Me vs. The Lawn Equipment

While I was out running the other day, I saw one of my young, female neighbors calmly and efficiently trimming the grass around her flower beds using my most feared yard tool: the Weed Wacker. She made it look so easy that I vowed this would be the weekend I would finally try to conquer the rest of the mysterious manly stuff in the shed that I've been avoiding.

I think I missed something...

So this morning I got up, opened the shed, put on my gloves, and got to work. I tried to ease into it, first mowing the grass with my nice, silent, non-gas-spewing manual mower. Today, it was okay that it didn't even pretend to cut the thicker weeds; the dreaded Wacker was following close behind to tame those reluctant tufts into submission. After going over the whole backyard a few times, I could no longer avoid it.  I got the Wacker off its hook, attached the extension cord, and pressed the button. And I was.....moderately successful. The edges along the walkway are clearly delineated if a little wonky, and I only wacked a few bare patches into the lawn. However, while the weeds along the edge of the path were severed, they were still stubbornly clinging to the center of the path.

After somewhat clearing the path, I turned to the weeds at perimeter of the house, and that's when things really went downhill. They should change the sticker saying, "no bumping required" to "no bumping into the side of the house recommended." Anyone know how to fix that little green thingy?

On the bright side, it does still wack things--just in a much smaller circumference.

Once I was sufficiently dejected by the Wacker, I turned to the Blower. This is much more my style. I might get some dirt on my face, but I won't chop off any toes, and there are less moving parts for me to break. It's also lighter and easier to carry around. Unfortunately, I am only as good with the Blower as I am with an iron, which is to say...not good. For every area I smooth out, I create more wrinkles in other areas that were just fine and dandy prior to my intrusion.

I tested my aptitude with this equipment from the shielded safety of my backyard prior to going out front, because I knew I was going to make an ass out of myself and wanted to limit the number of spectators as much as possible. But even with the practice, I did get quite a few strange looks once I finally tackled the front yard. It probably had something to do with the medieval torture device I was jumping up and down on. I speak of course of the Aerator. Our front yard is so dry and grassless and compacted that instead of rolling it to and fro like a normal person, I had to take a more series-of-swift-punctures approach. 

But having a raggedy yard will just make our house spookier for Halloween, right? And that'll be here before you know it, so it's probably a good thing that I start getting ready now...

Oh and did I mention that while all these festivities were happening, one of our dogs, Ollie, licked up some ant killer? Don't worry, I called the poison control number and he'll be fine. Turns out it's mostly ground up corn, and the pesticide is much more harmful to a microscopic ant than it is to an 80 pound dog. So today, it's actually a good thing that he's a bit of a fat-ass!

I think we all better stay inside for a while. 

A Self Righteous, Passive Aggressive Moment

The next time my neighbors decide to throw a loud, obnoxious party until 3 a.m., I just might have to wake up at 6 a.m. the next day to do some yard work. In particular, I might have to mow the non-existent grass and blow around all of those leaves that are in my side yard. You know, the side yard right outside my bedroom window where all their drunk friends were parked, and thus where their drunk friends kept slamming their car doors all night. Apparently, a prerequisite for attending an obnoxious party is the ability to enter and exit things emphatically. I might also have to scream expletives while I'm doing said yard work, but that shouldn't bother them because it seems to simply be the way in which they communicate with one another.

Seriously though, I live in a really nice, family friendly neighborhood. If they want to throw down like that, they should have chosen to live on campus in the Greek Village. I realize I'm sounding like an old fuddy duddy, but people's complete obliviousness (or plain lack of regard) for how their actions might effect other people gets under my skin and drives me crazy. We've had parties here until the wee hours of the morning...but we keep the noise inside the house, not outside right next to where our neighbors are trying to sleep. Even in my college heydays I tried to keep the volume down whenever I had parties. Be young and fiesty, do whatever you want. But don't force the whole rest of the neighborhood to listen to your idiocy. It's just rude.

Sink or Swim

I am now officially a geo-bachelorette. We knew this day was coming, but despite all of our best intentions to "prepare" ourselves we didn't really succeed at that. I was taking an intense summer class, spending all my nights and weekends doing schoolwork. The Hubs was packing up his stuff and hanging out with all of his SC friends for a last hoorah. And then, suddenly, he was gone. The days had been so full of stuff to do that the reality of living apart for nine months didn't finally sink in until his Uhaul was pulling out of the driveway.

For the first week, I couldn't sleep. I would lay in bed until 3, 4, 5 in the morning until finally lulled into an infomercial induced coma. It wasn't because I was worried about him; I knew he was safe and settling in. It was just different. There was something missing. It's a good thing he still has a lot of clothes and other things here, because it allows me the illusion that he is just gone for a short trip, whenever I need to fool myself. If his half of the closet was completely empty, I have a feeling I would be much more of a basket case. Even more of a basket case than using his bath towel that he left hanging on the hook instead of putting in the laundry hamper, just because it's his. (Don't judge me.)

