....walnuts and prunes

Sunday we pruned the black walnut tree in my yard. It was long overdue to be pruned, technically long overdue to be killed. It created shade where I did not want shade, it randomly threw walnuts at me, and worse than that it grew at such an alarming rate that I feared being ravaged by the branches with every windstorm. (ok so maybe ravaged is a bit strong, but allow me literary license here) I bought a tree pruner some years ago,  giddy with anticipation of this day. It is basically a saw attached to a stick and a rope. You pull the rope the saw….saws. When my son pruned little trees around the yard it cut effortlessly. When my son in law used it to trim branches near his pool….effective and effortless. But of course when we tried to use it, nothing was effortless or effective. In fairness, the branch was much bigger than we should have been cutting with my little pruner. A chain saw would have been a better choice, but we had dug the pruner out of the shed and my husband was still game to give it a go. And if you know my husband, when he is primed and ready to go….you go….or it’s gone! And this applies to many aspects of our…..ok never mind! As the little pruner saw-teeth dug into the bark and then into the flesh of the tree I could almost hear it laughing at us, mocking our feeble attempt at such a large branch with such a small tool. I stood on the deck directing as my husband sawed from the ground. Not much progress. He ventured into the new shed with the old shit and came out with a ladder. He leaned the ladder on the side of the tree, climbed several rungs and began sawing with a hack saw. (which to me, is just a stickless pruner) Again, little to no progress. He climbed higher on the ladder as I remained vigilant at my post on the deck, ready to declare when the branch was ready to fall. I felt that leaning the ladder on the very tree you are hacking at is a lot like the dentist asking you to hold the spit tray while he yanks your tooth out. But my husband didn’t think that the fence would hold both him and the leaning ladder so the tree will just have to hold the spit tray.

With the humidity soaring the mosquitoes began devouring my arms and legs even as I stood inches away from a citronella plant.  How they didn’t just drown in my sweat is beyond me. My husband sawed, rested, sawed and sawed some more. I watched, sweated and swatted. For two hours we (ha) worked on the tree until I came up with a great idea. Gravity! If I could get a rope around the branch of the tree and tug on it as he sawed, gravity would help pull the branch away from its trunk. (See why he married me?) I looked everywhere for a rope and the best I could find was bakery string, purple wool and lots of colorful loops. (The ones you used to make pot holders with when you were in camp) I went back out to a resting husband with the bad news. He said to use the hose. After flinging the hose and not even coming close to getting it around the branch, hitting myself in the face twice with the nozzle I thought it best we moved onto plan B. I found a stick that helped me pull the branch low enough so that I was able to hang on it. I held on and hoped that when the branch snapped it didn’t come down splattering my over-taxed brains all over the backyard.  The walnut tree would have loved that!

I hung, he sawed and the branch finally seemed to give way. I could hear the snapping of the walnut wood which gave me a sick pleasure that I am sure I should check out with a therapist. The branch began a slow decent. I announced from my perch that it was indeed on its way down and warned my husband to come down off the ladder in case it doubled back. Of course my husband was not only off the ladder already, but half way down the driveway. I’m here hanging on the damn branch and he is bracing for an avalanche. My euphoria was short lived. The huge branch and its many branch-lets (?) fell straight into the lilac bush that had grown into a lilac tree. And just like that we were at a standstill. The tree was winning. I saw it smile. The bark curled up into a grin, I am sure.  Or maybe I was just delirious from the 10,000 mosquito bites I had welting up. So the branch, now not quite hacked off, not quite attached was laying across my yard, over my deck and imbedded into the lilac bush tree. My husband, not quite exhausted, not quite so primed and ready anymore was laying in a beach chair pondering our next move. Me, I was just scratching and cursing.

I am a giver-upper. I know when I am beaten. I know how to throw in the towel. If it had been up to me I would have called our ridiculously overpriced gardener and paid to have the tree removed in the first place. But now it was principle. A friggin’ tree was beating me. Us. Two against one and we were still losing. My husband finally decided to get out of the beach chair and come upstairs to the deck where I hung precariously from the branch just moments earlier and help me get the branch out of the bush. He pulled and I pulled and yes, I think the tree pulled back. But in the long run that branch that housed rodent squirrels and gave shelter to pigeon coop escapees….went down. Feeling very vindicated (and sweaty and itchy) I opted to leave the branch sprawled across the back yard allowing the rest of the tree to suffer the indignation of its loss. Instead, as my husband cut the branch into manageable pieces, I came in to take a shower and maybe call a therapist.

stay! Nay!

Some moron came up with a word for having no plans to go away on your week off of work….STAYCATION! A clever combination of staying home and going on vacation. And then there are the morons like me who, because they gave it a catchy name, thought it would make sense to stay home on my one and only paid week off of work. It didn’t.

Counting the Friday I don’t normally work in the first place, and both weekends I haven’t been back at work for 10 days. Ten. One week and two weekends. Guess what I did with those 10 days. Laid by a pool sipping Mai Tai’s? Nope. Frolicked at the beach while getting sun kissed? Not so much. Strolled on the boardwalk with my husband in the cooling night breeze? OK let’s not get stupid now! Here are my ten days off, and if you are jealous, god help you.

