So, I decided that it was time to refill the hot tub today – its been running on the same basic load of water since, oh, September, when it was first installed. Can you say “human soup”? Bleah…
Not being patient enough for a garden hose and gravity to do the trick (600gal), I run down to Harbor Freight to procure a nifty submersible pump. Not being satisfied with the 22gal/min unit (seems wimpy), I opt for the mega 44gal/min unit. Yea! That’s the ticket (not stopping to think just how much water that amounts to.
Time to hook it up and put it in the tub. I jam a garden hose and a section of PVC pipe onto the outlet of the pump and the result looks something like this:
Fortunately, Lisa was not around to witness this marvel of Rube Goldberg engineering. Nor was she there to take pictures of me, now soaking wet, as a good fraction of the first 10 secs of water ended up all over me, as the hose blew out of the pipe and the pipe geysered all over me. Way to go.
Pondering how to do this right, I finally spied a section of flex drain hose on our 4000 gal water storage tank that looks like the right diameter (1.5″) – yes! It fits. Hook it up run it across the yard turn the pump on and:
Whoosh… yep – 44gal /min pretty much keeps that 1.5″ hose full, like a blasted firehose. Unfortunately, the hose wouldn’t reach any of the gopher holes, otherwise it would have been a great ‘gopher flush’
It’s spring. Officialy. Everything is either green and growing, blooming and spooging pollen everywhere, or sporting a brand new non-winter coat.
The yellow marguarite daisy thing and the cherry tree in the courtyard.
The grass that we can HEAR growing, the grass that taunts Art on a daily basis and makes Jack try and bust out of the pasture to get to it.
This, right here, beats the crap out of living anywhere else. You have to stand in this spot to believe it. I still can’t believe it.
Mao sporting the snarles and knots of winter. Art and I are going to do a number on him with the clippers when we gather up the courage to try. This cat is a B-A-S-T-A-R-D. Grade A.
Jack, all shiney and awesome in his new summer outfit. He’s darker than when we bought him, his winter coat was coppery. This slick new summer job is what I call “Hershey’s Special Dark”. Jack rocks. We love him to death. Even Art loves him, he’s that cool.
Humming birds are wetting themselves over the abundance of cherry blossoms. They’re EVERYWHERE, the humming birds. They sound like mondo sized bees, and they chirp really loud while they hover. Very cool.
Everything is spring, except the damn weather. It remains all sorts of crappy. For the record, I hate January thru April. March is the worst. April runs a close second. The weather, sucks.
More pictures of Jack, to show-case his awesomeness:
The poison oak, it is spreading. Gross. I hate poison oak. You can’t pull it up and get rid of it, because the oils get all over anything that touch it (you, your tools, the back of the bronco, etc). You can’t pull it up and burn it, because the oil floats around in the smoke and can cause some major MAJOR nasty lung/ eye problems. You can use Round Up, but with the amount of poison oak we have, we’d have to take out a second mortgage to pay for it. So we opted for the natural solution….more goats.
Meet Kip and LaFawnduh.
Okay, meet just LaFawnduh.
Kip refused to be photographed. He was busy climbing on rocks down lower in the pasture. Kip’s a little high strung, and the whiter of the two. LaFawnduh is darker brown and really a lot more laid back.
Neither seems to be very bright. Note LaFawnduh chewing on the fence, rather than the copious amount of thistle just behind him.
You heard me right, him. I still hold to my belief that LaFawnduh WAS A MAN IN DRAG. I swear. Look at the hands, and those feet. Totally a dude.
If you haven’t seen Napoleon Dynamite, you need to. It’s so dumb, it’s funny. I’ve seen it an obscene number of times. I’ve forced Art to see it an obscene number of times. Don’t just watch it once. You won’t get it. You have to watch it twice to get it. And the more you watch it, the funnier it gets. I swear.
I asked Dretti, about the TP….this is what he thinks. I don’t think we need to ask him to elaborate.
You’d think I would have something better to fuss over. But you know, this just keeps coming back to bug me. First, because it exists. Second, because I purchased it.
It’s the latest in the Great American Obsession with SuperSizing. The last thing you would expect. I’m embarassed to even acknowlege it’s existance, little less that it resides in my home…..
Toilet Paper. Not just any toilet paper, we ALL use the TP. I’m not talking about regular old TP, scented (and I really just don’t get that concept) or unscented, single (ewww) or double ply, quilted or non-quilted (???)….I’m talking about……
THE MEGA ROLL
Charmin Ultra….6 MEGA ROLLS. This, so they claim, is equal to 24, thats TWENTY FOUR, regular rolls of their 2 ply exra-soft butt wipin’ paper. 300, THREE HUNDRED, square feet….400 squares per roll!!!!!
I don’t know why I did it. What made me think, “sure, this makes sense.” There’s no real reason that we would NEED the MEGA ROLL. We don’t poo any more than the average couple (I don’t think we do, anyway). There’s not an obscene amount of nose blowin’ going on around here (not yet at least, spring has just begun). We don’t house teenagers who might need it for entertainment and vandalism purposes. Yet, for some reason I figured “hell yeah, Art will totally dig this”.
Our bathrooms now look frighteningly close to something like this now;
(except we hang it the proper way)
In case you were wondering, and I know you are, I’ve done a little size comparison for you, our viewing audience. Just to put it in perspective.
My cell phone and the TP.
A full size bottle of very yummy wine and the TP.
The wine, my hand and the TP.
As you can see, I would be hard pressed to carry this bad boy with just one hand. These rolls are most definitely two handers.
As anyone who knows me will attest to, I abhor the American ideal of Super Sizing everything under the sun. We supersize our meals, our vehicles, our homes, our debt and our expectations. We leave the important things to the standard, and the really important things like education and morals and values sub-standard. By all means, lets super-size the Toilet Paper. It just means a longer wait before someone (who shall remain un-named) leaves the bathroom high and dry again.
