The Yard - Part 1

It's been am exciting weekend over here at Lucky Paw HQ. Well, exciting is a bit of an overstatement, as the words stressful and messy come to mind first. But! There shall be a lovely outcome to all of this, so we shall forge ahead despite frayed nerves and increased blood pressure.

This post really falls under the heading of "Why Home Ownership Is Not Always The Time." Because there are moments when, quite frankly, I miss calling a landlord and saying things like, "The toilet is acting funny! Make haste! Fix it!" and then going back to eating bon bons and doing important things...like blinking.

However, we bought this lovely little home almost three years ago now and have found that, along with exorbitant property taxes , it's mind numbingly expensive to make any improvements. Especially if you're like me and have a deep interest in home design. Which means I can be in any store and immediately zero in on the most pricey item and say, "Oh that would look AMAZING in our living room," all while Marc is feverishly calculating how much we are losing in net worth while rending his garments and wondering why he ever said hello to me in the first place. What? I had on tight jeans. He couldn't help himself.

Anyhoo, the prior owners had planted what appeared to be a flourishing backyard right before we bought the place. They were concerned about curb appeal and we appreciated the green, green lawn and the flowers that were everywhere. Honestly, the yard is what made this house so appealing. It's huge - well, by urban California standards. We had visions of outdoor parties and Kylie rolling around on the verdant, green lawn. It would be our oasis, a place for us to escape after our long days of toil and corporate misery. We purchased with glee.

Within two weeks of our moving in, everything died.

I wish I was exaggerating - one might find it hard to comprehend that I have a talent for that - but I'm not. Everything died. Marc was out there at all hours, sprinkling water and fairy dust over the lawn, shaking a rain stick at the plants, applying bandages to those that seemed broken and yelling "STAY INSIDE!" to me, since I have the black thumb between the two of us. He thought my aura might be the cause of the carnage. It was sad.

And, we found, not our fault. The previous owners had planted everything and put down sod within days of our buying the place. They had not, however, researched what they were installing in a yard that gets no sun, has hard soil and is plagued by oak root fungus. The lawn just gave up, getting about 30 seconds of sun per day, and the rest of the foliage, seeing the lawn go, decided it wasn't worth the energy to put up a fight and so followed suit. We mourned. Heavily. Our dreams of floating about the yard in gauzy dresses (Marc) and having proper cocktail hours (me) dashed.

Our budget, having been extended to buy the house in the first place, was meager. And if you've ever done a yard overhaul (which this one needed - the extent of the work that would be required became obvious as we really inspected what was going on under all of that dead greenery) you know that it requires many, MANY dollars. Something we haven't had in surplus over the past few years. (Or, when it WAS in surplus, other things came up. Like, Italy. Don't judge.)

Oh whoops...Marc forgot to move the body in that plastic bag on the deck...bugger.

Anyhoo, we've finally decided that it was time - TIME - to address the yard. Or, the Poo Patch as we've been calling it, since it's primary function has been to serve as Kylie's bathroom. Something she is going to be pissed about once it's gone. Pun intended. Ha! Sorry...it's a Monday. So on Saturday, our project manager type person, Martine, came over with his crew. We decided, through much gesticulating and grandiose hand motions and loud speaking (why is it that when someone cannot speak English that you automatically start speaking LOUDER? As though by sheer volume you will be able to penetrate the language barrier?) that they would level the yard and move the sprinklers Saturday and then pour the patio on Monday. Nice! We would be cocktailing it by Tuesday. This worked for us.

I removed all poo before taking this photo. You're welcome.

So Marc wrote a large check and immediately had a small coronary. I slapped him about for a while to revive him and then we went about our business...until there was a nervous rapping at our back door. I went out. Martine, who has a slight grasp of English had left to purchase supplies, and there stood one of his workers, who spoke NO English. He had started pickaxing away at the earth. His progress had been stunning. However, he had been so vigorous that he had hit a water pipe that was now gushing into our backyard. "AGUA! AGUA!" He yelled, pointing to the small lake that was forming next to the deck. Agua, indeed! I could see that! Thank God for Sesame Street. But what I was really thinking was, "SWEET MOSES I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO BUILD A RAFT SHOULD THINGS REALLY GO AWRY! DO WE HAVE FLOATIES FOR THE DOG???"

Outwardly, I remained calm, smiled, put up a finger to indicate, "Please wait a moment. I am going to go inside, brew a spot of tea and figure out how to solve this rather inconvenient problem." I found Marc who was busy installing speakers, plucked at his sleeve and said, "WATER! There is lots and LOTS OF WATER!" He just looked at me, swathed in wires and sweat and said "HANDLE IT."

