I spent all of last week and weekend moving my mom from a dungeon to a really nice 55+ community. After spending so much time gutting my house - room by room... that's JUST what I needed. Okay... maybe notsomuch. But SHE did do a pretty good job when I wasn't around... because each day when I left, I gave her tasks. I AM proud of my mother. She managed to fill 6 gigantic yard bags with CRAP (she knows I call it this) for me to take to Goodwill. I took them with me each day so that she couldn't dig through them and pull something out that I'd already semi-made her get rid of to begin with. There was a method to my madness... and my meanness.
In all seriousness - my mom probably had 180 pairs of socks. She kept at least 100 pairs (plus the drawer of them in her bathroom she didn't think I'd find). She had easily 40 pillowcases - which she tried to claim were all for the dogs, but... the silk ones? I don't think so mom. Oh... and my dads' W-2 from 1966? Pretty sure we don't need that anymore. Gadzooks.
Then - she had some stuff worthy of getting her some $$ for so I spent the other half of my days cataloging, taking photos of, listing and organizing in my office and on my big table. Craigslist and Ebay... here we come! The very office and big table that I had FINALLY cleared off only weeks before were now piled high again. <sigh> It had to be done and to date about half of the items have sold, though all of the Beanie Babies are going to Africa to children who've never received or even SEEN a toy before and stuff that doesn't sell will go to Goodwill.
I can tell you this much - The Goodwill Guy is SICK of seeing me pull up in Black Betty. Seriously. He is. Sick of it. I promised him after we got her moved that I was done. Done! Done! Done! But the next bag is filling up. So I will sheepishly shrug when this bag goes and tell him I really mean it this time. And I will!
Then yesterday - #7 calls me from the pharmacy, trying to get a prescription filled and the pharmacy is having problems with the insurance info. With The Dad going from contractor to Providence employee and insurance effective June 1 - I wondered if somehow his insurance had been cancelled early - so I then spent several minutes clearing that up, calling #7 back, giving him all of the info and that was all taken care of. NEXT!
Or so I thought... next... I get a text from #7 saying that the insurance saved him .50 - cents... yes cents off of a $50 RX. Uhhh... No. Not possible. So I spend the next hour and a half dealing with the insurance company who blamed Optum, then the pharmacy saying it should have only been $10 (which I knew) and that the only way to get the $$ back was to go through blah-blah-blah... Okay. Fine. I'll do that. But it wasn't quite how I intended to spend my morning.
And prior to THAT phone call yesterday - I was trying to secure rooms and get information about rooms/sizes/beds for a wedding coming up... but I got some gal from India (I thought this only happened in help desk phone calls) who constantly told me the names of OTHER wedding groups and not the one I needed. I said several times... "Thanks, I'll talk to the party who made the reservations and call back." To which she responded with the "Blake/Bryan group" and she could add me to that. O. M. G. I got the information I needed but my head was mentally fried so I waited until today to take care of that. THANK GOD FOR CHRISSY at the front desk who spoke perfect english.
Just when I think I can get my stuff straightened up - now that some of moms mess is gone (with the exception of the CRAP in my garage) a baby Bambi goes running by... followed a few minutes later by a young german sheppard. I feel like it might be my neighbors, but no... my neighbors would have a collar on. But a car pulls up trying to help it so I go out to see if I can help - only to have the dog CHARGE ME with a ferocious bark. Uhhh.... later days pup, you may be spooked and scared - but YOU just did the same to me. So safely behind closed doors - I put in a call to the neighbor to let her know her dog may, or may not be out. (It was her dog... and she's safe and sound now.) Note to self: Stay away from Betsy. Which... is NOT a good name for her. I'd try changing it to Cujo or Anni - short for Annihilation! Yikes!
So now I'm done - knock on wood - with miscellaneous stuff and I can get my few little tasks done that I need to do around here in preparation for the sunny day tomorrow - which will beg me to get out and mow the backyard. And it's all got to get done now - as we have house guests coming this week, a college grad party to help plan, a kid to pick up in Seattle... and a family + some party to plan for Cabo 2013, Part 2. I like the looks of this place - but The Dad had to ruin the dream by being all REALISTIC and everything... dadgummit!
