ATTACKED AT 4:00 A.M.

4:00 a.m.
The only light is the cold white glare of the computer screen
The only sound is the wishy washy whir of the washing machine behind me

UNTIL…(dun dun dunnnnn)

4:05 a.m.
The only light is the cold, white glare of the computer screen
The only sounds are the wishy washy whir of the washing machine, no longer behind but beneath me, as my (thankfully) wheeled computer chair shoots backwards, hits the machine, becomes the launch pad from which I launch myself on top of the machine, to make my none-so-quiet, highly unnatural, most un-ladylike, slightly animalistic, noises, after some sort of CREATURE landed on my nose, scaring the ever loving CRAP outta me, thereby causing a coffee-flood all over my computer desk, before I high-tailed it out of the laundry slash computer slash Ms. Sadie’s room, but not before turning on the glaring over-head light, so that I may (when brave enough to return) investigate this attacking, murderous, intruder and…DISPOSE of it!

4:30 a.m. (do not judge me…it took me a minute ok?)
The only lights are the cold, white glare of the computer screen and the 100 watt glare of the over-head florescent
The only sounds are the gurgling of the draining washing machine in front of me and the slightly judgmental, ticklishly child-like snickering (or so I imagined) quips coming out of Ms Sadie’s crate, and the squeaky, decidedly un-stealthlike, flap of my flip flops on the linoleum as I re-entered the war zone, having donned said shoes and my armor of well-worn sweater
To find………to find………to find……….what the hell…..to find……OH, there it is….at the bottom of my (spilled) coffee cup

A FUCKING LADY BUG!

REALLY?

A SCREAMING MEEMEE, CRAZY-ASS, SISSY-WOMAN OVER A LADY BUG?

5:00 a.m.
The only lights are the cold, white glare of the computer screen and the new, strategically placed, table lamp (10 feet away from the computer table)
The only sounds are the gurgles and whirring of the spinning washing machine and the slowly lessening, yet still slightly deafening, beating of my heart, as my flippy flops flap back to the kitchen to make myself a new cup o Joe

Sans Lady Bug

Go back to sleep Sadie (traitor)

Good Morning World

Now…EFF OFF!

Shades of Gray

I thought I’d be clever

When naming my blog

50 Shades was trending

With its wanking and snogs

I know it’s not porno

This little blog of mine

But it can get racey

When I’m into my wine

So when a day does come

That I can spend all in Gray

I feel I must share it

In my own special way

So I hope you enjoy it

These little snappy spurts

50 Shades of Gray(tone)

Trust me…it won’t hurt

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Should We Stay or Should We Go🎶🎶🎶

Okay.  So, I know it’s been a day or two since my last post 😉 and I wasn’t actually planning a post today ‘cuz it’s crazy busy for us right now, but…who the hell could resist?

Not I.

You all know how much I like a good ‘saga’  😂 😭 😓

Especially about cars.  Or moving.  Or houses.  Or other Shit-N-Stuff.

Right?

So…after all the blood, sweat, and tears, we shed before, during, and after, moving into our current home, we are considering selling.

Yup…2 years, 6 months in, picking up and moving again is actually being considered.

Nutz! 😵   Looney!  😱   Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs! 🐒

Why?

Two reasons really.

The first, to be closer to my recently transplanted Mom, who is, apparently, one of those lucky people I’ve heard about when it comes to adventures in moving.  Her pack and move went smoothly.  Her house behaved when she moved in and didn’t reach out and break her leg or rain down through her light fixtures from the floor above.

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Remember my crying lights?

She has made a beautiful home for herself…and is quite content to remain where she is.  But, we are finding that even a mere 20 minute/10 mile distance, is 15 minutes too far!

{Hmmm, note to self…A Drive Too Far…Book?  Movie?  Copyright infringement?  Carry on self…}

The second, as important as the first, is because our beautiful Ms. Sadie needs a place to safely run and play in her own backyard, and we cannot give that to her.

Why?

