BigB's Breastfed Lawn

BigB believes in yard upkeep.  He's out there daily, enthusiastically tugging weeds, watering the grass, spraying things, cropping things, and so on.  BigB  thinks there is not enough  time in the day to get his lawn as pristine as he wants it.  This may be true, but still, BigB's work shows. We have beautiful  flowers, plants, shrubs, and a thick,  luxurious expanse of green with a sharp edge.   And don't get him started....admire one petite bloom and he will escort you around the house pointing out things  you never wanted to know, like, "these blah blah blahs are growing some kind of fungus but I'm spraying them with this organic bludie blupe and I think that will  get rid of it, but these blipety blips over here are attracting little black bugs.  See them?  See the little black  bugs?....

If I were in charge of the lawn, I would be more likely to point out (from a comfortable spot in the middle of my  hammock) a beautiful sea of dandelions waving in the wind and not requiring any upkeep.  My lack of enthusiasm for lawn care is not lost on BigB.  He toils away with little expectation of admiration or support from me.  On occasion, I have referred to our yard as "BigB's Breastfed Lawn".  

Yesterday, I got my comeuppance. 

Littleb and I were walking the neighborhood when we spotted the most beautiful lawn ever.  Even I couldn't help but notice it's thick carpet-like appearance.  It looked like an enchanted lawn from a Disney movie.  A lawn under a wicked spell that seduces you into lying down and stretching out just before it swallows you whole and spits you back out as a red, red rose.  It had perfectly straight lines where it had been recently mowed.  Or vacuumed, perhaps.  Littleb immediately plopped down and made him self comfortable.  In an effort to get him moving again, lest he be turned into a rose bush, I said, "Hey, let's go home and tell Dad we found a nicer lawn than his."

You would  think I had invited him to clean out BigB's savings account and hop a plane to Switzerland.  

"You can't do that!  That would hurt his feelings!  You don't want to hurt your husband's feelings, do you?  We are not telling him about this lawn."

He's a loyal son, that boy.  I'm so proud of him.  For now, we'll keep the enchanted lawn a secret, but it's nice to know it's there.....(twists ends of waxed  mustache and emits evil laugh).

Chicken out

I Had To Break Up With My Old Lady...

While the restaurant cashier is making small talk, as I wait for the other counter ladies to stop eating the food I just brought back for inexplicable reasons, and pack  me some new food, we somehow get on the subject of Sons of Anarchy, and how it just aired its last episode.  I tell the cashier how sad I was to see it end, and how emotional I got.  And then I get teary-eyed right there in the restaurant.  I can see that the clerk, who  is just making small talk, after all, is inwardly rolling her eyes, and why shouldn't she?  Who is this crazy, middle-aged woman, crying in her restaurant about a biker show.

Then  I woke up, without my Chicken Parmesan, but with my dignity, at least.

Truth is, I did just finish season 5 of  Sons, and I am quite fond of Gemma Teller Morrow, but I'm not sure I'll even watch season 6 because the show is just so dang violent that I spend more time shielding my eyes from torture scenes and machine gun spray than I do watching.  I think Gemma and I have parted ways for good and my subconscious knew it before I did.  Good-bye Gemma.  You were the best pretend Old Lady a girl could have. Sniffle.

Chicken out

Disclaimer:  You get that this was a dream, right?  About a show I like?  I have no idea how many actual SOA seasons there are, nor do I have an insider's track on when the show will end.  Don't quote me to the Enquirer, okay?

Gemma Teller Morrow (Katey Sagal)

Vacation

In a few weeks we'll be heading to Maine for vacation .  We've rented a house in the Camden area.   I know the area a little, having grown up just a couple of hours away, but if anyone out there has a favorite memory of the place or a suggestion for an activity, we would love to hear it.

The house we are renting is big-big enough that several extended family members and friends are planning on cycling through during the week.  It's an experiment for us.  If it goes well, we are hoping to do it once a year.  If it doesn't, we'll do our own thing from now on.  We are not anti-social, by any means,  but my husband and I are alike in that we both require a moderate amount of alone time.   I get mine by  getting up earlier in the morning.   He gets his by  staying up later at night.  I'm  wondering how the chaos of people coming and going will jive with our expectation of  a relaxing week on the coast.

On the one hand, we've co-imagined clam bakes on the beach, early morning kayak trips, and hanging out on the porch with our friends and family.  My imagination has added the sound track from Big Chill and midnight margarita parties.

On the other hand, it's occurred to me that there's a good amount of work that goes into entertaining people. Now, switch out the people on a regular basis, and haven't you just multiplied the work load?  This is not something that would occur to BigB because, as a traditionalist in his mid-fifties, his expectation is that the women will get together and figure it all out and tell him what needs to go on the grill.  Planning, shopping, and cleaning don't figure in his day-to-day plans.  On the odd occasion where they do, it goes something like this:

I'm hungry.  Is anybody else hungry?  I think I'll order a pizza.  Does anybody else want pizza?

BigB keeps it real.  I think I'll take a page out of his book this year and just go with the flow.  We'll see what happens.