On February 22, 2013 I saw a story on TV about Zach Sobiech - who... if you don't know his story - you should...
After watching his music video online and logging into CaringBridge, I quickly went to iTunes and downloaded "Clouds", the song Zach wrote. It's on my iPod now. I subscribed to his moms' CB updates so that I could keep track of him - hoping upon unrealistic hope that there might be good news to report along the way.
This is the original video that prompted me to download the song:
Then on May 5th - Zach's mom posted that he had celebrated his 18th birthday AND made it to prom on May 4th. Sooo... that's good news - right?
But on Monday, May 20th - the Twitterverse blew up with the news that Zach had died that morning. And that made me sad... I was surprised by all of the tweets from people I know that didn't know about this or hadn't heard this story yet - but then, not everyone watches ESPN either and that's where I first saw the story.
Fast forward to this morning. I woke up at 5:10 A.M. Why? I don't know. Insane for a Saturday. I went and fed the hounds at 5:36 A.M. Why? Because Boone would have wet himself if I didn't. When I came back up and crawled into bed - I picked up my iPhone that iLove and checked email, the Spokesman, UStream and the baby eaglets in MN, Instagram and then The Twitter.
In short order - I was bawling. Bawling - by this new video that I hadn't seen yet but that the Huffington Post had tweeted.
This is 22 minutes of your life - but it's a very, very worthy 22 minutes.
The Dad asked me, while still mostly asleep if I was crying and I sniffled as he rolled over and started snoring again. Uhhh... gee... thanks for your compassion, dear. But then, really... The Dad and I had never spoken of Zach Sobiech so I almost preferred this moment to myself AND not having to explain it to The Dad.
So The Dad gets home from playing racquetball this morning and I was busy restoring an iPod and old iPhone and The Dad asked me what video was I watching this morning that had me crying. So...
WOTY: "Oh. Just a thing on Zach Sobiech" (assuming he knew the story, even though we'd never spoken of it)
The Dad: "Who?"
WOTY: "Zach Sobiech. You know... the kid that wrote the song Clouds."
The Dad: "Huh uh. What song?"
WOTY: (Becoming less wife-of-the-year like) I plug in my iPod to the external speakers and play him Clouds. Then I tried with less patience to find the original video that made me download the song - but fearing he would start tapping away on his computer I just made him watch the second one above. And I cried again.
So we clicked and tapped here a bit more and found the video that the family watches - that was put together by celebrities:
Which is so. very. cool. And after I walked away... The Dad watched it again. And then I watched it... again.
"What makes you happy... is seeing someone else smile because you put it there."
It's taken a few months to get this house whipped into shape... It could have taken two weeks - but the mere mental thoughts of entering some of the rooms or closets, worried about spiders or just HOW MUCH crap would be in there to have to sort through. At times it took days to mentally prepare myself for what some of them were going to be like.
I've got to say that honestly - none of them were that bad. No spiders even.
But I've still got Wacks' room. And it's been giving me the heebie jeebies for a while now. Once I finished the huge closet next to his room I thought I was ready... but then I had to wash summer clothes for the trip, Ryan moved back for the summer and then I had to wash his summer clothes for the trip... Then I wanted to have the house clean for our house/dog sitter - so, you see how it goes.
I went to put something away in one of the already gutted bathrooms and somehow I missed the little cabinet standing up in the hall bathroom. I went to open it up and a Scentsy bar - brand new, never opened, fell out.
While I worked full time for the school district, I learned about and fell in love with Scentsy - so I started selling them "on the side". I never really did much more than throw an occasional open house and have friends come for wine, crackers and to see if there was a new scent they just couldn't live without, just enough to keep me eligible to be a consultant. I created a spot in what's now housing ALL of the books and movies in the spare bedroom - but even that was makeshift. Always with the thought that I'd eventually organize and make an appropriate spot. ("Ha! Right!" was usually my thought to myself)
But now I have. And I have ORGANIZED space (with the exception of the OLD Scentsy space.) So it hit me when that bar fell out that I HAVE organized, I AM organized AND I still love Scentsy. So... why not pick it up again?