Because we cannot fence it in 😲

Why?

Bureaucratic Bullshit 🚧

We have a gorgeous back yard…

Northfield in the fall

What…don’t believe that’s mine?

What—everrrrrrrrrrrr  👀

Forget the mountains then.

Oh for Pete’s sake…take out the barn if it bothers ya!

Okay Okay (ya picky bitches), take out the fence, the trees, the other barn, and the rolling field in the background and you’ve got my yard.

Happy?

Anyhoo….because Virginia’s disclosure laws are a  j o k e, not one of the half dozen professionals involved in buying real estate, not to mention the previous owner, felt it necessary to inform us that this lot is one of the highest impacted lots in the neighborhood, rendering our little slice of Eden…all but USELESS.

Why?

There is a 60′ (yes, that is SIXTY) gas company easement from the back of the property towards the house and runs the entire width of the tad over a 1/3 acre lot.  From our way of thinking, that should have been mentioned by SOMEONE in the 2 month buying/closing process yeah?

Yeah……….No!

Add to that 60′ another 20′ for the build line which runs from the structure towards the back of the yard, making the total depth/width of what we cannot add to, plant on, or change in a way that would impede….a whopping 80′.

EIGHTY #$#$%#$ FEET  😖 😭 😕

Even though the gas company could work with us on a fee based waiver, they won’t.

But Wait!  There’s More  (oh goody)

There are also easements from the county that cannot be waivered.

One is a 16′ drainage easement, running back to front, the entire length of the property, but it’s on the side property line, so we didn’t give that one much thought.  At the time.  Not until we had to.  And we had to when we wanted to put a storage shed out there.  On the side.  Away from the gas easement.  Ya know, close to the garage and stuff.

Ummmm….Not gonna happen  🚫

Then {and I chuckle here} there is that all too common, everybody else must have one…FLOOD DAM FAULT LINE!  OR FAULT DAM FLOOD LINE!  OR DAM FLOOD FAULT LINE!  OR SOME DAMNED LINE GOING DIAGONALLY THROUGH THE ENTIRE BACK YARD!!

You got one, right?  And you?  And you, and you?  And you over there?  Everybody?  ‘Cause I’m thinking it’s so damned prolific as to be down right common-place.  Like we all got grass so why point out the grass?  Ain’t that why I’ve never heard of this effin’ thing?  Ain’t it?

What the hell is happening?????????????  😱

The only friggin floods that I have ever heard of around here….were inside my damned house and that fault line didn’t help one daggone bit!!  (el squat-o)

Did I say this made me chuckle?

I lied  😫

Of course, we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think we’d get a decent enough return to buy another.  The market is good right now, the rates are still low, people may be looking to get into a place before the next school year….all good things right?

So I ask you…

🎶 Should we stay or should we go 🎶

(sorry, I can’t help singing it…lol)

Oh geez…after all that, I forgot to mention why I even began this post.  While we muse over the possibility of listing (we’re about 98% there to be honest), we figured we’d do what we always do in this situation…invest more blood, sweat, and tears, not to mention 💰, into getting our imperfect 🏠 perfect so the next 👸 of the newly perfected 🏰 won’t have to lift a friggin’ finger or spend an effn’ dime!

‘Cause that’s how we role…we Hernandezeseses (Hernadezi?)

We buy, we fix, we do……..and we move.  So we can then…buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty, sell to others who don’t have to do a damned thing…just so we can buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty….blah de blah de blah!

In that vein…
We have had the fireplace that hasn’t worked since the day after we moved in, fixed.
We had the Jacuzzi tub’s leaky-ass faucets that we haven’t touched since the first time we went to use it and didn’t because it leaked, repaired.
We’re giving our wood floors a facelift so they don’t offend the next matriarch with their little Sadie scratches.
We’re resurfacing our pinkish, post-form, laminate countertops that somehow were good enough for me, but certainly will put off today’s savvy buyers looking for the trendier granite because ‘It’s so shiiiiny’.

