Stumbling Through Life With Grace

Tue 06.14

I Love my Hubby, BUT I’m Bringing in Help

My hubby and I will joke, about our kitty, and the concept of cats having nine lives. Usually in reference to him using one up. (ie; that peck from a bird on the head that came dangerously close to his eyes and a little too deep towards his brain) By our calculations little Smoky has used up approximately four of those lives. But what about mere mortals, are we entitled to nine lives? Are there angels watching over us, and when they retire, from getting our asses outta jams, is that it? The kitty reference is for my buddy Brad at Blogg’d, http://blgd.blogspot.com/ whose theory is, everyone must love blogs about pussies. (So this was my gratuitous pussy reference)

This last Saturday, bright and early, my adorable, hard working husband announces it is time to do some yard work. I took a deep breath, waited for the hairs on the back of my neck to lay down, and said OK. Making mental note of how many accidental death policies I have on his life and saying a prayer of protection. There is just no way in hell I could be witness to it again. It’s hard enough dyeing the grey outta my hair now, I don’t need a new batch to pop out!

We have some beautiful large shrubs, along the side of our pool, and one rather large one at the end of it. It makes for a peaceful soothing greenery affect around the pool, which is nice living in the desert. The problem is, they grow fast, and have to be trimmed fairly regularly, or else they will crowd out the space between the pool and the shrubs; leaving no room to walk around it.

The reason this has become such a harrowing experience for me, has to do with the last few times he was trimming them. First you must know, my hubby is a city boy from the get go. Originally from Buffalo, moved to Pittsburgh and then to Philly, before making his way to the desert. Landscaping has never really been a part of his daily life, ever. But we’re a family, doing family things, and part of this is yard work.

He is very proud of one of his purchases. And for the life of me I don’t know what to call it. It is electric, and I guess it would be a mini chain saw? I call it the electric thing. But overall it works for trimming off stray branches on the trees, trimming down the rose bushes in the fall, and trimming hedges, and shrubs. But it is electric, not gas operated. Thus we replace 100 foot cords often. He has a knack for cutting thru or nicking the cords on a fairly regular basis.

The first time I was a witness to his trimming efforts, I was inside working IN the house. (Actually I was catalog ordering the latest outfit I wanted.) I went out to check on his efforts, mainly concerned with all this shit ending up in the pool to clog the filter, and the skimmer. When I gazed over at him, working hard, sweat pouring down him, I was filled with adoration. This was quickly replaced with a strong sense of doom, that didn’t register right away. That’s when I saw it. His bright orange extension cord resting across and at the bottom of the pool, with him busily cutting away. As he was inches from the edge of the pool I didn’t want to scream and scare him right into it.
Me: Kevin! Turn that thing off now!
Kevin: What? I’m not getting it in the pool!
Me: Turn it off!!

That’s when I pointed out his cord lying in the pool. He swore to never allow this to happen again. I let him know the dangers of electricity. And if he didn’t treat it with respect, he would be watching me from the hereafter spending the life insurance money with Sven the 27 yr old tennis pro on my arm! After inspecting this particular cord, it was determined that the several nicks on it, now made it a danger, and off he went to buy a new one.

Later that day, with his new extension cord in hand, he tackled the shrub at the end of the pool. We don’t own a ladder, or a truck to purchase one either, so the height of this shrub was a bit of a problem. “No worries” said he. “I have my two step, step ladder. That’ll work.” I assumed I had scared him sufficiently enough earlier that he would use care with his handy extension cord this time around. So I went into the kitchen to start dinner. The kitchen has a large picture window overlooking the pool area, where I could keep an eye out for my hardworking man.

Lost in what I was doing in the kitchen, I really wasn’t paying attention to him though. When I finally did look up, there was my 225 pound/6’1” husband on the top of his step ladder, that was inches from the edge of the pool (the 8 ft deep end) wobbling all around as he trimmed away oblivious yet again to his precarious position. More then once I thought he was falling in. I ended his trimming session at this point, no longer able to take helplessly watching him take his life into his own hands, over shrubbery.

I had a clue early on that handyman around the house was not his forte. I had been living in my new home less then a month, when he brought his gas grill over to my backyard, for BBQ’s. He was having a problem with hooking up my old tank to it, and then getting it going. When it promptly caught fire under the patio, he screamed for me to call 911, that it was on fire!! And he didn’t know if it was going to blow up! I ran back into the house, not wanting to blow up with it, and called 911, shaking like a leaf and having a hard time getting the words outta my mouth. About that time, he panicked and tipped the whole grill over into the backyard grass where it really flared up! In the middle of my incoherent conversation with the 911 operator, it died out. And I let the operator know not to send the Calvary, it was under control.

One week prior to the gas grill episode, my new homes roof blew off during my first monsoon in the house. It is a very eerie feeling to listen, and see pieces of your roof flying into your pool and trees. So I was feeling a little unsteady about home ownership, when the grill caught on fire. It was then, that I decided, that I would slowly bring in help to take over most of all home improvement projects. Not quite sure of my fiancÃ©s ability to complete them successfully, or without injuring himself or me and the kids. He actually is quite the griller, and is always in charge of BBQ’s now. Although we did buy a new propane tank for the grill.

Over the last three years, I have come to the conclusion that neither he nor I know jackshit about the upkeep and care of the pool. Unfortunately our pool service is aware of this as well. And we end up having a good $800.00 in extra work done to it every summer. That’s on top of the normal upkeep fees. You pay the price for ignorance. I also installed a “lawn guy” who comes in every week to mow and edge the backyard. As well as planting the winter grass, that in my opinion is a must. After signing my papers that made the house mine, the previous owner did inform me of a slight infestation of scorpions that live in our area. His daughter had been stung by them ONLY twice. So the pest control service was hired. He comes out once a month, and does bonus work because I always tip him ten bucks in cash. Bonus work being keeping his eyes out for those little monsters and killing them!

Now my dilemma is, do I hire a landscaping service for trimming the hedges around the pool? He did successfully complete it this time around. And he didn’t get the shit in the pool. But I hate having to mentally prepare myself for his death everytime he trims the hedges! A landscaping service will not care what drops into the pool. Assuming any of them speak English, to tell them to be careful about the pool. This is going to take some thought....

NOTE: I had permission to tell of his harrowing hedge trimming experiences, but only if I made note of the fact that there are a few areas, I would never consider bringing help in on. A point the cat learned Sunday night. When in the middle of a screaming orgasm (mine) , the cat jumped on my chest, and bumped my head with his head. Interrupting this particular moment, did not get him treats that night. (Heh...another gratuitous pussy cat story)

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3T (3rd Times a Charm) @ 06:36 AM
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