When I "left" Scentsy - my sales had just started to pick up, I'd been elevated in the consultant system, but times were crazy and some things just had to go. I read that if and when I wanted to return - it had to be at least 6 months after my account was deactivated and THEN I'd have to explain why I'd left in the first place and why I felt I could come back. So I went to task on it (since Zach's room still seems such a daunting task) and *POOF!!* just like that, I'm up and running again.
I have to wait to receive new catalogs and order forms and the smelling samples (as there are many new ones since having left 2 and a half years ago) but the site is up, the favorites are all there and the catalog is online. <shrug>
The only thing is - now that I'm this organized - I've mostly run out of excuses why Zach's room can't have my undivided attention.
The good news is - once his room is done, repainted (yes... during Ryan's second year at WSU I painted his room a stylish khaki with Crimson to go with it. I ordered a WSU flag for the wall and a WSU bear for the bed...) I told Wack I would do the same for his room. ANNNNDDDDD now, once I'm done, we know it will smell nice!
Some people wonder "What about the EWU Eagle?" Why doesn't he get a room painted EWU colors? Well... because most of our family photos, and much of his football and sports career hang in most of the rooms of our house. He is well represented! No fretting to be had there.
So - for the next week or so, my Scentsy plug in is back in in the hall bathroom, with the scent I found in the bathroom. Poinsettia Pine. Yep... a Christmas scent. No matter... still smells fantabulous! But I'm really looking forward to Cherry Limeade and Sugar Cookie, of course!
If you know about Scentsy or need some new bars - please visit my NEW site at:
We hit the road for the airport about 7:15 AM on the 8th, arrived, parked, pulled our bags out of the car and I began pulling passports out of my purse for everyone to check in with. We checked one bag, got to security, pulled of shoes, belts, keys out of pockets and walked thru the scanner at Spokane International. The Dad was a few people behind me so I informed him through the scanner that I was heading to Starbucks for our drinks.
I ordered our drinks, waited for our drinks and as I tried to manage them, my carry on and my ginormous purse I looked behind me, expecting to see The Dad, Blue Eyes and Boozeanne... but they were not there. I looked towards the two concourses - realizing I hadn't taken note of which one we were in so went to set down the drinks, stand my carry on back up and pull my ticket from my ginormous purse. As I was finally getting to the papers I see the trio round the corner from security.
Weird. What took them so long?
They walk my way, I hand The Dad his drink and we venture up the B concourse.
THANK GOD I WALKED AWAY TO GET COFFEE.
This is why: After I walked away and everyone elses bags were still being scanned, The Dad walked through the scanner and then he heard the TSA agent say "Uhhhh, we're going to need Mary over here. We've got bullets."
Needless to say - he crapped his pants.
So yes. There were a few bullets in Ryan's bag. They've been there since our trip to Demingham at Christmas - where Richard took the boys all out shooting and then bequeathed upon them all bullets. Souveniers. But yes, bullets. In order to go on, Ry was going to have to surrender them or NOT go to Cabo. He chose wisely.
"Uhhhh, we're going to need Mary over here. We've got bullets."
Sweeeeeeet.
We arrived in beautiful, warm, sunny Cabo around 3:30pm - and though it was nearly the same temperature here in The Can that day, there was no ocean breeze, sand beneath peoples toes, or fun frilly umbrella drinks being delivered to the people on their chaise lounges here I'm guessing. <shrug> Or maybe there was some of that... First night dinner is, as usual, a jaunt down the beach to Tabasco where you sit at a table, toes in the sand and happy hour provides you with TWO drinks for the price of one. Perfection.
Night at Pepe's
First night at Alexanders
Mango Deck
Alexanders - 2nd Time Around. Douche LaRouche MC night.
