Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Yard Work: Part II

I talked about our lawn in my last post, and I’ve got one more thing to say, but first, I want to give you some background on our excavator.

My husband has a 1-year-old German shepherd. Technically, she’s “our” dog, but as far as she’s concerned, I am a wicked witch who happens to reside in the same home as her and her father. I’m not sure WHY she came to this conclusion, but I can’t seem to change her opinion of me. It was ME who purchased Erika, it was ME who filled out mounds of paperwork and went through multiple phone interviews with the breeder, it was ME who drove 18 hours to bring her home, it was ME who was the stay-at-home parent for the first 3 months, and then worked only a few hours a day until she was 10 months old. I potty trained her, I feed her, I took her through her first obedience classes, I played with her and trained her tricks during the day, and I am the one who reminds her father that we love her and can’t give her away, even when she has eaten 18 inches of the door frame or hubby’s beret.

Still, she is a daddy’s girl ‘til the end. And truly, I’m glad. When we got married, I had Satchel (R.I.P, my darling, dear, Satchel), who had been around long before hubby was in the picture. They loved each other, but me and Satch, we were a pair. Erika had been hubby’s dream dog since he was in grade school, so it couldn’t have been better that she took to him, despite my heavy involvement in her raising.

Erika was a dream-puppy. She had less than a dozen accidents in the house, she passed her S.T.A.R puppy test on the first try, she’s the smartest dog I’ve ever met and whoever said you can’t have beauty and brains never met our baby girl. I may be bias, but her breeding and paperwork backs up my claims, she’s quite an extraordinary dog.

As well bred and gorgeous as she is, sadly, E is not immune to the teenage phase. Now that I’m back to work full-time, she is left home alone with my (well-behaved) black lab, Buford all day. As much as we don’t like being at work, hubby and I dread going home. Every day it’s something new, and always worse than the day before.

Destroyed items worth noting:
-my passport
-hubby’s beret (If you aren’t military, you may not know this, but they spend a LOT of time shaping those things, pretty important and big deal items)
-18 inches of the interior door frame in the kitchen
-many, many slippers, gloves, books, and other items she felt needed to be tasted

Those are just a few of the things from INSIDE. Outside, our lawn is littered with things we’ve never seen, but she somehow got a hold of, and proceeded to destroy. I wouldn’t be too concerned if it was potato chip bags, papers, or other miscellaneous bits of trash that sometimes blow from yard to yard. No, there are railroad ties (I’m not even sure WHERE the closest railroad is), large bones we never brought her, and gutters. The gutters are the weirdest part. They aren’t coming off of OUR house (believe, me, we’ve checked), and they’re huge strips, ranging from 2 feet to 6 feet… I don’t know what she does during the day to acquire this stuff, but somehow it ends up covered in teeth marks in our yard.

When she’s not disassembling houses for the gutters, or hanging out by the railroad chewing on ties, Erika turns her attention to the lawn. Our backyard looks like the surface of the moon, there are craters everywhere! The holes are unsightly and irritating, but when it rains they become even worse, holes become mud pits. Erika loves mud pits even more than she loves travel documents, exterior pieces of homes and Army uniform headwear all put together. I, however, do not love a muddy dog, because inevitably, I have just mopped the floor and put on dress clothes when she comes tearing in, dirties up my floor and leaves me with paw prints on my skirt. (Real quick: worse than a muddy dog, is a poopy dog.)

When hubby finally reached the breaking point and couldn’t deal with the holes anymore; we began to research ways to stop a digging dog. The first suggestion we tried was filling the holes with the dog’s poop. (This is how we ended up with a poopy dog). This solution was gross, and didn’t work. The other popular suggestion was to fill the hole, and just under the surface, lay chicken wire. When a dog digs into the wire, it hurts and they are deterred. Aha! So we went to Home Depot and bought 80lbs of dirt and a roll of chicken wire.

80lbs of dirt only filled in one crater, and Erika proceeded to dig around the chicken wire, then pulled it out and restored the hole to it’s former glory. Except now it’s even bigger because of the hole next to it. She did not, however, chew up the chicken wire.

Our latest strategy? If you can’t change your circumstance, change your attitude. We went to Wal-Mart and bought six rose bushes and took advantage of the evenly placed holes E dug us (Hubby only had to slightly move ONE hole!). We’re hoping the thorns will prevent her from pulling them up or digging around them.

