Interruption: Today is actually Saturday, not Sunday.
I just felt the title sounded hip and cool.
Over and out.
Today was Sweet Pea’s first soccer game.
She actually had two . . . but the second was cancelled due to the gargantuan downpour of rain.
It was certainly pleasant to sit and watch.
And now . . . if the tribal council will allow, I would like to quote Dr. Seuss . . .
The sun did not shine.
It was too wet to play.
So we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day.
(Name that book)
After the game, Sweet Pea and I were completely and utterly drenched.
So, we rushed home and changed into warm clothes, built a fire, made hot chocolate, and watched Music Man.
I dare you, nay, I double-dog dare you to come up with a more delightful flick than Music Man.
You might be wondering where the rest of the family was during this torrential downpour.
Well, they were also experiencing it over at the other soccer field for Daisy Mae’s practice.
Afterwards, The Lumberjack made those poor Lumberjacklings go to the dump (or, for you “proper folk”, the transfer station) and then they had to go get a truckload of dirt.
Yes, that’s right.
Dirt.
We lead exciting lives over here.
So, the “others” came home and interrupted our grand movie/laundry folding party and I had to get up and make some lunch while The Lumberjack and Handsome Dude left to go hook up my parent’s new hot tub.
Is there anything my man can’t do?
When my husband and third born came home, it was time to unload the dirt.
You may ask,
“Taylor. Why on earth do you need a truckload of dirt?”
And I will answer,
“Dear Reader . . . you assume that I understand anything about home improvement and that I have a clue as to what goes on in my Lumberjack’s head.”
But, I did ask my main man why he was doing such crazy things on a lovely Saturday.
You see, our front yard is shaded by three very large trees.
And in the seven years that we have lived here, we have not had a decent lawn.
Ever.
It is quite disheartening.
Quite.
So, the Lumberjack, in all his contractorly/electricianally/lumberjackishly wisdom decided to spread a fresh layer of dirt on the lawn and then reseed.
I suppose it is worth a shot.
But I will bet you one whole dollar that it won’t work.
Nevertheless, I will let him have his moment.
Can I just say that I am having an awful lot of trouble figuring out this camera?
I mean, if I cannot take a decent picture, then I ask you . . .
WHAT IS THE POINT?
Please notice, the weather has changed to quite a gorgeous day, as is the custom in our neck of the woods.
*sigh*
Adjusting focus, aperture, shutter speed, tunnel length, megabytes, uploading, flash on, flash off . . .
Victory!
So, after I folded yet another load of laundry, I decided I would meander out there and see if I could be of any assistance.
But first, I would be requiring a cup of coffee.
Finally, I ventured out there and asked him if I should help out by raking.
LJ: Nope. I got it.
Fact: This means that he knows I will mess it up.
Fact: I find this character trait to be annoying in my husband.
Me: Well, give me a job.
LJ: You can fill the wheelbarrow with dirt.
Sounds simple enough.
So, I get to join Handsome Dude in the truck and load the wheelbarrow.
Now, you haven’t lived until you have stood in the back of a truck full of dirt, loaded dirt into a wheelbarrow, and tried to dodge your son’s shovel as he nearly violated you upon several occasions.
Handsome Dude was pretty cute throughout the whole process.
He informed me that “Daddy’s truck was berry dirty” about 25 times.
Get it?
Dirt?
Dirty?
Oh, Handsome Dude. You are a hoot.
Fact: The Lumberjack, being in the “general contractor” mood that he was in, decided that I was not doing a good enough job.
A-nnoying.
He would not even think of taking the wheelbarrow unless it was heaping full.
So, if I had not moved quickly enough, he would hop in the truck, push right past me, and show me how it’s done.
A-nnoying.
Me: Dude. Go spread the dirt.
LJ: But, hon. The wheelbarrow isn’t full.
Me: Does it matter that it is only 2/3rd full? Really?
LJ: To me it does.
Me: Go spread the dirt.
LJ: When the wheelbarrow is full.
A-nnoying.
Not that I would ever be annoyed at my main man.
Dear Lumberjack,
It is time we accepted it.
I will never be your Wendy.
(Name that TV show)
***
And now, I would like to offer up Reason #437 why my husband needs a back 40:
Yes, those are, in fact, my daughters standing on the 4-wheeler, next to the playhouse, next to my husband’s work vehicle!
***
Reason #9, 834, 413 why one should not wear socks with sandals:
Particularly when haulin’ dirt around.
Reason #789 why I am a terrible photographer:
I focused in on the wrong stud.
Ha!
*chuckle, chuckle*
That was a little “contractor humor” for y’all.
***
So, the Lumberjack primed and painted and went to Home Depot . . .
then he primed some more . . .
and forgot more stuff and drove back to Home Depot . . .
then he painted.
I took the Lumberjacklings on a walk, as I was finding all this manual labor to be a bit of a bore.
