Finally! The Big Announcement

I'll bet you thought this announcement had something to do with our 37-year anniversary and the fact that I gave Dean a trip to Portland to celebrate. No, not a trip alone to get away from me; he should be so lucky. This is a chance to get away from the BFD and visit the city he mentions, on average, once a month. "Powells Books is there", he says with reverence and awe in his voice, "and art galleries" and (sigh) "lots and lots of brew pubs". So we're off ... but not til September. We can't leave until we've conquered the wooden monstrosity.

Or maybe you thought I was going to announce we'd finished the BFD so you wouldn't have to read about it anymore. If only we were all that lucky. Sadly, that is not the announcement. However since we're on the topic of the BFD -- we were back out there again this Sunday morning in a bit of a panic. We foolishly allowed ourselves to sleep in this Sunday morning and enjoy a lazy breakfast of Dean's famous buttermilk pancakes, and my too-strong-for-anybody-else coffee. As is my habit on Sunday mornings I read the paper and drink coffee as Dean's cooking breakfast. This Sunday morning I made the mistake of reading the weather outloud to Dean. "Possible rain showers are predicted for the next five days." The guaranteed to last four years waterproofer needs 24 hours to dry so that was the end of the lazy breakfast. I hadn't even finished my last bite of pancake before Dean was hauling out the brushes and buckets and slathering on sunscreen .

There's alot of time to think while you're doing this

to touch up this

See the unpainted bit between the boards? Just not acceptable.

I was thinking of lots of things; like how if we would have taken three minutes to check the web we would have known that Fort Collins moved its farmers market from Saturday to Sunday. And yesterday Saturday when we drove there to give ourselves a break from the (surprise!) BFD, we found not tables and tables of veggies and fruits, but an empty parking lot with a sign. And if we would have know there wasn't a farmers market to rush to, maybe I could have slept in past 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday.

And I thought about the protest march we walked into heading back to our car. We were going in opposite directions both physically and ideologically. Bless their little hearts, all the blue-haired folks probably just forgot that the Medicare benefits they're currently receiving are coming to them via a government-run program. The same type of government run program they were protesting. I suppose the young ones just never think they'll get sick. And the folks that came of age in the 60s, well, I can understand how their brains may not be functioning at full capacity anymore. And then I thought about how I saw more Obama bumper stickers during the three hours I was in Fort Collins than I have in the past two years in Wyoming and my faith in humankind was restored.

I wondered whether my ankle, yes, ankle, would cramp again this Sunday morning (it did not) like it did the other night because I have found no ergonomically correct way to waterproof the deck. The tried and true cramp remedy of grabbing your toes and pulling up at the same time you are pushing down on your knee does not work when that foot is bending back and up, trying to align itself perpendicularly (is that a word?) with your lower leg. It hurts. Alot. When Dean and I rise from the deck, we do it very slowly and tend to say alot of "oh, ahhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmmmmm, phew, ohhhhh", and, for the first few steps appear to be walking like we have an invisible walker. The other night when my ankle cramped, the noises I made as I was walking around the far end of the BFD didn't even register with Dean. "oh ... oh ... OH, OH, oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH." Finally, as I was bent over clutching the rail, I heard a soft voice say "cramp?" and then he went back to brushing.

Dean's hopes of finishing the BFD by the end of the weekend were dashed but we did make noticable progress. Even if we would have stayed home yesterday Saturday, it got up to 95 degrees and that's too hot to apply the guaranteed to last four years waterproofer anyway. That's what he's telling himself anyway. I don't really care. I'm sick of the BFD, which, as of Sunday night has had reached this point.

I asked Dean what he thinks about during the hours we're out on the evil wooden monster and, other than wondering if he'd caught Abby's head-squeezing-energy-sucking-drooling's-better-than-swallowing-knock-you-down-flat-cold through the phone lines, (updated Monday night--turns out he did, only not as severe), the thing he'd been thinking about most was the topic that occupied most of my time on the BFD this morning; the topic that has been occupying my mind a good share of the time since I learned of it; the topic I've been waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting (Been waiting since Tuesday ... Wednesday ... Friday ... Sunday---I give up and write the post so I'm ready ... Dang that cold! ... still waiting Monday night. ...waiting ANOTHER Tuesday.....Tuesday afternoon ... still waiting ... THIS IS KILLIN' ME ...FINALLY--NOW!) to tell you; the true topic of this post. And that topic is THIS!

We are doing the happy dance. (If you're thinking "why are they doing the happy dance? The BFD isn't even finished" go back up and click on THIS!) Yes, Dean and I. I'm on my tippy toes; my arms are above my head and I am twirling, twirling, twirling around. Dean is up, on the toes of two feet, no, down, now up on one foot, on his toes, he's holding on to the back of the couch, yeeeessss, almost, on tippy toes on both feet, yes! now one arm up, next arm almost up, almost ... one foot down, back up, left arm down, back up, starting to turn, just a little, ... tipping, tipping, tipping, ... caught by the end table ... that's okay, I didn't like that lamp anyway, ... I know, it's those white athletic socks ... they slip ... Okay, that was my imagination. In reality Dean would have been wearing his sandals along with those white athletic socks and thus would not have slipped. He still wouldn't have twirled as good as me, though. We are very happy and excited for Abby and Jorge. Can you tell? We welcome Jorge to our family with open arms.

Wait ... what's that feeling? ... It's a twinge ... in my brain ... now my fingers are twitching ... starting to move ... a post ... I feel a future post coming on ... current and ... future ... sons-in-law ... crazy ... in-laws ... oh, ... it's out of my control ... the fingers ... stop ...
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Finally! The Big Announcement