Friday - My dog needed to go to the vet because he has allergies that make him stink and scratch and apparently deaf. (yeah, him and my husband…good God!) I had to cover the car seats with towels, lift his stinky ass into the car and waste most of Friday sitting in the vet’s office waiting room waiting for stinky to get washed, shaved (don’t ask) and medicated. $364 later I leave with a wet and shaved (I told you don’t ask) dog who refuses to get back into the car. After much coaxing (ahem!) he gets back into the car and immediately pukes just missing the towels. After cleaning the car in the 92 degree heat I needed a nap. When I awoke it was time to start frying. I had my niece’s block party the next day and offered to make a chicken dish that basically involves cutting, egging, breading and frying. I cut, egged, breaded and fried til my feet fell asleep and my knees went numb standing in front of the stove.

Saturday - I had planned to start the renovations on my bedroom that have been in the planning stages for weeks. Unfortunately I got up later then I wanted to and by the time I had coffee, read the paper and showered all I had time to do was vacuum the living room since the stinky dog’s bath had caused most of his shedding hair to….shed. I threw a load of laundry in, emptied the dishwasher, unclogged the toilet, set my DVR and off I went to my niece’s. After circling the block thirteen times, finally finding a spot only a block and a half away I realize I do not have the chicken. Back home with only a whisper of hope that the spot would still be there when I returned. Silly me! I parked, walked and finally planted myself in a beach chair and attempted to get shit faced on homemade sangria slurpees. Didn’t happen but it was great fun trying!

Sunday- Did nothing and was mind-numbingly bored. I watched two DVD’s both comedies, both stunk! Anytime an adult actor attempts to play a child in a movie, break the DVD! As the day progressed and the boredom took over, I was able to find more and more things my husband did to annoy me. Not a major feat mind you, but I was definitely on a roll.

Monday - Made a list. Put all the things I wanted to accomplish that day so that I could cross them out one by one and feel somewhat productive. I threw away the list when I started adding things like refill hand soap dispenser and check if the lone tomato I was able to grow on my Topsy Turvy was ripe yet. (it wasn’t ripe, it was gone….the squirrels had struck again) I went to the dry cleaner, the bank and the post office. I topped off this rousing day of festivities by going grocery shopping. By Monday night I was exhausted from all the day’s activities so I stayed in and watched DVR’d TV.

Tuesday - After Monday’s dismal showing and babysitting in the morning, I vowed to do something exciting. It was 92 and I wanted desperately to be on a beach. Everyone was either working, busy with other plans or hadn’t worn a bathing suit since 1974. Although I will do a lot of things alone, laying on the beach isn’t one of them so I began the bedroom renovations. I made one of my famous lists. That, unfortunately, took more time than I actually devoted to the room itself. I pulled off two pieces of paper that were already jumping ship and took a mirror and painting off the wall. Ok enough for today, this was boring and not what I wanted to be doing on my STAYCATION! (I hung the mirror and picture back up when I couldn’t figure out what to do with them.)

Wednesday - My daughter and I decided to go to the Staten Island Museum. Me, her and the four grandkids. We arrived to find the kids were afraid to cut across the grass since they had found and tormented a snake the last time they were there. I suppose they were afraid it was payback time, so we took the longer route on the brick path. (ok so it was only like 25 extra feet but hey it was hot out) The museum was wonderful and almost air conditioned. It was hard to avoid the 25 little girls with pink camp shirts and big attitudes. If one more pink chick knocked my granddaughter down they would have had to eject me. If one more counselor pretended they didn’t see their commie campers knocking down the dominoes my grandkids carefully set up to knock down themselves, I would have been in cuffs. We carefully navigated the rest of the museum so that at no time were we and the disrespectful cretins in the same exhibit room.

Thursday - I have no idea what I did today. I can assure you it didn’t involve the sun or sand or UV rays. I probably had my ass on the couch in the A/C . Oh wait, I do remember downloading two songs to my ipod and a book to my Kindle. Yee ha! Look out, livin’ on the edge now! And yes, if my memory serves me correct, I made 75 lollipops for a friend’s engagement party.

Friday - I shopped for the food I would cook later for my block party tomorrow. I had everything but the eggs delivered. The delivery guy is rough with the bags and this time I bought jumbo eggs for my special deviled eggs. (technically are made by my friend but since I took them from raw to hard boiled, I took the credit) I dropped the eggs. Twelve jumbo eggs on the kitchen floor. I salvaged what I could and asked her to do the same with the ones I could boil. I sliced eggplant, breaded eggplant and fried eggplant. I cut chicken, breaded chicken and fried chicken. If I never see another drop of oil it will be too soon. (Unless I am slathering it on my body in anticipation of baking in the sun.) Another feet numbing fry-fest….I was shot.