Which, I'm happy to say, I did! But not before we had to shut off the water for our entire complex (6 other units), cap off the damned pipe and then have the city out to turn the water on AGAIN. And all while we wasted gallons and GALLONS of precious water. So when the water rationing goes up to 20% this summer and the drought problem increases, you can come and stone us. That was our fault! Sorry! But! Come over! We'll distract you with cocktails in the backyard!

Stupid pipe. And my slippers! Which are super comfy! And mannish, but whatever.

Sigh. So the project has now been delayed by a day due to our own version of Watergate. As you read this (hopefully...hopefully) the sprinklers will be being capped, the yard further leveled and the forms being put in for the patio. I didn't capture the lake via photo, as I was frantically talking to the City of Mountain View "WE ARE GOING TO DROWN IN OUR OWN BACKYARD!" and running around the complex trying to find all of the possible shut off valves. Note: do NOT buy a house that doesn't have it's own shut off. Otherwise your neighbors come out and go, "I was just taking a shower and the water suddenly stopped...do you know why?" with suds around their ears. And then you have to explain that your need for a patio is more important than their personal hygiene. And then say, "Sorry! Cocktails in the yard! Sorry! Later this week! Sorry! In the meantime, have some deodorant!"

Mud slide out to the back gate. For those of you who I went to college with - how much does this look like the Sigma Chi house during Greek Week?

Because I care

Dear Driver of the White Mercedes that I inadvertently cut off on 280N last Thursday,

Please accept my deepest apologies for having scared you shitless when I swerved into your lane the other night. I was air drumming to Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again, and there is a part in the middle that requires both hands. While I understand your surprise, was it really necessary to honk AND give me the finger? It would seem that one or the other would have conveyed your displeasure sufficiently.

Best,
Jen

P.S. Stuffed animals in your back window? Really? Super creepy.

Is it just me...

...or is it freaking ridiculous that TRAMPOLINE is considered an Olympic event?? I go from watching Michael Phelps swim his ass off to this girl going "Boing! Boing! Boing!" on an apparatus that most athletes use as training for other, more impressive sports. At least shoot some flaming arrows at her or something...you know, MAKE it perilous. Give us something we could actually get behind.

I mean, we might as well add in "Dishwasher Loading" and be done with it. Incidentally, I would totally take home the gold. I kick ass at making everything fit. Take THAT, Phelps.

Mild? No.

Why is it, that when I order a burrito, the burrito makers ALWAYS reach for the mild salsa and I have to go "NO NO NO NO...I want the HOT salsa, please!" before they defile my meal with that flavorless swill? Do they look at me and think "The blond gringa cannot handle the HEAT. Give her the salsa fresca!"

I take offense to this, as it happens without fail, each time I eat out at a burrito bar. My less fair friends get at least a pause and a raised eyebrow from the person behind the counter when it comes to salsa choice, not the automatic dive towards what amounts to some tomatoes and onions with a little cilantro thrown in. Seriously. I don't hand people from Mexico a jalapeno on sight. I expect the same respect in regards to my palate.

Heat me up, bitches.

Please, no

The one thing I despise about the beginning of summer is how every local radio station starts playing "Red, Red Wine" by the UB40's, CONSTANTLY.

That song makes my ears bleed.

And you're welcome for now having it stuck in your head all day. Join me in this sweet, sweet hell.

Do you even know who AC/DC IS?

I’ve come to realize that I’m not going to be one of those cool adults who understands teenagers and appreciates their angst and righteous indignation at how adults totally don't get it. It’s annoying. You’re not the only one who has ever been broken-hearted or had these totally amazing and DEEP thoughts. No. And while I hate to stifle your creativity and right to self-expression, you have no wrinkles and thin thighs, so go away and stop bothering me with your AC/DC tight t-shirt (that you probably think you’re wearing with irony) and skinny jeans.

All of this because some high school snot stole my parking space and then called me “Ma’am.” I need tequila.

Warning...

WARNING:

If you’re going to pull up next to me in your convertible Jaguar with the top down and your SHIRT OFF blaring “Pour Some Sugar On Me”, I’m going to say “DOUCHEBAG!” – REALLY LOUDLY - as I speed off.

Because, while I'm a child of the 80's and look back on the era with happy nostalgia, I don't need to relive its campy excellence. Especially before I've had lunch. That's just rude.

"Their" or "They're" or "There"?

Dear Grammar Nazi,

Please note that I’m well aware of my deficiencies in the art of English Grammar. I, in fact, never met a sentence I wanted to conjugate and couldn’t tell you what a dangling participle is, though I hope there’s a cream for it, as it sounds itchy and uncomfortable.

