Monday, July 16, 2018

High Alert

The World Cup is over.

I'm not even a soccer fan but man, did I have World Cup Fever. I loved the group stage and I loved the drama of the knock-out stage and I loved the Senegal coach and I loved Mbappe and I loved the athleticism and grace of those beautiful, beautiful men. My poor little Croatian friends lost yesterday -- there goes my five bucks -- but Mistah's lovely Frenchies won in commanding style so at least I got a drink out of it.

So now what do we do?

The World Cup is over. It's baseball's All-Star break. Wimbledon is over. Sailfest is over.

So now what do we do?

I'll tell you what we do.

We go to the beach. We embrace the second half of this glorious Summer.

And we go on Cacti Corey High Alert.

Blossom #1

Blossoms #2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9

Please be comforted to know that I will keep you duly apprised of her progress.

Happy Summer Part 2!

Thursday, July 12, 2018

movin on up

This is ridiculous because I moved over a month ago, and the house has changed so much since I uploaded these on that first Friday with the intention of showing off the new pad. I was just thinking that I should find the cord and hook up the camera and scroll through the myriad shots of how things look now! Then I though what I always think ... I don't have time for that right now, I'll do it later. Then another month goes by. 

Sorry, charlie - we're going back in time
 to the very first day I got the keys to our big bad beautiful 
(what's a synonym for house that starts with b? I just looked it up. I don't like billet)

I sent this to two friends who are now neighbors with the caption: "There goes the neighborhood"
It's a big house. A big beige empty house.

If you recall, the yellow house of love was inhabited in a furnished state, so we never had much cause for concern about the fact that we'd left most material possessions behind when we got divorced. We enjoyed a lovely two year respite from caring about such things, but now it was time to navigate some acquisitions, baby. Big ones.

So we got a big rig 

and filled it with big stuff

This, my friends, is my happy place. I'll upload one recent pic at the end so you can see it in all its present glory. I can't stop buying things for this deck. That door on the left is my bedroom. 
So anyway, we had a big rig for a couple of days and drove it endlessly back and forth along the 5 mile journey from the old house to the new house. We sure had a lot of stuff for people without any stuff.

Let's go back to the happy place. That's SeaWorld back there. They are turds but they make pretty views. 
The house is big and spacious and has many funny quirks. Take, for example, the oven

Normal sized roasting pan for scale. Don't come for Thanksgiving. 
Other things are quite large

Teen sized pantry
One of the first nights we slept over, my son went back to the old house to get a few things and I asked him to pack up some useful stuff from the pantry. Here is what he brought:

Someone said it looks like the shit you donate to a food drive
One of my very best friends lives 5 doors up, which is awesome and so fun and convenient and the best thing ever. Look how adored I am by these two:

Thank goodness that Mary is just down the way, and came right over with booze and an actual adoring glance.

The photo below is packed with meaning. I was taking video at the time, which I planned to entitle "the slow wag of confusion" because that was exactly what she was doing.

However, the photo was the one we ended up using to find that confused little knucklehead when she got out of the yard while naked from her collar.

We only had one dog that night. It was awful. 

Hey look, furniture! and TWO dogs! Yay, we found her. 


We've all settled in nicely, and our tails are no longer doing the slow wag of confusion. Mostly. It's a great house in a great neighborhood and so what if I'm in a vortex of repair mishaps and customer service horror? So what. It's a great house and we're home.

Happy place. 

Monday, July 9, 2018

Home Improvisation

We had a Big Plan.

We had a tree that was in a pot in front of the house when we bought the place and moved in ten years ago -- I know! -- and everything was just absolutely fine, but then we planted a Rose of Sharon and it kind of took off . . .

. . . it "kind of" took off.

The poor ol' original tree, in its poor ol' original pot, was lolling about back there behind Rosie. And he really was lolling . . . and by "lolling" I mean "rolling": he kept falling over.

It took three people, a rubber mallet, and a kitchen knife to get him out, but get him out we did.

Here's here he was.

I'm sorry; I'm a terrible photographist. But Mistah was busy shoveling and digging and replanting and being generally Of The Earth and for the love of pete's sake I was not going to interrupt that.

And we didit. We got him out of its old pot -- nay, pots; there were two, one inside the other; go figure -- we transplanted him, we gave him his shiny new home . . .

. . . shiny new home

And Hsinny came over and said, "The arborvitae looks great!"

Um . . . what???

Yeah. It's an arborvitae. Not quite as exotic and unique a tree as we thought. But man does he look great. In his pot. Directly across the street from all his relatives who live for FREE in the GROUND.

But not our arborvitae, oh no. Our arborvitae has class. Our arborvitae pays for his lodgings. No wait a minute. No, he doesn't. We do.

That's how Home Improvisation goes around here . . .

And speaking of which . . . wish us luck with our next project.

What could possibly go wrong?