We came home and had dinner.
We feasted on a delicious dinner of baked chicken, baked potatoes, and green beans.
Low cholesterol and everything.
Got to watch those things now . . . I am nearly 30 afterall.
Then, dear readers, the most exciting thing happened . . .
It was bedtime!
For the children, of course.
Ha!
Do you think The Lumberjack and I would get to go to bed?
Silly, readers!
It was only 8pm.
Plenty of time to install our new laundry room floor.
I was quite devastated when The Lumberjack accepted my offer of help.
Not that I don’t want to help.
I just don’t know how to help.
I mean, really.
Who knows how to install a floor?
I can make lasagna.
I can clean a toilet.
I can even change a diaper, while instructing children on how to pack their backpacks, while talking on the phone, while brushing my own teeth.
But installing floors?
No.
LJ: Ok, it is really important that you get all the lines straight or you will ruin the whole floor.
Me: Are you sure you want me on this particular job? Shall I just bring you some ice water?
LJ: You will be fine.
Me: Whatever you say.
So, I am installing . . . like a pro, I might add, and I notice that some of my tile-y thing-a-ma-jibbers have slight gaps in them.
Me: Um . . . oops?
LJ: What?
Me: Did I mess it up?
LJ: Well, just keep going.
Me: But did I mess it up?
LJ: It’s been laid.
And I would just like to state for the record that My Lumberjack, the General Contractor himself, made the biggest mistake on the tiley-thing-a-ma-bobs.
Thankyouverymuch.
Happy Weekend!
PS-AFTER 7 YEARS, I, YES I, TAYLOR MAL-I-BLAH-BLAH, AM GETTING A BONA FIDE LAUNDRY ROOM FLOOR.
HOLLA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The End.
Five Things
1) Daisy Mae and Sweet Pea have joined their first soccer teams.
Would you like to hear something super convenient?
Daisy Mae’s Soccer Schedule:
Games: 4:30 and 5:20 on Thursdays at Field A
Practices: Saturday mornings at 9am at Field B
Sweet Pea’s Schedule:
Practices: Thursdays 5pm at Field B
Games: Saturdays 9 and 10am at Field A
Daisy Mae had her very first game last night.
And her own cheering squad.
Pssst! Daisy Mae!
Don’t lay back on the goal!
Daisy Mae!
Pay attention to where the ball is!
Focus, Daisy Mae!
Focus!
What?!
A ball got past you?
How on earth could that be?
And now, dear readers, I would like to present to you:
Why children who are in kindergarten should not play soccer:
1) They don’t get it.
2) They don’t know which direction the ball should go.
3) When they other team scores, the defeated team claps along with the proud parents, simply because, again, they do not know what is going on.
4) Thrice I saw the goalie leave his/her post to try to make a goal.
Thrice.
5) They don’t get it.
6) Once I saw a boy from the sidelines join in on the soccer fun. No matter how many times coach called him back, he kept playing.
Why?
7) Because kindergarteners just don’t get it.
But, alas.
They are stinkin’ cute to watch.
2) My laundry room is still not finished.
But that is neither here nor there.
3) It’s time for . . .
The Comment of the Week!
This week’s winner goes to Kendra with her made-up term of what she refers to as Buns of Steel.
She said, and I quote,
“We refer to Buns of Steel as the “Hus-buns” in my world.”
So, there you have it.
The only thing slightly disturbing about this comment, on my end, is that I was referring to Jason’s Buns of Steel.
Remember Jason?
Attention all: I only said he had Buns of Steel because his Buns shattered my window.
I do not technically know, nor do I care to know any more about my brother-in-law’s hindquarters.
Thank you.
On a different note, yes, The Lumberjack definitely has Hus-Buns.
Go say hi to Kendra . . . she is always full of recipe deliciousness.
4) I must take Handsome Dude to the eye glasses place next week to pick out new frames.
Please pray that the Lord will guide me to the most indestructible, and of course handsome, pair.
Thank you.
5) It has come to my attention that I have high cholesterol.
Could it be because I am too chub?
Maybe it is because I pretend to be on Weight Watchers?
Perhaps it is because I only exercise every third Tuesday?
Or maybe . . . just maybe . . . it is just genetic.
Yes!
I will go with the last reason.
But, nevertheless, I must go on a low cholesterol diet.
Which means, I need to cut way back on beef.
Um . . . hello?
What am I supposed to do with all this beef then?
Hmmm . . . a quandary.
So, I need to cook more chicken, fish, and meatless entrees.
And I am going to be completely honest.
I won’t eat fish.
Why anyone would eat fish is beyond me.
So, dear readers, if you have any splendid chicken or meatless recipes you would like to share, please do.
Any thoughts would be warmly accepted.
And no cheese, people!
I must stay away from cheese, too.
What is the world coming to?
That is all.
Have a fantabulous weekend!