Hopefully soon we’ll have flowers, but I’ve got a gut feeling we’ll end up seeing those holes again before long, have a dog with a bloody mouth and rose bushes chewed and scattered among the gutters…

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Thanks For Giving Us SH*T!

No, really, thanks for the SH*T!

Hubby and I don’t have lawn-of-the-year. A decent amount of the green stuff is crab grass, and more often than not, it’s a little over due for a mowing. We keep it up, it’s not horribly embarrassing, but it’s not pristine. It’s not that we don’t care, it’s just that we don’t know what to do, and even if we did, we simply don’t have time to maintain it to the standards of our neighbor, “the Yard-Nazi”. Is it a requirement that every block have THAT guy? You know who I’m talking about, Mr. Loves-His-Lawn-More-Than-His-Kids?

Spring is coming around, and with a high of 69 yesterday, and 80s in the forecast this week hubby and I got started on the yard. Last week we raked up all the leaves and other things that show up when the snow melts. Not to be outdone, the next day, The Yard-Nazi also raked his lawn. Sunday hubby mowed. As soon as the Yard-Nazi heard mower engine rev up, he abandoned his family barbeque to trim his grass, too. I don’t know why he’s so competitive with US. As I said, we’re not even in the running for any ribbons here.

Yesterday was the big day, weeding the flower bed and planting some new color, tilling up all the dead grass and putting down seed, you know, the fun stuff! We already had the seed and the seed spreader; we just needed to go to the store for a few colorful plants for the flowerbed, and for the lawn, some kind of fertilizer, top soil… You know, manure.

Hubby and I both pulled into the driveway at 6; there was a foul smell in the air. Our across-the-street neighbors were out getting their mail and called over “Hey! We just fertilized our lawn; we’ve still got a truck load of this stuff if you need any, feel free to help yourselves!” What luck, a whole truck-bed full of horse poop! It even got better! They told us WE had first dibs, and when we were done, the Yard-Nazi was going to use whatever was left!

We stayed out past dark, drinking a few beers and digging, spreading, watering, planting and taking total advantage of all the free fertilizer! All the while, the Yard-Nazi stealing glances, waiting his turn at the good-stuff in the back of the truck so he could top us again!

Plants for the flowerbed: $11.00
Grass Seed: $24.00
The pride that comes from digging in horse SHI*T while the Yard-Nazi looks on with envy: Priceless

Monday, March 22, 2010

Are YOU My Mother?

Hubby’s family came to visit this weekend. I’m very blessed to have not only a wonderful hubby, but wonderful in-laws! We had a great time, they taught us to play Kings in the Corner and we showed them the things to see on post and some of our favorite places around our town. Our dogs were excited to see cousin-Juno and and we were all sad to see them leave yesterday.

Hubby and I got married more than 6 months ago, went home for Thanksgiving and hadn’t seen either of our families since, and while the distance from our families has been strange, it’s also been nice in a lot of ways. We missed everyone at Christmas, but enjoyed spending the holiday together and making it our own (We won’t be able to share our next one, with hubby on another continent). We often miss the advantages of built-in dog sitters, or having parents there for a promotion ceremony, sisters and brothers to enjoy comedy shows with and going out with good friends from back home. However, the fresh start and opportunity to grow together as a couple is very special to us.

Do you want to know the thing I MOST appreciate about living more than 7 hours away from everyone we knew? It is being able to avoid the awkwardness of addressing his parents.
My parents were born and raised in the south, where you said Sir and Maam, and they brought us kids up the same way. Hubby’s parents were always Mr. and Mrs. to me. When hubby proposed and we became engaged, it felt too formal to call them Mr. and Mrs., but there was no way I would start calling them by their first names uninvited! Here the avoidance began. Since Christmas, 2008, I have successfully NOT called my hubby’s parents anything, most of the time it was quite easy, and when it wasn’t, my escape was to enlist hubby’s help, “Babe, can you get your mom’s attention?”

The avoidance technique worked for almost a year! Until the night we came back from our honeymoon; we were at his parents’ house talking to his dad. A comment was made about “Mrs. W”, and hubby stepped in to remind him that I am also “Mrs. W” now! This was the moment I had waited for, permission to call them… Something! Nope. No further instructions, he just laughed at the realization.

Hubby and I are good friends with a couple down the street, who also just got married (The same day we did, actually). Recently, her in-laws came to visit, and mine were planning their first trip out, which led to her and me commiserating over dinner about the anxiety caused by not knowing what to call your husband’s parents. While hubby laughed at us that night, he must have taken my concerns to heart. I knew he told his parents because this weekend, they made sure to tell me, more than once, to call them…

Mom and Dad.