I rely heavily on spell check and my editor, a job I’d be happy to bestow upon you as far as this blog is concerned, as I’m sure if my real editor looked at it, she would keel over in shock at my liberal use of slang, lack of properly placed commas and over-use of ellipses…

But more importantly, if you have further concerns as to my daily butchering of the English language, please continue to direct your comments to Angie, as she loves delivering them to me, having little else to do at work. I appreciate your concern, and will continue to ignore your commentary by regularly writing run on sentences and using punctuation incorrectly! it’s fun! and liberating! you should try it!

Regards,
J

(Hi, Chuck! I’m looking DIRECTLY at you. Paul would never criticize me, thusly. I’m just sayin’…)

Happiness is NOT...

...having your dog barf on your foot...when you're wearing open toed sandals.

I'm so happy this week is over, I could just spit.

Things that happened before 12noon today that make me need tequila...

Hit the “off” button on my alarm rather than “snooze.” Which means my hair didn’t get done before I went to work. Sorry, clients.

Forgot to the put the mesh thingy into the french press which means that when I went to push my coffee grounds down, they FWOOSHED with great enthusiasm ALL OVER me, the counter and then floor. Neat. I then had no time to put on make up. Again, sorry, clients.

I didn’t have time to make my bed because of aforementioned alarm and coffee fiasco's. This made me grumpy.

My power steering up and died overnight in my car, meaning no amount of brute force would make the wheel TURN. Even later to work. Also, sore bicep from efforts to make the wheel go. Also, sore throat from screaming obscenities at car.

One of my clients looked up at me while on the reformer and said “Should I feel this in my vagina?” No, you should not. Or perhaps you SHOULD and show me HOW…depends on the feeling, I suppose.

Same client came in wearing WEE little bike shorts – like, I could see into her uterus. Think she confused me with a gynecological exam. Don’t need to be THAT CLOSE with ANYONE’S lady parts. Did I mention she’s well into her 60’s?

My underwear rode up my butt all morning.

I had lipstick on my teeth through one entire session and no one told me.

I finally had time to go to the bathroom near the end of my day and someone had used up the last of the toilet paper AND HAD NOT CHANGED THE ROLL.

Thank the good Lord in heaven that it’s Friday tomorrow.

Things that have annoyed me today...

1) The driver I couldn't get out from behind on my commute in to work. Not only was he inconsistent in his speed but refused to use his blinker. People who do that should have a bucket taped to their head and be sent out to play in traffic.

2) The woman in front of me at Peets today who had on nylons with open toed shoes. Girl, NO.

3) The cashier at Peets who handed me my scone with his bare hands since they were out of bags...I don't like revealing that I have this phobia of people touching my food, so I was then in the predicament of having to tell him that I needed a new one and could he please use the tongs that were RIGHT THERE and FOR THAT PURPOSE?

4) The profuse amount of Nickleback that has been playing lately. Why must you (radio gods) torture my ears with that? And on a Friday? Before my latte?

5) That The View was playing in the background at work. If I wanted to listen to a bunch of chickens being strangled (which is what that show is akin to for me), I would. That show should only be inflicted on people if they've been heavily sedated first...and tequila shots would probably be frowned upon at work...before lunch.

6) That my client who came in with a broken foot and sprained wrist then complained that I hadn't worked her out hard enough. She almost added a bruised shin to her list of ailments with that comment.

7) That my underwear keeps riding up. I think my ass has gotten too big.

8) That I forgot my sunglasses at Cory's and it's SUPER bright out.

9) That EVERY TIME I go to the bathroom at work the toilet paper roll is empty...and the new rolls are DIRECTLY in front of the toilet in this charming little basket, so it's not like it would cause someone to pop a rib out to put the new roll on. I swear, I exist only to do this menial task.

10) That someone ate the soy yogurt I had put in the fridge at work. Seriously, that stuff tastes like ass and only I like it, so wtf?

I'm actually in a brilliantly happy mood today - shock, I know! Sometimes, one just needs to air out the list of grievances...much better...

I couldn't have said it better myself...

So today...

...today was one of those days where I felt like the world might have been a better place had I just stayed in bed. It was a day where I woke up grumpy and never really fully recovered, my good mood having fallen behind my mattress, irretrievable. It happens. People were generally irritating, my shoes hurt and I kept getting behind stupid drivers. We've all been there.

So imagine my delight when I stumbled across this website www.slobberspace.com. I'm an avid dog lover...those of you who know me well know that I'm crazy in love with my dog Kylie and actually usually like her more than I do most people. I know, it's a sickness and totally abnormal.

Anyways, I had a long laugh over this photo, as it expressed my exact mood today AND got me out of my funk. So enjoy, and if you need a pick-me-up, spend some time on the site. It's guaranteed to lift up your day!