And I’ve saved the best for last…

and the hardest for me…

the die-hard DIY’er:

Hiring someone to do what I do, and do well is tough. But time, old shoulders, bad, up close & personal, eyesight, added to my increased lack o’ patience, has dictated that this time around…we must bite the proverbial and hire a pro.

You all know me and my history with hiring professionals.

Though you know I pride myself in doing my due diligence, you also know it has gotten my leg broken, my house flooded, my toothbrush packed with the toilet brush, and my car dying at 70 MPH on Interstate 91 in New Haven.

Shall we agree that you know this Wonder Woman of Wacky Workmen?

Okay then…we’re off.

We hired a ‘Pro” to paint the interior of our 4BR, 3BA home, top to bottom, head to toe, and everything in between.  The references were stellar. The estimate reasonable. The time frame – 7 days. Perfect.

That should have been my first clue!

When. Will. I. Learn?

Nothing is perfect, nor apparently, what it seems!

I’m getting ahead of myself…let’s see.  To be pro-active, we removed all wall décor, switch plates, outlet covers, electronics, all items in/on/around furniture, packed everything in boxes, moved all furniture to middle of rooms to be covered, placed all non-necessary furnishings, boxes, small items, etc., in the garage, took up all rugs, and basically had the house ‘paint-ready’ for the start date.  Oh, and we moved into my mother’s to give them free reign to only have to cover stuff once and not worry about finishing one room at a time.  The house was theirs.  They had to do nothing but cover, patch, sand, and paint.

Two painters began on Monday the 6th.  The owner’s son who is taking over the business, and his side kick with 25 years under his belt, cut-in and first coat, guy.

Come Saturday, the 11th, one was left and the other one gone.  I fired the side-kick for lack of production and sloppy work.  His smoke breaks alone used half his hours and all of his work needed to be re-done.

He blamed the paint.  I blamed the painter.  I win.

Boom!  You’re outta here! 

I was told he would be replaced with a more professional side kick, but as of today, the 17th, there is still but one.

Mr Painter Man

Who I call IMA

IMA fix it – IMA gonna do it – IMA be here late tomorra – IMA sorry – IMA IMA IMA

By end of business today, there will have been a total of 11 painting days.

Know what’s done?  Hah…stop that laughing.  Wanna know?

Upstairs.

This is still my downstairs…11 days later

Know what else?

There are 3 walls upstairs that need to be redone.  But I told IMA to save that for dessert cause I needed his ass downstairs in the kitchen!  I’ve got a counter top being redone on MONDAY!!

I even returned the remaining 6 gallons of my accent color, a beautiful Crushed Oregano green, for IMA because he keeps blaming the paint…I changed my design for him!

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Does this color scare you?  It’s on my front door, which I painted, without trouble

 What the hell is wrong with me???  IMA STUPID!

Know what I’m doing right now?

😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 etc etc etc

Why bother going through all of this some might ask.  Especially when my house always looks good whether trendy or not.  Always up to date, clean, and comfy.  Homey!

Because Lord knows, today’s modern and discerning buyer would no doubt, walk into a home with red in the kitchen and yellow in the living room; green in the bathroom and a cloud painted blue sky ceiling in the bonus room, would run screaming into the street for the horror!

None of which I put on the walls but was perfectly fine with it until the day I decided to change it.

Boy oh Boy…we can’t expect someone else to think that way now can we?

Or so the real estate professionals tell me. After all, this is only the 6th house we will have sold, so how would I know anything about what sells and what doesn’t?

So…next week, it’ll be Mr. Painter-man who best have my kitchen done by tomorrow (or else ) and the counter-top crew.  That, should be an interesting day  😂

🎶 🎶 We Should’a Stayed and Let Him Go 🎶 🎶

 

From One Boomer to Another…yikes!