Us with Rudy
Our room at La Estancia was very nice - though not stocked with the kitchen necessities to cook much more than breakfast so our trip to Costco and Walmart found us spending far less $$ this trip at those locations and far more $$$ dining out. Which didn't suck. With the exception of the sounds coming from our wallets. Ugh. We played "Liars Dice" a few nights, watched some Harry Potter and hit the night clubs a few nights as well.
The Dad and I made our daily mile trek to Starbucks each morning and by the time we arrived back, it was time to head to the beach. The very nice thing about going in the off season (other than it's hotter... oh how I love the heat, what with having that Winslow, Arizona blood running through my veins) was that we didn't have to race to the beach at 8 AM to place towels, books and other "markers" to "reserve" our spots... It was quiet. As quiet as could be. The deals were better, bartering was EASY SHMEEZY and food actually seemed affordable. The killer was the drinks. The drinks that at some places didn't have a hint of rum, or tequila or anything with any sort of PROOF of alcohol in them. I turned to wine and beer after about 4 days in. I should have "turned" earlier, but... oh well.
Early on in the trip Jeff or Ry said something and it went a little like... "Whuu whuu... what are the..." and... because Jeff and I have been on a kick with one of those AT&T commercials - it became the thing, whenever someone in the group stammered - to say "Wha wha... what about the animals? What would they be made of?" And we laughed and laughed and laughed. Just one of those things, I guess. But a very big part of our trip.
Snoozeanne was a trouper wearing the St. Louis Rams masks that Ry bought for him and his pal Dev and she and Ry became quite the barterers as the trip ended. We all got too much sun one day even though we'd slathered ourselves with sunscreen - so that was fun.
It's important to mention that the night we went to El Squid Row - we were seated towards the back before it began to fill up, or as it began to fill up and as is customary they have all of their "activities" going on. As the "coordinator" bopped around and gave away free shots - there came the moment where he said he needed 5 people who wanted a free beer. I raised my hand. I mean... who doesn't want a free beer? So he took pity on the old lady at the back of the establishment and picked me as Free Beer person #3. They didn't hand out coupons or call us up so I figured "Ehhh. Well, at least I was picked."
Then it happened. He pipes up by asking where his 5 Free Beer patrons are and that when he calls our number, we are to go up to him, stand on the chair in front of him and have a beer chugging contest with another employee of the bar.
Shit.
My usual is Angry Orchard hard cider these days and I certainly cannot CHUG one of those. There was no way I could down a Dos Equis in a friggin contest. Eff. I, who know that there's always some sort of loophole, that nothing is free... did NOT see this coming. Cuhhh... rap. So #1 went up. She lost. Then #2 went up. And she lost. So when I was asked if I had any words to the little gal bartender/server I said "Be kind". After all... I could tell she likely enjoys more beer than I do. Crap...
So here's my "showing" in the contest to help win everyone in the bar a "free shot". My mother is oh-so-proud. Well, okay, she's not, but the fella standing below me was pretty jacked up about it! (Click "Aye Carrimba!" link)
Shortly after I "won" my part of the 5 person contest... I decided that I MUST hold this little mexican baby boy... whose grandma had him in the bar... because that's how they roll in Mexico! And then right after that... we stood on chairs and danced. Because that's how WE roll when we're IN Mexico!
We ate well at Alexanders... our first time there (twice) and found a new place off the beaten path at Maria Corona. I looked at plate after plate after plate at all of the vendor shops and those who trudged down the beaches with the heavy things and finally, finally, on our last night found the one that was as close to what I was looking for as I was going to get AND I bartered very well for it AND a matching bowl. We inappropriately filmed an a middle aged asian man with no idea what a "beat" is at CABO WABO and laughed. A lot.
Annnnndddd.... then there was the elevator fun. It is safe to assume that from here until eternity - that if ever Suz, Jeff, Ry and myself are in an elevator with a mirror... Ryan will take his normal new stance:
If we had driven across the state, or flown to California or New York - I'd have fretted about the hounds here at home, even though we trust and love our dog/house sitters - but in Cabo, relaxing and having fun are all that come to mind.
