Sunday, January 29, 2006

Wherein my husband calls me a blog terrorist

Yes. My own husband. He accused me of being a Blog Terrorist when I took way too many pictures of him this weekend. And you know what. He's right. I am. And because I am, I will share with you all the things I terrorized this weekend.

Friday afternoon we had Cub Scouts. The meeting covered knot tying. Luckily, seven really tired boys had five willing grown ups, myself included, on hand to help them learn square knot (something I've never been able to do before but totally get now) double half hitch, bowline, slip knot and something else that I couldn't do and forget the name of, but I'll figure it out and own it the way I do the other four.

I am now officially the self-appointed queen of the bowline. I can tie that bastard with my eyes closed. I'm not sure all the boys totally understand the knots, but heck, I earned my ass a belt hoop, I tell you WHAT! Kickass. Yeah.

Feeling incredibly proud of my achievement, that night I went to sleep and dreamed of camping... complete with a site tarped up with carabiners, bowlines and all kinds of happy crap.

Saturday we got up early, I went over to Cateringman's to help with this data entry project he has. They bought some software last year to manage all of their recipes, orderings, bookings, appointments etc... it is cumbersome and mind boggling. It makes my head explode, so you can imagine how the Cateringmen feel. Sam said to me "What you did in two hours took me nine months to almost figure out." I'm going back on Tuesday night to conference call the software guy and ask what the heck happens when you fall into a hole in his program and can't get out. From a user interface standpoint -- his kung fu sucks. But. Cateringman owns it, paid for it, and now we have to make it work ... that and he made me breakfast which was awfully sweet. The perks of working for Cateringman.

EP dogbar wide shot lighthouseI got home and we immediately readied up to go to Gloucester to geocache. I think we found three of the five, knowing that one of them was definitely NOT going to be found. It's been missing since April of last year. But we wanted to go to the location where it was hidden initially, and it was well worth the trip.

We went to the last cache we did and all of a sudden I saw it -- a visual anomaly. Frosted glass in my field of vision.

Long time readers know what that means. There was a meteor coming my way. In the form of a migraine. I told Doug that after this find, we'd have to go home because I didn't feel I would make it through another one. I was right. We had a great time finding our last find, and it was a tremendous and beautiful place, but the headache started to own me, and we rushed home, got my medication into me and tucked me into bed. I slept for about two hours, felt alright enough to get up and eat something, and I was back fast asleep by 9pm.

The migraine could have resulted in my entire weekend being ruined, but for some reason this morning I woke up feeling alright, instead of feeling like I had a hang over. Which was a total relief, because it was Burn Stuff Day here at our house.

Remember a few weeks ago when we got the bedroom set? Well. A lot of our old furniture is simply unusable, ungiveaway-able. It's just broken, old and nasty. So we decided to get rid of it via the scourge of Prometheus -- fire. Doug went out and started a small fire and put all of my old bureau drawers on top of it. Within seconds the fire was 15 feet high, flames shooting out all over the place. He then brought out the body of the bureau and threw it on, flames then went shooting out the back kind of like a bizarre furnace.

His bureau then followed, with drawers. And then we went into the basement to find more stuff to burn. "I'm in a burning mood!" he said, and we found some old broken chairs, some wooden crates, Clayton's broken futon frame, an old bureau that we'd gotten out of surplus in college back before we were married -- it all went on the fire.

And I found one of those Lisa Simpson chairs, the kneely sitty things which are supposed to be good for your back but leave most humans crippled for life. Doug got it from a hall director in college when he was throwing it out. I used it when I was pregnant with Jess. It's been in the basement since the day we moved in here. I brought it out to put on the fire... and he tried to STOP! me. How DARE he.

"I want to keep that! I sat in it just now, it's really comfortable!"

The cloth was all ripped on the corners and the thing looked as if it would snap in half the second he sat upon it, not because of its weight but because it was all dried out and brittle.

I won the argument. He put it on the fire. And boy did that bad boy burn. Holy cow.

While we were burning all these old things, in my mind I was realizing that house fires burn so fast and so dangerously because of old nasty assed furniture that is brittle and dried out. I was glad to get the bulk of this stuff out of the basement, and was tempted to go through the basement and get every last stitch of old wooden garbagey crap out of there, but we'll need something for the next big fire. When we need to torch Geoff's old loveseat.

The coup de grace of the whole thing was when Doug went in the house and got this nasty old armchair that had been in the corner of our room for 10 years. When we were first married, Doug had made friends with the guy who fills the vending machine at the college. Doug was a public safety officer, and would have to let this guy in at like 4am to do his job. So they got to know one another, and after several months the guy said "Hey, I'm moving back to (insert native country name here) and I need to get rid of all my furniture Would you like to buy it?" Seeing as we had one couch, which we'd gotten from the side of the road in Beverly, Doug agreed to his price of like $500. The guy brought it over. It was horrid, but it was better than the one couch we had.

And we still have some of the pieces in the house here, even though I've made several attempts to purge them from our lives. So to see Doug finally part with this chair really made me happy. I wanted the loveseat (which is in Geoff's room, and he doesn't sit in it, he piles all his stuff on it, and it is taking up valuable play place real estate in there and contributing NOTHING to his life...) but Doug isn't ready to part with that.

28 Doug celebrates his country heritage I took a million pictures, because they were fascinating and scary all at once. And Doug decided to channel his inner Western Pennsylvanian and got out a bottle of Jim Beam to pose with, thus making for some comedy photo gold, seen here. Our neighbors came over to visit and hang by the fire, so I got some nice shots of 2/3rds of their girls, and there was some ATV ridin' goin' on, and Jack went airborne for some snowballs. All told, I am a blog terrorist, and that's everything that happened.

I need to get a move on. We have a lawyer coming tomorrow to sign papers for our refinance. Seems we do it every year. And the house is a wreck. But at least all the old crap is out of the middle of the living room, and I can mop the floors and accomplish something. Hallelujah.

Hope all y'all had a good weekend.

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