Wasn't That A Dainty Dish To Set Before The Queen?

Casper is boring me.  Or to be more precise, sitting in front of a computer ten hours a day and then coming home to, as Dean likes to call it, our hotel room, bores me.  After work we take Angus for a walk, eat dinner, clean up, watch TV, go to bed, get up the next day and do it again.  Consequently when we come to Sheridan, where we are this weekend, I’m always looking for something to do.  SOMEthing to do besides watch TV in a half-empty house. That’s why a few weeks ago I decided we should pull off the paneling, get the walls textured and then paint them. I really needed something to DO that didn't involve a remote control or a computer.

We've torn off the paneling.  It's been textured and we've been doing a bit of painting.
 

I really hope soon I will be able to show you the finished project.

We’ve spent the last three weekends up here priming and painting ceilings and walls.  Gosh, I’m beginning to hate painting.  But I hate being bored more.   

Last weekend when we were up here Dean said, “I need to tell you something.”  My heart sank.  “Oh, no, he found out I threw away the dog fur the last time I brushed Angus” I thought. But no.  It was much less traumatic.  He just told me that once we’ve finished with this living-dining room redo, I need to find a project that doesn’t involve him. 

This weekend, as much as I wanted to finish the last bit of painting, I told Dean he could do whatever he wanted to all day long on Friday.  Anything he wanted.  All day.  Because I knew Saturday it was supposed to rain and THEN we could finish painting.  I thought he would spend this gift from me organizing his garage/workshop so he could frame the windows and put on the baseboards in the house so he’d be able to 

create some kind of uniquely Dean object d’art.  But he surprised me by spending about five hours watching You Tube videos to help him figure out how to put together the special fancy chainsaw sharpener he’d purchased last fall.  Too bad he discovered he needs to order a different grinder wheel to fit his baby electric chainsaw but I’m sure those cottonwood branches hanging over the house aren’t going anywhere.

Since it was a warm and gorgeous day I decided to keep myself busy by trimming the potentilla.  By time I’d finished clipping and hauling 15 branch and dead-leaf filled tarps my body hurt so much Dean had to help

 

 

me get up off the couch where I had dropped after stumbling in from the yard.  My hand might have been a bit less claw-like if he would have realized the big 2-handle hedge shears didn’t work because the screw that was loose was in the clippers, not my head, and not because I was “probably clipping at an angle instead of straight on.”  But on the bright side, after using the smaller hand-held pruning shears my fingers were curled in the exact position I would need to hold a paintbrush later, and the scabs and scratches on my forehead and arms shouldn’t leave a scar. 

Later, in the wee hours of the night as I was fumbling for the Ibuprophen, a family hike in the Tongue River Canyon sounded like a much better plan for Saturday than more painting or yard work. 

Dean managed to contain his disappointment that we wouldn’t be painting.   

Where's Myra?!

Where's Angus?!

 Pierce and Emerson asked him geology questions and even listened when he answered which was a totally new experience for him. 

 We headed home just before the rain started

and on the drive I saw three bald eagles.  Every time I saw one perched high on a tree I thought about asking Dean to stop so I could take a picture but then I'd think it would just be a waste of time since all I have is a little point and shoot camera.  I finally decided that was just stupid so when I saw a Golden in a tree I decided just because I didn’t have a fancy camera with a telephoto lens it wasn’t a good not reason to try.   

 I should have had a fancy camera with a telephoto lens.

This morning we woke up to winter. I knew it was too early to think we wouldn’t get any more snow but, like dying, even though I know it’s inevitable, it’s hard to truly believe it’s really going to happen to me.  There was no yard work today.  There was no hiking today.  Dean wishes there had been no painting today.  But I wasn’t bored.  

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Wasn't That A Dainty Dish To Set Before The Queen?

I'll Have Cheese With My Whine

I don’t like change.  It’s hard for me.  It’s stressful for me.  I am a creature of habit.  My alarm goes off at the same time every morning and I lie in bed and pet my two kitties for exactly two minutes before I get up.  I have, on occasion, messed up and petted them for three minutes, but that rarely occurs.  I am a person who eats the same thing for breakfast every day.  I leave for work at the same time every day (give or take five minutes).  I drive to work the same way every day.  I do my laundry on the same day every week.  I water my plants on the same day every week (if I remember).  Get the picture?  Dean, on the other hand, loves change and can’t stand to do or eat or see or … whatever … the same thing over and over and over.  He thrives on change.  He requires change.  Even though I know change is good for me and a necessary evil part of life, and I know I have in the past and will in the future survive it – I fear it.