Oh. My. I almost forgot.
So Ryan or Wack had told me somewhere along the way that if someone has "tears" tattooed on their face - that this represents the number of people they've killed or some really uhhhh, cool? thing like that <?> notsomuch... So at our second visit to Alexanders for their amazing caesar salad and the thai shrimp, to be followed by their bananas (or Buhnawnaws as The Dad mistakenly, and wished he could have it back, called them) flambe - a youngish couple sat down next to us. I didn't really notice them at first as I got us involved in a conversation with Elliott and his dad (damn, I didn't take a picture) who are from Scottsdale and had just gotten a caricature drawn of them at their table. After they walked off was when I noted that the young man at the table next to us with the drop dead gorgeous girl - well, he had two teardrops tattooed to his face. This made me pause and look to Ry and confirm what I thought they'd told me once upon a time. At this point, one of the servers at Alexanders asks the teardrop fella where he got his hat. I didn't listen to what Teardrop Guy said as I was now noticing that he had tattoos' all over, BUT... had taken steps to dress so that they were not showing. The ones I saw were on his neck and I could see the tops of his hands and knuckles. It was easy to tell that he is COVERED with them but I found myself respecting that, while the hat looked silly, she was dressed in one of those long dresses, was fashionable, stunning - actually and he HAD taken measures to cover up to eat at Alexanders. I'm not going to apologize for semi-respecting this gang-sorta-looking fella.
Soooo.... what did I do?
I asked him what his hat said. (Douche The Destroyer). Soooo then what?
ME: "Soo... that deoesn't seem like a super flattering thing to have on your hat."
Beautiful Girl: Turns to me and nods emphatically... "No. It's not."
The Dad: <kicking me under the table. Tapping on my arm> (Most of which I never noticed.)
Biker Dude: "Yea. I know."
ME: "Well, so... why?"
The Dad: <more nudging>
Biker Dude: "It's the name of our motorcycle club. Well, Douche LaRouche."
ME: <now seeing Jax Teller in my new, very own, motorcycle club friend> "Huh. Cool."
Biker Dude: "We have a website. Check it out."
The Dad: <quietly> honey... honey... shhh... honey...
As we paid our tab and started to head out, the gal drawing the caricatures that had drawn Elliott and his dad, then Ry & Suz, then The Dad and I... was now drawing Jax & His Girl. I looked on as she drew and she was drawing a little baby bump so I looked at the artist puzzled and she nodded towards me. I looked at her as if to say "Are you sure?" Because you KNOW what happens if you ASK someone when they are due and they are. not. pregnant? Well - I thought it would be in especially BAD FORM to draw my new friends girl, pregnant, if she was NOT in fact. At this point, the gorgeous girl touches my arm and nods and I tell them "Congratulations." All the while, The Dad is tugging at my hand to walk on.
At our table next to my new friends.
Big scaredy cat.
We've only got so much time here... I'm going to talk to anyone I want to while I'm here. So there. Even if his motorcycle club is called Douche LaRouche MC.
I'm already ready to go back... and am actually... starting the planning process for a second trip in 2013.
So y'all know the story. The Dad worked for a company. The DH Boss sold the company. The Dad and a few other, loyal execs lost their jobs. The Dad spent several months looking for jobs. The Dad takes a contracted position, we pay taxes, get no benefits - because you do what you have to do. Right? The Dad gets 3 job offers in a matter of 5 hours, and while one was stable, had benefits, knew some people... he chose to be a contractor again for a company that is responsible for getting the right people for so very many positions within the Providence (hospital/medical) group, among others. The kicker here was that the company placing him there pays taxes, and we were able to get family benefits through them. Decent benefits - though we pay decently, too. The contract was originally for 10 months, then bumped to 16 months and along the way, his knowledge, demeanor and work got him bumped to several other projects to manage. The wage is very good... but...