I am so very tired of this damn rain. It’s bringing me down, man, like…totally bringing me down. On one of the ONLY sunny days in the past two months I took the dogs down to visit my friend Helen on her lunch hour. We go out to a huge fenced park area down in Fremont and turn the dogs loose to run. On this particular day it was mud, mud and more mud. But at least the sun stayed out. Dee got to throw off her old stand-by name “DeeDee Square Pants” for “Dee Dee Mud Pants” and Dretti became “Dretti Mud Socks” and of course the obvious; Helen’s sweet little puppy Lyric became “Dirty Lyrics”. Check it out!
This is where none of D-Square’s feet actually touch the ground
And where Dretti makes everything look like a tremendous effort (note the pulled back lips and straining muscles)
This is when D became Dee Dee Fun Pants
D and Dretti kickin’ it (note, again, D’s lack of any feet on terra firma. she defies gravity on a daily basis)
Lyric and HER mud pants
And the Original Dee Dee MudPants
Art has, twice in one week, bathed the crunchy mud coating off of both dogs. The man has character, I gotta say. And patience beyond belief. Because let me just say, as much as you think “come on, they have no fur, how much dirt could they POSSIBLEY collect?”….oh no…no no no no nooooo. The amount is mind boggling. Ask my husband.
It’s official. In a fit of frustration, I looked up the word “procrastination” in the Websters Online Dictionary. I can’t say I was really surprised when this is what my query turned up:
Main Entry: pro·cras·ti·nate
Pronunciation: pr&-‘kras-t&-“nAt, prO-
Inflected Form(s): -nat·ed; -nat·ing
Etymology: Latin procrastinatus, past participle of procrastinare, from pro- forward + crastinus of tomorrow, from cras tomorrow
transitive senses : to put off intentionally and habitually
intransitive senses : to put off intentionally the doing of something that should be done
synonym see DELAY
– pro·cras·ti·na·tion /-“kras-t&-‘nA-sh&n/ noun
– pro·cras·ti·na·tor /-‘kras-t&-“nA-t&r/ noun
Image of the noun:
I’m sure I’m somewhere in there, perhaps listed under “irritating wife” or maybe simply “nag”, whatever. Today, Art has proclaimed me “stubborn beyond all reasoning”. Again, whatever. He knew that going in. What I was not fully understanding was the scope of his ability to procrastinate. He has subcatagories of catagories of things he would rather be doing than something that he might be able to do instead of things he MUST do. His procrastination has LAYERS, not unlike an onion, that, like to an onion, make me weep.
I love Art, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE THIS MAN DEARLY, but at this very moment I am being asked to come and help him futz with something on his desk (a desk pad that has been sitting, forgotten in the corner of the office for the past month, which must be put into use RIGHT NOW) instead of him doing the #%&*ing taxes. Oh wait, now there are cables to the computer that need to be rearranged, and darn it, the monitor isn’t perfectly straight, now the cable to the monitor isn’t long enough so maybe it will warrent a trip down the hill to find a longer cable, which will entail going to several different computer stores to see which one has it on sale vs. which one offers a rebate and which store offers a sale and rebate……you see what I’m saying????
I have to go now, I have chores. Chores that I’m going to actually get done today.
If it weren’t for the fact that April is also tax season, it’d be a great time of year – everything is getting green again, blooming, etc… but no, its that season again to cough it up to THE MAN…
Ah well. I found ways to avoid doing taxes this weekend – convinced Lisa it would be a good idea to visit the one of the nurseries in Sunol – there’s only like 3-4 of them at least (that I’ve seen – who knows, there could be more). We picked the Calaveras Nursery, since they seemed to be open. The other main tree nursery that we drive by every day is one of the Valley Crest tree farms, but I’m not sure if they sell retail – most of their stock seems to be for large landscaping jobs and such.
Anyway, in a dodge of responsibility, we spent a good hour looking over fruit trees. I walked in wanting to get a couple cherry trees (we have a large blooming cherry in the front of the house, but it doesn’t produce fruit – what a waste :-P) We ended up walking out with a couple lime trees, a couple of lemon trees, a blood orange trees (that will make great OJ come Halloween) – and then went back on Sunday to grab the cherry trees after pondering over nite which ones we wanted.
The cherry trees pretty much just look like sticks with a small amount of leaves budding on them:
At least the citrus look like they’re really alive:
Now, if it’d stop raining for a couple of days, we could actually get some stuff planted.
Back to taxes now. Here’s to you Uncle Sam:
So, the weather is clearing – at least for the next day or so it looks like. I managed to get some pix on the way home today. I saw Mr. Coyote hunting in this pasture, and decided to stop and take his picture. He seemed rather irrirated by my stopping and referred me to the sign that said “Trespassing, Loitering Forbidden by Law”:
Apparently, the turkeys didn’t appreciate my photography efforts either:
Though, maybe the coyote was going to like the fact that the turkeys were now moving his way. I didn’t hang out long enough to see if they partied down or not. I wish I had a camera with a telephoto lens…
Just as growing up in rural NJ, I like when I see police/traffic reports such as this one from a nearby town:
8:59PM MARSH CREEK JWO MORGAN TERRITORY–PER ACR TOW
8:54PM STILL GETTING COW CALLS
8:49PM ON RIGHT SIDE GOING TOWARD CLAYTON
8:49PM ANOTHER CALL WITHIN 1000 FEET OF INTERSECTION / BLONDE COW IN LANES
8:42PM PER CITZ TO TOW CO
8:42PM LOOSE COW IN RDWY
Its California – of COURSE its a >blonde< cow 😛