I won’t go so far as to say change is torture for me, but adjusting to any kind of change is a challenge.  It takes me a long time to wrap my head around what’s either just happened or is going to happen, and while my brain is processing and I’m trying to figure out how to accept whatever change I’m up against, I worry.  And when I’m worried I tend to clam up.  Even though Dean thrives on change, on occasion, change IS torture for him.

What’s wrong? (Something’s going on….)

 Nothing.

Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you? (I must have pissed her off somehow)

 No.

You need to tell me what’s going on.  (I’m getting cranky.)

 I’m fine.

We need to talk.  You need to talk to me.  (If I had hair I’d pull it out now.)

 It’s just the January blahs. Don’t worry.  Really.

There's a look, some head-shaking, some grumbling, some mumbling ....  

Unfortunately for the man, there’s been a fair amount of change happening in our lives over the past few months, not the least of which was our decision to buy the home in Sheridan.  Even though I chose to make that change I worry.  I worry we made a mistake.  I worry we won’t really like the house once we’re actually living there.  I worry we won’t meet people or make a friend. 

On a bad day, which always seem to be when it’s cloudy, the accept the change and go with it you idiot, lobe of my brain doesn’t function and I spend way too much time staring into space, focused on the tankless water heater that needs to be replaced, and the portion of wallboard in the bathroom I discovered needs to be replaced, and the ice maker that needs to be replaced because I was an idiot, and the boxelder bugs that come to life when it gets above 50, and how it’s been six months and we still haven’t been able to move furniture up.  And then, only today, being told the pipeline in our right-of-way will be replaced in ten weeks which may “cause a bit of a mess until we can clean it up.”

On better days, which seem tied to sunny days, I look forward to sitting on the deck with a glass of wine listening to the creek, or in front of the wood stove with a book.  I think about how close cross country skiing and hiking will be.  I picture our furniture finally being moved in to a warm and cozy house.  

And I think about the big hugs we get when we come up for a weekend and I remember why we are making this change.

I know I will eventually quit torturing myself with worry and embrace it.  Dean can only hope anyway. 

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I'll Have Cheese With My Whine

Is It Raining?

I know I've told you more than once I needed to/wanted to/was going to write a post about our vacation in Ecuador.  Each time I wrote that, I was pretty sure I heard a collective sigh of relief from all of you out there in cyberland.  So I’ve been trying to come up with a way to not only entice you into reading a vacation post but keep you here until the bitter end … but I just can't think of a sneaky creative way to  bore entertain you.  Know why?  Because pretty much nobody wants to see pictures from somebody else’s vacation.  Am I right?  Yes.  You know I’m right.  Do you know who does want to see them?  You don’t?  Well I’ll tell you who wants to see them.  It’s a very select group which is made up of 1. the person who took the photo and 2. the person who is in the photo.  That’s who wants to see vacation photos.

It’s a bit hard to accept but I get it.  I do.  Why would any of you care about looking at photos of monkeys if you didn’t get to feel the monkey lick your cleavage, or

experience the warmth of their pee on the side of your face.

 

Looking at a picture of somebody ELSE eating pork from stacks of roasted pigs wouldn’t make your mouth water if you hadn’t actually chosen the pig and watched as the meat was pulled off and piled on your plate.   

  

And heck, a waterfall photo has no meaning for you if you didn’t have to look for an ecologically safe place because you thought you were going to vomit since your husband had so generously shared his “bug” with you.

So if you haven’t already yelped in fear and slammed shut your laptop, please don’t let the guilt of not continuing to read this blog restrain you.  I understand and hold no malice toward you because guess what?  I’m going to post my vacation pictures anyway.  Grab a snack and get comfortable because there are SOOOOOOOOO many … wait … what’s that rumble?  Thunder?  No…. not thunder …. hmmm … oh, I know … it’s feet … running.  Damn!  

Well, then....since there is nobody left, I think I'll just wait until tomorrow.

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Is It Raining?