1966 – 2016

1966 : Long hair
2016:  Longing for hair

1966 : KEG
2016:  EKG

1966 : Acid rock
2016:  Acid reflux

1966 : Moving to  California  because it’s cool
2016:  Moving to  Arizona  because it’s warm

1966 : Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
2016:  Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor

1966 : Seeds and stems
2016:  Roughage

1966 : Hoping for a BMW
2016:  Hoping for a BM

1966 : Going to a new, hip joint
2016:  Receiving a new hip joint

1966 : Rolling Stones
2016:  Kidney Stones

1966 : Screw the system
2016:  Upgrade the system

1966 : Disco
2016:  Costco

1966 : Parents begging you to get your hair cut
2016:  Children begging you to get their heads shaved

1966 : Passing the drivers’ test
2016:  Passing the vision test

1966 : Whatever
2016 : Depends

And…just in case you weren’t feeling old enough, this will certainly change things.

Each year the staff at Beloit College in Wisconsin puts together a list to try to give the faculty a sense of the mindset of this year’s incoming freshmen.

Here’s this year’s list:

  • The people who are starting college this fall across the nation were born in 1998.
  • They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.
  • Their lifetime has always included AIDS.
  • Bottle caps have always been screw off and plastic.
  • The CD was introduced 7 years before they were born.
  • They have always had an answering machine.
  • They have always had cable.
  • They cannot fathom not having a remote control.
  • Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave.
  • They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.
  • They can’t imagine what hard contact lenses are.
  • They don’t know who Mork was or where he was from.
  • They never heard: “Where’s the Beef?”, “I’d walk a mile for a Camel”, or “de plane, Boss, de plane.”
  • They do not care who shot J. R. and have no idea who J. R. even is. Mc Donald’s never came in Styrofoam containers.
  • They don’t have a clue how to use a typewriter.

Do you feel old yet?

In the blink of an eye…

Last post was a week until…
This post is a week gone since…
In the blink of an eye it’s over
*
Last post I showed you where…
This post I’m showing you why…
In the click of a button it’s forever

*

1.)  Human Fun & Games

(Hover over photo or click on it for captions)

*

2.)  Nature Au Naturale

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“Will ya looky there Junior…them’s called bipeds. If’n it t’were huntin’ season, I’d show ya how to cook ’em real good in lots o’butter!”

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“Hey Ground Walker! Can’t you read?? You can’t park here! Just look at ’em Ralph…think they own the joint!’

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“STOP THAT I SAID!!!”

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“Good grief, can’t fly ANYWHERE around you bitches!”

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“Oooooh, look at that jet Pops!”

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“That ain’t no jet kids…that’s your cousin George”

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“Ma?  Where ya going Ma?”

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“Louise, get back here!”

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“No worries Pops…I’ll get her.”

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“Jeez Louise…can’t a fella visit his relatives?”

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“Hey Georgie…you can come visit me. I’m free as a bird tonight. Dinner?”

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“Whassat? Let me just clean my ears, thought you invited me to dinner.”

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“Well, alrighty then! I’ll just hop, skip, and a….

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…juuuuuuuump on over sweet thang!”

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Random man / bird fly by

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Random man caused fly away

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“I AM…’nuff said”

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“Oh he’s SUCH a show off!”

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“Hey…if I got it flaunt it right?”

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One…

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Two…

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Three…

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Dinner!”

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“Really? He’s this desperate? I’m BAIT not dinner!  The bird brain!!”

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heeheehee

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Heeeeey……..

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…that tickled ma belly!

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“I don’t get the whole beach thing Dorrie, do you?”

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“No, me either Handsome. Why hang out in all that sandy muck when you can lounge around with me surrounded by all this love stuff?”

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“Gee, I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve picked out the wedding bouquets? Oh Handsooooome? Wanna play Peek a Love-Dove?”

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“Handsome? Handsome? Hmmmm, I guess he noticed…that CHICKEN!”

*

3.)  Art…Is Where You Feel It

(click on a circle for captions)

*
Thanks for coming along…I do hope you enjoyed.

