the dog fight, one neighborhood girl (like 13 years old) ran over after hearing the commotion, so I don't know if she told her mom who told somebody else, etc. Old school Southern gossip mill at its finest. The thing is, though - I win. Both dogs stay!! But I'mma find the neighbor. Oh yes I will.
The other big thing this week is that I've been consistent in my workouts. I found a series of prego workouts on youtube that a seemingly legit chiropractor put together when she was pregnant. I discussed them with a trainer friend of mine, and she said they sound good. So, what I do is watch the videos at home and then go to my gym and do them. They're little circuits that I repeat 3 times. Not bad. I think I'm also going to start doing some yoga at home on the off days. Whatever I can do to get my body ready for battle. Also, I of course want to feel as good as possible, which isn't always easy when I'm already breathing super heavy all the time it seems. Apparently the amount of blood in my body has already increased significantly...I want to say by 50%, but I don't have the figures in front of me. It's nuts.
With that, it's another week about over, and another closer to Joe being back. Which means, another closer to going to the beach (instead of France, we're going to Florida), and another closer to finding out the gender of the baby. In a future post, I'll tell you about Joe riding out the rest of his Army career doing admin work in the dungeon known as the "training room." Yep, found out today that upon return home he's being pulled off his team to spend time with what will eventually be his family of three. No more deployments or training...but will he be happy? More on that later.
This week has been a little more dramatic than my normal stay-at-home-Katie week. According to the realty agency that manages our (rental) house, some neighbor friend that still lives here called the homeowners in Arizona and ratted me out on my having two dogs. BUT, they also told them that I have a damn rottweiler, and that he got into a fight with the neighbor's dog. What's that? Pick on the preg lady with the deployed husband?! Alrighty! It has all ended well - though the lease states I can only have one dog, the homeowners are cool with two as long as I made it legit - paperwork and another $250 pet fee. I completed it all. I would have done it from the start, but I waited until after we got Lu to review the pet policy on only having one pet. Didn't know there was wiggle room.
Also, I had to provide paperwork on Dex showing he's not a rottweiler. I also gave pictures that clearly show he is not. And I had to explain that when he got into a fight with the neighbor's dog (who is always a little iffy), we'd been invited over for a play date. (It's not like he busted out and went on the attack. My dogs NEVER get loose.) Of course the last time our males were around each other, theirs kicked Dex's ass. I guess the bad blood resurfaced, as it happened again recently at the aforementioned play date. But alas, their dog had no scratches, and mine did. Again. Still, those neighbors are my friends and not the ones that said anything to the homeowners. Hell, she brings my dogs treats all the time. She loves them! So I can't figure out which neighbor is the rat. Thinking back...amidst the dog fight, one neighborhood girl (like 13 years old) ran over after hearing the commotion, so I don't know if she told her mom who told somebody else, etc. Old school Southern gossip mill at its finest. The thing is, though - I win. Both dogs stay!! But I'mma find the neighbor. Oh yes I will.
The other big thing this week is that I've been consistent in my workouts. I found a series of prego workouts on youtube that a seemingly legit chiropractor put together when she was pregnant. I discussed them with a trainer friend of mine, and she said they sound good. So, what I do is watch the videos at home and then go to my gym and do them. They're little circuits that I repeat 3 times. Not bad. I think I'm also going to start doing some yoga at home on the off days. Whatever I can do to get my body ready for battle. Also, I of course want to feel as good as possible, which isn't always easy when I'm already breathing super heavy all the time it seems. Apparently the amount of blood in my body has already increased significantly...I want to say by 50%, but I don't have the figures in front of me. It's nuts.
With that, it's another week about over, and another closer to Joe being back. Which means, another closer to going to the beach (instead of France, we're going to Florida), and another closer to finding out the gender of the baby. In a future post, I'll tell you about Joe riding out the rest of his Army career doing admin work in the dungeon known as the "training room." Yep, found out today that upon return home he's being pulled off his team to spend time with what will eventually be his family of three. No more deployments or training...but will he be happy? More on that later.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Days Go By
A couple more weeks have gone by, and I am a-ok with that. For a while there I hit a rut and was just getting through the days. I'm better now. Going to Boston the weekend before this past one was rejuvenating. I stayed with Susan and her husband Ben, and while they may have found me to be "Grumpy Old Kate" at times, I really did enjoy the trip and returned home feeling much better than when I left. I actually started sleeping better in Boston and now for the most part have been at home too. Since being back here, I've been much more productive - cleaning house, the yard, and just overall knocking out the to-do list. Good good. And of course this passage of time means I'm closer to Joe's return!
This week also marks my return to the gym. I found some legit pregnant circuit exercises on youtube and have been doing them at my gym. And, while at the gym, I've also discovered there's a slightly creepy member there now, "Crazy Johnny." He spends 20-30 minutes locked in the bathroom, and I've never actually seen him workout. The gym owners are aware of his weirdness and are keeping an eye on him. And just generally speaking, one of the owners encouraged me to bring a little gym bag with a gun in it for personal safety because as he asked "Are we ever really safe?" Gotta love Georgia.
So anyway. Life is pretty good, other than the fact that I need new, larger pants. Gonna work on that tomorrow. Until then, I'm tired after watching a blow out little league game and am gonna pass out. I least I finally got my corn dog. Yum.
This week also marks my return to the gym. I found some legit pregnant circuit exercises on youtube and have been doing them at my gym. And, while at the gym, I've also discovered there's a slightly creepy member there now, "Crazy Johnny." He spends 20-30 minutes locked in the bathroom, and I've never actually seen him workout. The gym owners are aware of his weirdness and are keeping an eye on him. And just generally speaking, one of the owners encouraged me to bring a little gym bag with a gun in it for personal safety because as he asked "Are we ever really safe?" Gotta love Georgia.
So anyway. Life is pretty good, other than the fact that I need new, larger pants. Gonna work on that tomorrow. Until then, I'm tired after watching a blow out little league game and am gonna pass out. I least I finally got my corn dog. Yum.
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