A flood of relief, I can finally directly address them again!

But wait! Mom and Dad…? Aren’t those… MY parents? Don’t they already have dibs on the titles? Am I the only one who finds this… awkward? *sigh*

“Are YOU my Mother?”

Friday, March 19, 2010

What Would You Do For $5?

Just discovered this website today. I think I'm going to buy cartoon images of hubby and me for $5.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Faking It

There are only 2 reasons to move to our town, you’re going to College or you’re in the Military. Couple that primarily-young population with the lack of big city things to do around here, and you end up with a lot of drinking. To my knowledge, our town is the only one known for “Fake Patty’s Day”. Held the week before the traditional St. Patrick’s Day, it is nothing but a drinking holiday; I’m told the bars opened at 8am.

Hubby and I aren’t old. We’re actually pretty young, I’m just approaching 25 this year and he will follow right behind, but we FEEL old. Our bed time is 9pm (Our alarm goes off at 5am) we grumble when our neighbors come home from the bars after midnight. Our bodies are falling apart - if we combine our working knees, we only have one set.

I love hubby and the way we live our lives, but put us next to a few 21-year-olds and we might as well be collecting social security. It’s amazing how just a few years can make such a difference in your priorities and lifestyle. In an effort to embrace our youth, we did go out Saturday, but certainly not at 8am. We went to a communications class in the morning, helped a friend move and paint, came home so hubby could lay on a heating pad for his back and read a history book while I got ready to go downtown.

We left the house about 6:30, planning to go get supper at one of our favorite bars (Whose burgers were voted the best in the state, no big deal. They grill a mean portabella mushroom too!). We assumed that since the bars opened at 8, the crowd would have cleared out a little bit; surely no one has that kind of stamina. Apparently lots of folks do. I’ve never seen so many Kelly Green clad drunks in my life! Most of who had awesome t-shirts printed with sayings like “He thinks I’m only faking today!” or “If women can fake orgasms, we can fake a holiday”, etc. (Quick tip for the ladies: Don’t ever fake. You’re cheating yourself! Make him learn to get it right!)

After an extensive wait to even get INTO the bar, and then finally snagging a table, we had a great time people-watching, and were joined by hubby’s commander and his fiancĂ©. We had fried pickles, an obligatory green beer, and juicy burgers (One of us had a portabella burger). I had 2 Irish Ale’s, brining me to a whopping total of 3 beers over 4 hours, on a made-up-just-to-drink holiday. I have become somewhat of a lightweight again because this left me with a pretty good buzz. Cheap drunk alert :-P

The last time we closed the bars, the only time we ever closed the bars, was early last summer. It took us weeks to recover! We had a great time on Saturday, even though we were home before 11; it was still way past our bed time.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Das Bo

Our cat, Garrett, is a long haired red tabby whose parents were related, so in addition to short, stumpy legs he’s also not quite right in the head. Garrett was born in July of 2007, the year my favorite baseball team, the Colorado Rockies went to the World Series. Even if they hadn’t gone to the World Series, I still would have named my kitten after the 3rd baseman. I’m not sure about the baseball player, but our Garrett likes to sleep upside down.

Garrett Buckley W is a cat of many names, including, but certainly not limited to:

Das Bo
Garrett Garrett the ferret
Garbanzo Bean
And the list goes on. We also call him the Goldfish because his memory only lasts about 3 seconds, at best.

Garrett is really a friendly cat, he loves being held and cuddled and pet, he’s even fairly social, as far as cats go, but for the first few months there was some confusion regarding who I was.

Garrett loves mornings as much as I do, we’d wake up early and cuddle, he’d watch birds out the window while I watched the news, we’d share breakfast (he loves cinnamon rolls) and then I’d leave for work. On occasion, I’d forget something in the house and have to run back in quickly to retrieve it. Having only been gone a matter of seconds, I was disappointed when he would run and hide when I came back inside. Upon returning home in the evening, he had no idea who I was and would hide for as long as a few hours. We’d make friends again and cuddle at bed time and start again the next day. Eventually, something clicked and he began to remember me.

When hubby and I were dating, Garrett would snuggle up on the sofa with us while we watched TV; he took to hubby, to the point of becoming annoying at times, but never could remember him after any amount of separation. If hubby left to use the bathroom during a commercial break, upon his return, Garry’s eyes would go as big as baseballs and he’d puff up and run to the nearest hiding place. Eventually, he’d remember how nice it was in our laps and things would be ok until hubby left the room again. Garrett’s short-term memory made it hard for him and hubby to bond, since hubby is gone more than he’s home, at that point, months at a time.

