Holly's bandwagon here and starting my own little Monday potluck. (Yes I realize that the link to her potluck bandwagon is actually a link to a post about potluck vacation. What can I say? I put together this post without really thinking about Memorial Day as a vacation...)
Part of the reason for my sporadic posting of late is that I keep landing on little nuggets of ideas that either aren't big enough for a whole post or about which I simply don't have time to think carefully enough to write a whole post.
Either that, or I'm a combination of busy and a little lazy. Take your pick.
In any case, Holly's Monday potlucks are always a riot--a great mix of random ideas, tidbits that make me laugh, and little thoughts worth chewing on. You know, like an actual potluck. Minus the jello salad into which somebody unwisely added shredded carrot.
So here's my first smorgasbord. I can promise that the categories won't all stay the same every week. And I can promise that I will post a potluck every Monday till I (or you) get tired of them. Beyond that, I make no promises.
And now, let the potluckking begin!
If Dora weren't so darn annoying, I'd be singing that "lo hicimos!" song right about now. Because yes, it's true, I did it! I finally cleared out the last bed of hideous ground-cover around our house and planted it with lovelies. I even made a row of porch pots filled with herbs, tomatoes, and salad greens. (Porch pots = no rabbits eating my produce.) If there were some sort of prize for thankless, intrepid gardening, I would totally deserve it. This de-ivy-ing of the yard has perhaps been the longest six years in gardening history.
The moral of the story is: whatever you do, don't plant ivy. It is an evil plant. It covers everything (trees, houses, you name it). And it is almost impossible to remove because it has Evil Roots Of Steel.
Evil Roots Of Steel are bad when you change your mind about wanting ivy.
Overhead this past week
Son: "Squishies don't last forever you know. So you should just trade me that one for this one. If you keep it, it won't last forever anyway."
Daughter: "I know. But I want to keep it."
Son: [in best pompous, know-it-all, older-brother voice] "Seriously, they don't last forever...They can have heart attacks, you know."
Because it's always worthwhile to try new things...
It's the ducks who are running the experiment this week, not me.
Apparently, our ostensibly pond-free backyard is so waterific after the intense spring rains that a pair of mallards decided it was worthwhile nesting in the tall grass.
Grass, reeds, who can tell? Whatever it is, it's completely water-logged. Might as well call it a pond, right? (If it looks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck...) And if it's a pond, might as well nest by it.
Those giant, noisy machines with large human drivers that keep trying to mow the pond? They're the ones in the wrong place, according to the ducks.
This week's rant is entitled: It's BEDTIME; just go to sleep already!
Seriously? What do you think I can do to make you fall asleep? I'm sorry it's difficult, and I know that's because you go to bed now while it's still light out, but quite honestly, after the stories and tucks, the Ritual Answering of the Three Important Nightly Questions, the snuggles and the final tucks, there is nothing else I can do.
I have previously drawn the line at drug- or heavy-object-induced sleeping, but if you come downstairs one more time to complain after 48 seconds of trying that you "still can't sleep," I might be reduced to drastic measures.
I promise that it will get easier. In fact, by the time you have children of your own, you will be able to fall asleep anywhere--including sitting bolt upright--in fifteen seconds or less, as soon as there is relative quiet and no one needs anything from you.
But until you are forty, falling asleep is a process, and it starts with staying prone in your bed. Popping out of bed and trotting down the stairs definitively do NOT help you fall asleep. So let's start with the staying in bed part, and let the eyes closing part just follow along.
This past week, I asked the DIY question: How long does it take to replace the washers in leaking outdoor spigots?
Answer: Eighteen months and eleven minutes.
If you look online for directions (which I highly recommend because you will find videos that make the whole thing seem really easy), everyone will tell you it takes only ten minutes to fix that pesky leak.
Of course, it will take you a year and a half to (1) achieve the motivation to look up the directions online, (2) find all the necessary nobs to turn off the water supply, (3) unscrew the handle and valve assemblies to determine which washers you will need, and (4) schlep to Home Depot to buy the washers.
However, I am living proof that once you have motored through steps 1-4, step (5) replace the washers and reattach the valves and handles, will indeed take you only eleven minutes for both spigots combined.
Leading, of course, to a mix of I am awesome, hear me roar, I just fixed a plumbing leak! and D'oh, why didn't I do that a whole lot sooner? Talk about wasted water...
Because awesome readers deserve props...
Comment of the Week this week goes to Molly for adding the hilarious reminder of personal tape decks (with monogrammed covers, no less) to my post about the outdated stuff of our childhoods. There are no prizes, Molly -- but you do have my heartfelt thanks for the good laugh.
If you want to join in the potluck fun, click here for all the directions on how to add your own Monday tasties.