(or How Big Fat Kitty Spent Her Summer Vacation)
We’ve got a bit of the empty-nester thing going on at my house…and not soon enough for my husband.
No, the kids haven’t moved out or gone off to college. It’s a bit soon for that. I mean, they haven’t hit 44 yet, and isn’t that the new standard move-out-of-your-parents-house age? It’s the actual nest on the front porch that’s finally empty. My husband lost his yearly battle with mother bird this time around and as a result of his failure, he has had to endure a front porch liberally christened with bird poo. The cat, however, has enjoyed a summer of prime bird watching. Big Fat Kitty will have to find a new hobby now that they are gone.
First, a bit of back story. For the last several years, my husband has fought a war with a bird who has tried time and time again to build a nest on the front porch pillar. (Okay, it is likely a succession of birds, but it’s more fun to think of it as one particular bird locked in mortal combat with a grown man year after year.) Every year, the hubby vigilantly brushes away the beginnings of the nest as quickly as the mother bird builds it. It’s a tricky endeavor…once eggs are in the nest, he won’t knock it down again. He unwittingly knocked it down one year when there was an egg in it and he’s felt guilty about that ever since. This is Mrs. Bird’s one advantage. If she can just get a single egg laid in the nest, victory is hers. My husband’s strategy, therefore, is to keep the nest from growing to the point where it can hold eggs.
Continue reading “The Foster Birds”
Spent all morning today working on the car, ‘cause you know, I’m a renaissance kind of gal like that. I eagerly tackled the task of fixing the clock spring (look it up)—ready to read the repair manual, reference instructional YouTube videos on my iPad, and make the repair with minimal husband-supervision. I was really looking forward to Tweeting my accomplishment to the world (at least the 120-person segment of the world that follows me). Sadly, there will be no such Tweet today. It was an abortive repair attempt.
After the husband unhooked the battery (gallantly protecting me from an accidentally deployed airbag to the face), I am proud to say that I quickly and painlessly removed said airbag unit from the steering wheel. **A moment for you to bask in my accomplishment…….moving on** Now, time to remove the steering wheel. In case you didn’t know, there is a special tool for this particular task. It is called, creatively enough, a steering wheel puller. The good news is that we are the proud owners of not one but TWO of these handy gadgets. The bad news is, neither one of them were suitable for my particular car/steering wheel.
Continue reading “(Mis)Adventures in Auto Repair”
In the tradition of “The List”…as in, the list of five famous people you would be allowed to cheat on your significant other with should the opportunity ever arise (as explained in the episode of Friends where Ross has his list laminated)…I offer for your consideration my version of “The List: Fictional Character Edition.” **Hey, if you’re going to fantasize, why limit yourself, right? I figure I have at least as good a shot with any one of these characters as my husband has with Shania Twain or Britney Spears.** Continue reading “The (Nonlaminated) List: Fictional Character Edition”