Next time it’s sand and surf, then worshiping the heavens

🙂

Peter Piper Pix…

Apologies to my FB friends as you’ve already seen these…but I thought my WP friends would enjoy a bit of a beach break too!


Peter Piper Patrols

Peter Piper Patrols

Peter Piper Plots

Peter Piper Plots

Peter Piper Proposes Parlay?

Peter Piper Proposes Parlay?

Peter Piper Peers Potential Pickins'

Peter Piper Peers Potential Pickins’

Peter Piper Prepares to Peck

Peter Piper Prepares to Peck

Peter Piper Pecks a Piece

Peter Piper Pecks a Piece

Peter Piper Picks the Pecked Piece

Peter Piper Picks the Pecked Piece

Peter Piper Panics

Peter Piper Panics

Peter Piper Poses

Peter Piper Poses

Peter Piper Parades

Peter Piper Parades

Peter Piper Pedals

Peter Piper Pedals

Peter Piper Pauses

Peter Piper Pauses

Peter Piper Ponders

Peter Piper Ponders

Peter Piper Proceeds

Peter Piper Proceeds

Peter Piper Pinpoints

Peter Piper Pinpoints

Peter Piper Partakes

Peter Piper Partakes

More or Less is More of Less…only MoreSo

Civilization at the end of 2015

• Our Phones – Wireless
• Cooking – Fireless
• Cars – Keyless
• Food – Fatless
• Tires –Tubeless
• Dress – Sleeveless
• Youth – Jobless
• Leaders – Shameless
• Relationships – Meaningless
• Attitudes – Careless
• Babies – Fatherless
• Feelings – Heartless
• Education – Valueless
• Children – Mannerless
• Country – Godless

We are – SPEECHLESS

Government is – CLUELESS

And our Politicians are – WORTHLESS

I am scared – Shitless!

Ain’t it just – PRICELESS?

old

Is there a Q in Creation?

Hello Hello!

And Happy New Year!

It’s been almost 3 months since I last laid fingers on this spot and quite frankly, I’m stumped as to why.  It’s not as though nothing has been going on in my life; not like I couldn’t have found something to regale you with.  But I didn’t, so there it is.  What to do, what to do?

My Quandry

It’s me and not what’s going on in my life, that is the…

queller of quills that once quivered in quickness as they quilted quality quarters in the quest of her quair; chock-full of the queenly and quintessentially queer, the quacky and quaggy and quixotically quaint.

It is me and me alone who can say…

quiescence remains in this quaffer’s quaich. What’s quashing that quorum of quarrels, quibs, and quips that querimoniously queue up in the quar of my gray- matter quag; quit of its quant?

As it is also me, the once…

quartermaster, now turned querulous quester, who is lost in quassation.  A quat, a quidam, a word-quean, bereft of her quean-dom; whose quiritation quickens toward quotidian.

Quit?

Qualify?

Quantify?

Quiver?

Quash?

Quell?

No

Hence the exercise in the little used and under appreciated

Q

A little warm up to get the juices flowing.

Maybe?

Hopefully?

For if this does not work…

I’m off to the Zees

Yikes!

Is there a Z word for HELLA-NO?

[I looked it up]

Z I P

Wish me luck  🙂

 

 

Smokin’ in the Rain

smoking in the rain

Jane and Arlene are outside their nursing home, having a drink and a smoke, when it starts to rain.

Jane pulls out a condom, cuts off the end, puts it over her cigarette, and continues smoking.

Arlene:- What in the hell is that?

Jane:- A condom. This way my cigarette doesn’t get wet.

Arlene-: Where did you get it?…

Jane:- You can get them at any pharmacy.

The next day, Arlene hobbles herself into the local pharmacy and
announces to the pharmacist that she wants a box of condoms.

The pharmacist, obviously embarrassed, looks at her kind of strangely
(she is, after all, over 80 years of age), but very delicately asks what
size, texture, brand of condom she prefers.

‘Doesn’t matter Sonny, as long as it fits on a Camel.’

The pharmacist fainted.