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?