Fortunately, I have slowly been forced back into a regular schedule by the demands of work and my final semester of grad school. And it's quickly become apparent that staying busy is going to be my primary coping mechanism for this separation. Between taking a research class, working three jobs, playing on a kickball team, training for a marathon, and doing all the house and pet stuff on my own, I don't have all that much time to sit around and pine for him.

Speaking of house and pet stuff, I am pretty proud of myself for not letting things immediately turn to rubble. I've been keeping up with the always-necessary vacuuming, dusting, mopping, etc. I have not allowed dishes to accumulate in the sink, despite having a broken dishwasher for a while. I've shuttled the dogs back and forth from the vet's office (although I do have to stagger the visits because I can't wrangle them both at once--especially since one becomes panicky and irate whenever coerced into the exam room). I've done yard work--and not just mowing! I actually trimmed all of our overgrown trees and shrubbery! (There is an inappropriate alternate meaning there as well, but I will gracefully leave it unsaid.) I also took a solo road trip with both dogs, which, believe me, requires acrobatic-like skills during potty stops.

However, I am still afraid of the weed-wacker and the power washer. And I have not yet had sufficient initiative to drag the mower onto the other side of the house. And I borrowed The Hubs' friend to come install the new dishwasher instead of figuring it out myself. And now the vacuum cleaner is broken, with pet hair swiftly accumulating as I figure out what the heck to do with it.

There was no gradually acclimating to this scenario. We just had to jump in--I like to imagine cannonball style, with a dramatic splash--into the deep end. And while I'm not sprinting through the waters, neither am I clinging desperately to a raft. I'm figuring things out the best I can, moment to moment.

I'm doggie paddling.

Ollie has not yet embraced the "sink or swim" mentality. He's a clinger.

The Storm Before The Calm

Getting ready to go on vacation is always a little crazy. There's trying to make up extra hours at work, doing laundry, packing, paying bills, figuring out petsitting arrangements, and generally doling out all the information anyone might need to take care of things in your absence. For us, it also usually includes a deep cleaning of the entire house, since The Hubs is singly focused on the joys of returning home to fur-free floors and fresh sheets. I have to admit, it is pretty nice. There was so much running around this time, however, that all we could manage was to mow the grass, do the dishes, and clean out the litter box. Our friend is staying at our house while we're gone to watch Ziggy and Tweeder, and he'll have his dog with him too, so I suppose the floors wouldn't be fur free when we got home, even if we had done the usual swabbing of the decks.

On Thursday, we drove the eight hours up to my parents house to drop off our other dog Ollie. Friday was filled with running errands and my sister's surprise 30th birthday party, and this morning we woke up bright and early and are currently sitting in Dulles airport waiting for our flight to beautiful St. Martin. Well, we're flying to St. Maarten, but then staying on the French side, St. Martin.

That's right. After seven months of marriage, we're finally going on our honeymoon! So all of the crazy preparations were totally worth it, because my reward is to spend a whole week alone with my honey, right here:

(photo from villavillas.com)

Cheers,
Sarah

Before & After

Posting some photos of a few rectified Loose Ends in an attempt to keep myself motivated:

Half torn off sticker on cabinet for two months...
gone in two minutes with a little Goo Gone and a paper towel.

I have been meaning to paint and put knobs on this once-ugly 70s side table for about five years.
The cute knobs are from World Market -- one of my very favorite stores!

The mountain of boxes was from wedding gifts, which started rolling in around
September 2010. We put the blow-up mattress out there in November 2010
when we had family in town for our wedding. Then the sun room became a full-blown
toss-it-in-there-close-the-door-and-forget-about-it room, until I finally cleared it out last month.
And it took all of ten minutes to load up all the boxes and take them to the recycle bin down the street. 

It's really amazing--and ridiculous--how long I've put off some of these projects, when most of them take only a couple minutes to finish. Next up: finish my taxes (more on this later) and organize my office, which is unfortunately not a simple a two-minute job!

Time Out

Well by now you should all realize that I'm quite the "joiner." Whether it's a fun get-together with friends, a volunteer opportunity, something extra at work, special school events and lectures, etc., I will almost always say "yes!" The upside to this is that I meet a lot of great people, have a lot of fun, learn a lot of new things, and gain some great experience. The downside is that there are only so many hours in a day, and when you say "yes" to everything you can easily end up having something planned for every waking moment. I have not yet learned the art of steadily balancing when to join in and when to politely decline, because it all sounds so interesting and I really would like to do everything. I enjoy having a busy schedule, but sometimes I just have to give myself a Time Out.