Hubby and I were dating very seriously (as a matter of fact, he proposed shortly after this incident… Despite this incident!) when I asked him to take Garrett to the vet. Poor G had ear mites and my work schedule was such that I couldn’t take him right away. Hubby was home on leave and had a fairly open schedule so he made an appointment.

The day of the vet visit, hubby, Gary and I loaded up into Iron Hide (My truck, no, hubby didn’t name it, I did); hubby would drop me off at work and then continue on with G to the vet, only a mile away from my office.

Garrett doesn’t “do” cat carriers. He rides loose in the cab of the truck. Before this day, he had made many 2 hour trips in the past that way, and since then has even made 3 8-hour drives. No problems. Ever. (Side note: The picture is Garrett riding on the headrest on one of the said 8 hour drives. Our 2 large, unruley dogs were in the back seat at the time. No peeing. No pooping.)

Hubby dropped me off at work and he and Gary started towards the vet’s office. Garrett suddenly decided that he was uncomfortable in the truck, and no longer trusted hubby, he started howling and hid underneath the driver’s seat. Hubby heard a strange squishing sound, followed by the distinct smell of cat pee. And poop.

Hubby threatened to throw Garbanzo in the river on the way home, but he didn’t follow through with that. Hubby proposed, Bonzo’s ear mites went away, and so did hubby for a few months for more training.

When hubby finished Air Borne school, I was excited to have him home again, Gare wasn’t so much. The first day he was home, we didn’t even see the Bo. The next morning though he was friendly as ever and followed me around while I got ready for work. Hubby kissed me goodbye at the door and went back inside.

When I got home from work that evening, Garry as always, ran to the door to meet me. Hubby was surprised, claiming to have not seen him since that morning, when he was in the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and the way hubby tells it, Garrett walked by the door, stopped at the opening and puffed himself up, let out a growl too big for a small orange cat, a with a hiss he ran and hid in the closet and didn’t come out until he heard my keys in the door.

We’ve had no such problems since then; Garrett must have finally realized that hubby is with us for the long haul.

A few interesting facts about Das Bo:

Tricks known: 3, sit, speak and roll over. He learned those tricks using cheese as bait.
Favorite Food: Garrett is not a picky eater, but his favorites are cheese, ice cream and bread. He also enjoys scrambled eggs but not if they’re too soggy.
Wardrobe: He owns 3 ties and actually quite enjoys wearing them for special occasions or company.
Favorite time of the day: Cuddle time, or 9pm, right before bed. As soon as hubby and I start heading upstairs, Gare rushes to jump on the bed and get a prime snuggling spot. We usually have to kick him out of the room because he purrs so loud. Then he keeps us up trying to get our door open. Gare always wins.
Favorite game: Garret plays “Put the Gary in the coconut and twist him all up” with hubby, who just spins Gare around in circles on the laminate floor singing the name of the game. You would think this was not a fun game, but Gary always comes right back for more.

A Look of Sneak About Me

I’m not very sly. I feel that people should do right, so it’s not entirely bad that I am incapable of being dishonest, but it would be convenient for practical jokes on hubby or calling in “sick” to work once in a while, but I always give it away when I’m up to no good. Hubby says I have “a look of sneak” surrounding me.

Despite my lack of sneakiness, I recently conjured up what I dubbed a “Master Plan”, and it was successfully executed last night!

The Master Plan was not entirely dishonest or wrong. I know this because I called my mom to ask her, and my mom has the best conscious in the whole wide world. Maybe better than Mother Theresa, I don’t know for sure, but mom, well, she’s defiantly a very good person, and she said this was ok.

The grocery store here offers 10 cents off of each gallon of gas when you spend $100.00 on groceries. You can only use this once, though, you use it, and have to start over. Hubby and I just hit the $200 mark, and earned ourselves 20 cents off per gallon! This is huge for us because A) We are cheap and like to save money, and B) We both drive a helluvah lot and use a lot of gas.
We were discussing our good fortune of 20 cents off per gallon for days; see I’m telling you that for real, this was a HUGE deal in our frugal, mucho-gas consuming household. We couldn’t decide WHO got to use the discounted gas. Beth, hubby’s car, was almost on E, but she gets very good mileage. My truck, Iron Hide, was not quite as thirsty as Beth, so not really next in line for a fill up, but doesn’t get nearly the mileage she does. It really shouldn’t have been that important, we both consumed the groceries that earned us the discount, and the money to pay for them and the discounted gas comes out of a join checking account, we both work. It was a matter of pride.