Saturday - Happy Block Party! From 9am until 9pm we sat and drank, talked and drank, laughed, ate and drank with the neighbors….most of whom I never met in the 24 years I have lived here. We wrapped each other in toilet paper, threw water balloons at our children, dodged bikes and scooters and skateboards. We climbed, slid, and bounced as men with three teeth apiece made us snow and cotton candy cones. We danced and listened to the DJ Nazi who announced that he had to leave at 9pm sharp and literally unplugged mid song! The cooler empty, the uneaten food that hadn’t gone rancid in the sun divided amongst the guests, and my feet were ready to revolt and simply not function anymore. I all but walked on my knees to my house. Refusing to wash a dish or do anything that resembled cleaning I planted my exhausted self on the couch. Thanks to my daughter and son in law, the block party was a huge success.

Sunday - Recovery. Slow, slow morning, coffee with a friend and the realization that my son (yes, the one that moved to Queens..sniff, sniff) had left a duffle bag here which I whole heartedly offered to bring to him. I sludged around for most of the day until it was time to leave for my son’s. Directions in hand, I got lost….found my way and thoroughly enjoyed an hour or so with my son in his still curtain-less apartment. (good thing they are on the 2nd floor )

I never got to my renovation project, never basked in the sun and did nothing that necessitated a post card….but I did go back to work today and truthfully I already miss my couch.

...gotta a marshmallow?

I have decided it is time to re-do my bedroom. My daughter bought me a beautiful bedroom set almost two years ago and as it sits in the corner looking sad as it peeks out of it zippered bag I wondered why I hadn’t used it yet. But I knew. It was because it would have been a sin to put such a beautiful set in such a crappy room. Many years ago I ‘decorated’ the bedroom. I sponge painted the eight wall-length closet doors to resemble a marbled effect. This was long before it was called ‘faux finishing’ and before Youtube had step by step instructions on how to accomplish it. It was also long before places like Home Depot held classes that no one attends on how to pull off this technique. So my closets look more like a sad mottled mess than the marbleized look I was going for. The walls were painted a light grey and I hung a border of pink and grey flowers. The curtains matched the border. It was a cross between Little House on the Prairie and My Secret Garden. Two pieces of border have started to show signs of mutiny as they hang on with ancient glue. The rug, before my dog added his little accent color, was grey on grey. How’s that for exciting??

Years ago we removed an air conditioner from the wall. The outside was covered easy enough by the new siding, but inside the bedroom was a void that I simply filled with crumpled newspapers and then plastered over. I think I saw that on This Old House, or maybe it was This House is Old…either way, it worked and I didn’t have to wait for or fight with Mr. Wonderful to get around to it. It wasn’t the best plaster job to begin with, but it got even worse when I wallpapered over the bumpiness. My solution, hang a mirror over the whole mess. And that worked too. Til now. The mirror with its, you guessed it…pink and grey flowers has to come down.

The ceiling fan that has been up pretty much since we bought the house 24 years ago has about 12 years of dust on it. (and they were worried about the air quality at ground zero…) I thought about taking down the fan and putting up some fun, sexy lighting…but then I thought who the hell has fun or sex in the…never mind.

I haven’t decided on a color yet. I thought maybe an accent wall, a nice bold green. Or burgundy. I went to Home Depot and saw colors like pistachio, mango madness and cappucino. It made me hungry. I avoided the section called Fall Colors since I assume come winter I will need to repaint. I found an entire section dedicated to Feng Shui and since I am pretty sure my Feng has no Shui left in it, I passed that up as well. There was the Zen section which is basically the equivalent of sitting around a campfire singing “Kumbaya my Lord” and making S’mores. Calm, tranquil, peaceful. I am not a very Zen-like person…for me it would end up looking the equivalent of finding out there are no more marshmallows and a bear has taken up residence in my sleeping bag. I found a wall of paint chips which were in the shape of Mickey Mouse ears. I took four of every color for my grandkids but saw nothing that worked for me. Paint shopping a bust, I came home to take another look at the room and considered wallpapering. Considered and then banished from thought as a momentary memory lapse allowed me to forget the bathroom wallpaper disaster.

My bedroom also needs corners…..there are no corners in my bedroom, at least none that aren’t filled with ‘stuff’. We have my husband’s valet that he bought because it had a pants presser feature. There has never been a pair of pants pressed or even remotely hung on that valet in 10 years. They sit puddled across the top. I would throw it out but then my husband would puddle his pants on the floor where the valet had stood. Trust me on this one. The other corner has a box containing a 20 foot Spongebob blowup, another of my husband’s idiotic eBay acquisitions. It has a hole so it sits in a box, in my room, in a corner, covered by a tablecloth, adorned with a vase. Spongebob is going down! (or maybe up…. into the attic) In another corner is a dress form which I bought years ago to facilitate my sewing projects. Since in order for a dress form to be useful, it needs to be adjusted to your exact measurements. I cried for over a week and then banished the portly dummy to the corner like some sick Time Out for being fat. There it has sat for over three years and other than scaring the hell out of my husband in the dark has few redeeming qualities.

The furniture will stay. It is still ghetto fabulous and besides all the drawers still work. I will need some artwork, some shelves and of course curtains. I am considering making the curtains since I do not need the assistance of my chubby assistant. Once I pick a color I will pick a fabric. Of course then I will need to decide curtains or drapes….single rod or grommet…swag or scarf….sheers or drapes….French or accordian pleats….or anything that doesn’t have little pink and grey flowers.