Gettin' old

Getting old bites the big one. Working this weekend (actual manual labor) was not tough -- it's not particularly challenging to use a power washer for pete's sake -- but two full days of it kicked my butt. Big time.

Standing there spraying, moving the nozzel back and forth, over and over and over. Hauling the hoze a few feet at a time. Not too challenging, right? My body would disagree. On Saturday night I began to stiffen up. I was asleep by 9 p.m., exhausted. When I got up during the night I could barely get out of bed, let alone walk to the facilities -- oh the pain (even my fingers were killing me). Getting up Sunday morning was even more challenging. Thank goodness Rico was offering french toast for breakfast, or I might not have gotten out of bed.

A few ibuprofen and we were back at it Sunday morning. Rico manned the power equipment for the first couple of hours, and Nate and I trimmed plants, scrubbed furniture, and lounged on the deck chairs in the sun (just for a few minutes, really). When the guys left for baseball practice it was my turn again. Power up!

Rico filled up the gas tank in the power washer before he left for practice, and my brother filled it up again when he stopped over a bit later, and I was hard at it for just over an hour and half. Thank goodness the gas finally ran out! Don't get the wrong idea here. I'm not incapable of filling the gas tank by myself, but I really hate the stink of gas, and let's face it, it was a good excuse to call it quits for the day.

The good news? I slept like a baby again on Sunday. Better news? The pool patio is looking great and will be open for the season soon. Ahhhhh. Summer. I can't wait.

The irony here? It's not even my pool deck, patio, plants, or furniture. Ha Ha! (Thank goodness for siblings who share their pool -- I'm a happy volunteer when we get to enjoy the pool all summer long.)

Crazier than a loon

Crazier than a loon, and I'm not talking about myself. Some days I could be. Easily. (And not just when PMS is a factor.) But yesterday it was Rico that was off-his-rocker crazy. In his defense his did have a migrane, and was medicated for that. But his normal migrane-med-induced loopyness was compounded by the fact that he'd taken a sleeping pill (or two).

OMGoodness was he freaky. And guess what? He has absolutely NO RECOLLECTION of what a freak-show last night was as a result. It's cracking me up. And he doesn't believe me.

Trust me, hon. I'm telling it true. You we're nuttier than a fruitcake. And girlier than I ever could be (can you tell which one of us is the romantic one in this relationship? Here's a clue: not me). Needy. Whiney. Clingy. Nearly in tears at one point.

AND HE DOESN'T REMEMBER IT. Too funny.

Some night I'm going to have to tape it when he's taken his migrane meds. While last night was a prime example of the nuttiness, other nights are just as much fun. It might be enlightening for him.

But for today we're repeating ALL of last nights' discussions, because he doesn't remember any of it. We watched the Masters -- and I know that Fred Couples was 6 under par at the end of yesterdays' play, a point Rico just clarified for me as we are watching Tom Watson chipping out of the bunker right now, and I'm like, DUH, I know that, we watched the end of it and the interview that followed yesterday (and I don't even like golf -- and I'm so tired of hearing about Tiger that I could spit nails). We had a long talk about our potential vacation to Mission Point Resort (no recollection). We talked about job stuff (still nothing). We talked about what show we were going to tape and which show we were going to watch (Mentalist v. Marriage Ref), and tonight he asks which one I want to watch first.

Seriously? He really doesn't remember that we watched all of Marriage Ref already? Nope. Nada. Well, I for one am not watching it again. It just wasn't that good. Sorry Rico, you're on your own with that one.

Happy weekend to all!

Barking dogs and taxes

This week I've heard my share of barking dogs (and a hissing cat) and have thought many times about our taxes. Doodle is staying with us this week while her family is in the panhandle enjoying the beach. She's got such a great personality, is super cute, and is peppy and bouncy (even when she had to wear "The Cone" to keep her from messin' with the dog bite she got last week). Love her tons, but boy this girls likes to use her voice. That's not something Killer does, so it's quite a shock to the system.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry when she barks at something in the middle of the night and both dogs go racing across the room to look out the window. Then they race across the room to the other window. Then back again. All the while Rico is yelling "Dogs, no barking! No barking!" (Which, by the way, is really, really effective. Not!).

The fun really gets going when my cat comes into the bedroom and hisses as she walks by --this gets Doodle all worked up and she starts chasing her. Then Killer starts chasing them both. Fun, fun, fun. Hissing and barking, running, hissing, barking. Rico yelling.

Tonight I think I'll take something to help me sleep. :) And maybe I should take something to help me stop thinking about the fact that our taxes aren't done yet.

This may not seems like a big deal to most people, but I'm pretty anal about getting stuff done on time. And we're talking about taxes from 2008. Yup, that's right, 2008. They're still not done, and I can't freakin' believe it. All I can say is that we had better not get a bill from the tax accountant for this cluster or I might lose it. We still don't have an idea if we're getting something back, or if we'll be paying. Considering Rico is not working right now, I'm really hoping it's the former. (please, please, please, please)

Then we can go back to doing the E-Z form for 2009 taxes -- because we won't have any business stuff to deal with anymore. Woo-hoo!