This week is Spring Break and, like always, there are so many wonderful opportunities that my "week off" was swiftly becoming even busier than a normal week. It all started last Friday, when I had a morning meeting with my mentor, followed by a Relay For Life team meeting, running errands, and then meeting a friend for dinner and the ballet. Saturday and Sunday were spent running more errands, working on school assignments, getting a haircut, going to a dinner party, and driving to Charleston and back for the Army Wives premier party. Monday I left bright and early for a two-day trip to rural Hampton County with Cocky's Reading Express. We did eight literacy events in those two days, meeting thousands of young students and their parents, waking up super early and driving back and forth all over the state. All of these things were awesome and exhausting in a wonderfully fulfilling way.

Once I got back from the CRE trip Tuesday night, I made a valiant effort to continue being productive, even rearranging and cleaning our guest room as soon as I got home. Then I sat down in front of the computer to check my email, and when I saw the hundreds of new messages needing responses, I hit my limit. My brain had finally crossed over from energizing stimulation to plain old overstimulation, and I just could not make myself sort through everything. It was Time Out time. Wednesday I got up as usual, fed the animals...and then did absolutely nothing for many, many hours. I sat on the couch, watched TV, read magazines, snuggled with my pets, and did not change out of my pajamas until four o'clock in the afternoon. It was delicious.

But then I got dressed, and played with the dogs, and cleaned up the yard, and exercised for an hour and a half, and went back to checking things off my revolving to-do list. Kids never appreciate Time Outs, but as an adult, I have come to realize that the ability to give self Time Outs is an art and a virtue. And a sanity saver. Thanks to my day of unapologetic slothfulness, I am now ready to tackle the rest of the week, which will consist of a lot of school work, and dealing with many more Loose Ends.

Do you give yourself Time Outs? Or have you actually figured out how to have a balanced life so you don't need them? What are some of the best ways you've found to "re-charge" if you can take a whole day, half day, an hour, or only 15 minutes? I'm always up for trying something new! ;)

Unraveled No More?

(not my photo)

I am a procrastinator. There, I've said it. And because of this character trait, I tend to accumulate a variety of loose ends until my life looks like a metaphorical fringed poncho...all encompassing, and seriously un-cute.

Thus, I have dubbed this Loose Ends Month! and I am swiftly tying off as many of those little frayed edges as possible. It's amazing how satisfying it is to check off even the smallest "to do" from my list. So far I've taken Ollie to the vet, returned days later to drop off his stool sample (lovely, I know), returned a stack of library books and paid my late fees, sent out a lot of emails and made some phone calls I've been meaning to, washed all our cloth grocery bags, mailed a sweater back to a friend, sent off our last two wedding gift thank you cards, scheduled a BYOB painting class, re-filled the sugar canister, cleaned out the inside of my car, procured my new married-name social security card and drivers license, and took care of a LOT of name-change hullabaloo with bank accounts, credit cards, car insurance, etc.

I still need to take a huge load of boxes to the recycling center, make doctor, dentist, and haircut appointments, finish a DIY project, get my bike tuned up, take a stack of clothes to get tailored and/or dry-cleaned, figure out our taxes, make some more phone calls to catch up with friends, sand down the door of our china cabinet so it opens and closes easier, and finally remove the stickers that came on our bathroom cabinet and have stayed there long after putting it together. Seeing as I have only two more days left in the month (darn you, February, for being condensed!) I will probably have some leftover fringe.

And because I seem to accumulate new loose ends as fast as I can tie off the old ones, I figure every month for the rest of my life will be Loose Ends Month. But whose isn't? As long as I'm steadily snipping away at everything, I feel a little less frazzled and a little more pulled together.

What are some of the random to-do's that you've been avoiding? You know, all those little (or big) things you walk past and notice twelve times a day without actually addressing. Please let me know that I'm not the only one!  :)

Cheers,
Sarah

Smells Like Grandma

The Hubs and I found an awesome antique mall here in Columbia. We got a personal tour and a great deal on a mid-century modern china cabinet (among a lot of other things we just couldn't resist) thanks to lovely Reading Rooster herself. Once we got home I spent hours organizing and loading everything into the cabinet, and am extremely happy with the results. We planned on painting it, but the odd yellow-brown color doesn't even look as offensive now thanks to the new rug I found that ties everything together.

There's just one problem.

When you open the doors of our lovely cabinet, you are assulted by a heady aroma that brings to mind moth balls and White Diamonds perfume. And I've got sinus issues, so you know it's gotta be bad for people with normal sniffers. Anyone know how to get "old people" smell out of wood furniture, so my dining room no longer smells like date night at an assisted living facility?

I'll be (un)patiently awaiting all of your suggestions. But in the meantime...who wants a shot of Geritol?

Cheers,
Sarah