But here we are, planning vacations, lake time, graduation festivities, hoopfest, Mariners' games... and he has no vacation "time". Sure, he can take it, but it's unpaid. No PTO when you're a contractor. No life insurance. No retirement match. It's good $$. But... well... you know.
So the people he works with at Providence kept telling him to apply for this position, for that position and he did, and he interviewed, and he did not get the jobs.
Another one popped up, that he found - versus having been told about it by the regular Providence employees he currently project manages with - and he gave it another whirl. He was flown to Seattle to meet with people he's actually met before (most of them) and felt good about his "audition." The 6 member panel was interviewing all week long for 9 different positions... Oye. He was told they'd make a decision "in a few weeks."
So they made their decision and he was offered the position. We then had to go to task to make sure it was going to be feasible - all things considered. Right now, we pay 4 figures for benefits. With the slight decrease in salary (contractors are paid more for obvious reasons) - well that was do-able. But if benefits were going to cost close to or the same, well that might have made it a deal breaker, sadly... and The Dad would have kept looking.
But he struck the lottery on benes. We are still responsible for a monthly amount, but it's minute and covers just about everything under the sun. Like... everything. It's like getting a raise on your first day. But... speaking of sun... I've got much to do before we head to the sun... granted The Can is going to get 6 very nice, very unseasonably warm days... The Can can't offer me the soothing sound of crashing waves, margaritas, soft sand between my toes and mucho guacamole y margaritas!
So happy for The Dad. It's been a heckuva year. From Vice Prez, to Suzy Homemaker, to Jeff the Contractor, to IS Applications Supervisor to Cali, Idaho, Wash, Oregon & Montana Providence Health. All in a years' time. Good things come to those who wait.
I went through my youth always conceding to whatever my friend or group of friends wanted to do. I liked to make people laugh and just have fun, be included.
There was a point when I started standing up for myself and what was right for me or my family. I remember that exact *moment* that it happened. Where a friend decided to change the plan - on a moments notice. She wasn't married, didn't have kids - and I did. It was there and then that I backed the original plan, said if she didn't like it, that's fine - that I'd played by her rules for far too long and if she didn't like it, sobeit. My family and I were sticking to what we (she and I) had PLANNED on... together. She was dumbfounded. I had never stood up for myself like that (other than to The Dad...) and I wasn't backing down. She still chose the other plan because it was more exciting or "the cool" thing to do. "Go do it." I said. And I closed that door until I was ready to open it.
We lost touch for some time after that. It was about 5 years later when I tracked her down, now married and with a new baby. I had missed out on those moments, it made me sad. Still though, I don't have any regret for standing up for myself. For what was right for me and my family.
I had to stand up for my family again recently and the persons with whom I did that to, weren't pleased. There are people out there (A's) that just expect that people (B's) that have always done what the A's wanted them to do - would just do it. So when a B person stands up for themselves against an A, there's usually some sort of fallout, argument, disagreement... something. A's are used to ALWAYS getting their way. You know when they don't. Everyone knows when they don't.
Now in the case from 15 years ago - that friend ended up back east with no one I knew or even any friendships here maintained - so there was no simple minded, immature talking behind the back, snarking about this or that. There was no Bookface or texting - it would have been more work to try and make "digs" at a person. So for us - it was just out of sight, out of mind and more growing up between the two of us.
We were recently told about a new development with this most recent dynamic and The Dad was sad. Then irked. Then pissed. I just looked at him and shrugged. "Things change." I tell him. "Doesn't make it less sad." says he.
No. It doesn't. He's right.
My mother - with all of her infinite wisdom - would always tell me when my feelings were hurt - to "just let it go." I never did. My heart would hurt and when things were unjust I just never understood why people would hold their tongues. So before I learned to stand up - I learned to insert foot into mouth a lot. Now though - in my opinion, I was doing the right thing. I didn't, and sometimes still don't care if it upsets the other party because if we aren't standing up for ourselves or at least telling the other person why we disagree, or are hurt by what they've said or done - then we are failing ourselves. Hurting ourselves more than perhaps, what the other person has done.