In a moment of greatness, it came to me, the Master Plan.

Hubby and I have been pumping just a little gas in, here and there when we needed it, NOT using the 20 cent discount, until we timed it so that both vehicles were on empty at the same time. Finally the time came. Late last night we drove both vehicles to the grocery store. I say late but it probably wasn’t, it was late for us though, after 8pm. Anyway, back to the Master Plan: in the cover of darkness I hoped the attendant wouldn’t notice, thankfully, she was not very alert, so it was easy to get away with The Master Plan.

I pulled the Hide into the pump, hubby in Beth pulled in right behind. I punched in our phone number and answered YES when asked “Use 20 cent fuel discount now?”! Iron Hide drank until he was satisfied, and as he was finishing his drink, hubby ran over to remove the nozzle, I was already in the driver’s seat, keys in hand, ready to go when the moment came. I quickly pulled the Hide up a little and ran back to take the nozzle from hubby, who, fast as lightning! pulled Beth up into the spot and I began filling her to FULL! Both cars, full of gas, DISCOUNTED gas!

I was on a high for the rest of the night, giggling and feeling so proud of coming up with, and getting away with, the Master Plan, that I couldn’t even sleep! I probably kept poor hubby up, who had a 7 mile run at am this morning. Sorry hubby, at least I saved us some money! J

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Wedding, Anyone?

There are a few websites I check regularly, perhaps even obsessively, – Weekly, updates on Sunday – Daily – Daily – For Sale, Community and Missed Connections - Multiple times daily

If you’re not already familiar with these sites, start checking them out! Yup. Pretty much amazing stuff here.I found a real gem the other day that I’d like to share…

Found on, Missed Connections

I’m actually going to post this missed connection add here, because it will expire, and it’s defiantly worth saving…

“Hello, This ad is being because I need to marry a military man or someone similar because of the custody war I am in. My children are my life and heart. I would do anything for them and if that means getting married to show a household income of substantial amounts will keep them from the father that has 4 child abuse charges against him then so be it. He has remarried and a 19 year old and is holding down a job as a fast food girl, he and she put together make $2. more an hour than I do but the judge is considering giving my girls to them for this reason. The case will be reviewed in 6 months when a final decision will be made.

I am willing to sign a pre nup. All I really need is just your name and a bank statement when the court date comes. You are welcome to claim us on your taxes next year if thats a pro for you. I would only want what we would make with out you. When it comes to a Bal I we can talk about it. When your away on leave, if there is an option for us to live on base for free, Great... If not thats fine to. I'm am very well respected and have No record. I'm a great mom and love God. I'm from the south and hold true to those values.

If you are needing a wife for any reason as strange as mine shoot me a line and let me know if we can help each other.

Again please understand, you must be a business owner, or have a substantial income to be considered, or be well vested in the military.

I have photos and will gladly send them. Those with pics get first response”

Wedding, anyone?

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Wild! As Wild Animals!

I saw this on and had to laugh; hubby and I have been talking about ferrets for the last week.

I’ve always been intrigued by ferrets, and years ago, I briefly owned one. She really belonged to an ex, who thought she was a boy and named her after a strip club called Shotgun Willy’s. When we broke up (That was probably the best decision I have ever made!), he left her with me. I eventually re-homed her with some friends who are pretty much the best ferret owners ever and were kind enough to change her name to Lilly.

I’m not really that well informed when it comes to ferrets, so when I learned that here in Kansas, they are WILD ANIMALS I was intrigued! I suppose they have to come from SOMEWHERE, but I’ve just never imagined them running free. If Lilly was an accurate representation of ferrets, they don’t make good wild animals.
I was excited to tell hubby this tidbit on our drive home (sometimes we get to carpool, I love those days!)

“Baby! Guess what! Did you know that ferrets are wild here?”
I assumed he would be as WOW’d by this as I was, but his response was somewhat disinterested, so I tried again,

“Wild! As wild animals!”

Hubby was significantly less impressed with the untamed ferrets than I was, but had a good long laugh at my last statement. At least once a day since, he has reminded me that ferrets are wild… As wild animals!

I won’t be wishing to see one running in a field somewhere, because I’m saving my next wish for a winning lotto ticket, but I sure would sure love to see one, wild, as a wild animal!
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