Our son made a spring team a few years back, which a friends son was not asked to be on. Those friends stopped our "friendship" cold turkey without so much as a word - as though we had something to do with it. We were simply stunned. There weren't even any words or conversations about how that had transpired. We only really found out as they spewed venom to people we know who in turn would tell us and it was... insanely immature and hurtful. It's 5 years later and we are able to stop and talk every now and then. It will never be what it was. It was sad. We learned things from it.
I guess someone thinks we've learned enough, lived enough from two different scenarios - moved on from two different scenarios - that it's time for one more. You don't think it will ever sting as bad as the last. But it does. And it's just as sad as the last time, only with different circumstances.
I told The Dad the other day - looking ahead - the positives, and there are some. I guess I must be all growed up, or getting there - because the first two times around I let it consume me, forget about seeing something positive out of it - are you high?!?!?! - and as I started to mow the backyard the other day, thinking about a Bookface post The Dad had seen - I could have easily spent the time and extra internal energy thinking about it, what I could say or do to make the party feel the same hurt and realized after I mowed the lawn - that while those were my first thoughts heading down the first run, they weren't the second, third or last thoughts.
I did it mom. I found a way to just let it go. Sadly, there's a part of me (and I think The Dad thinks this of me) that feels like letting go means I don't care. Maybe that's partially true. I've cared and cared and cared and wanted and opened myself up to lots of disappointment and spoken up about it, which is okay for some to do, but not others (this would apply to me) - only to be disappointed. So like mom always used to say: "What good is saying anything going to do?"
I never listened. I tried... but my heart and what's "right" always got in the way.
So if letting it go looks like I don't care - I think that's a good thing. For me. Every person is different and how actions and words affect them - different. What is easy for some to let go of may be the hardest thing for another. It's just human nature.
We, as a people, shouldn't expect to have it "MY way" every time. We want it our way, sure, but we have to anticipate or make allowance for the people in our lives and do the best we can. We all have to make some concessions and yes, some make them more than others. It's up to each person to find a balance so they are not always the one doing what others want them to do. Sometimes though, when you go your own way, versus following the others, you're bound to lose.
The Dad has memories of his lawn as a kid at his parents home and how short his dad mowed the lawn. So The Dad wants OUR lawn to be cut like that. But - we don't have a great yard. The previous owners didn't put much into their landscaping. They put much time or she did, into her garden (which we quickly got rid of from our back yard) - but it's wildly apparent when you walk across our front our back yard that grass seed was tossed down onto rocky dirt. No sand, no smoothing prior to laying sod. It CAN look rather decent when we spend oodles of moo-lah to have Senske come in and spray it, treat it and then leave their little flag in our yard. But thus far this year we haven't done that - but need to. Desperately.
So in the meantime, The Dad has gone out and mowed twice this year. And he's mowed it short enough that when it doesn't precipitate and the sun shines just a skoche - the grass looks dead. Brown. Not entirely to WOTY's liking. At all. I should say though, it's green wherever Jack, Dan & Boone relieve themselves. So there's that. I'm just not sure how I can get them to pee where the lawn NEEDS them to pee.
So we argue about it - and like Wack, Blue Eyes, Kelly the lawnmower service guy, Jim E have said before - the "longer" grass holds the moisture better. Somehow - though a plethora of people have STATED as much to him, The Dad forgets this. Actually, I think he chooses to forget this because he so loves the short grass. The look of a fairway on the golf course.
Ya. A DEAD fairway.
So today - I mowed. There was no threat of snow today (which there can be in May and June in The Can) and I awoke with a bit of a headache so thought bouncing around at the gym wasn't in my best interests. But then, come to find out - the smell of gas, exhaust and pushing that machine for an hour up and down the yard weren't the best for it either. I raised the blade up a skoche and mowed - my favorite summer chore.
I think The Dad doesn't like it that I mow for two reasons: 1) He thinks I don't cut it short enough, and 2) He doesn't like it when I tell people that I mow the backyard.
Reason #78 why I'm not looking for a new job until after the summer months are over.
