I dinna mean ta do it....

I decided I had too much energy today and it was a good day to burn that energy by cleaning some carpets. I drug out the steam cleaner and went to work in the bathroom. The bathroom and steam cleaners don't really get along. My last one passed away in there. Twice. Really. As luck would have it, my second cleaner decided to kick the bucket, too. Not totally, it just needed a swift kick in the arse to jump start it again.

Now I'm not afraid of appliances. I get that from my dad. He's the guy who takes everything apart. Recently he took half the outlets apart in his house without shutting off the power. After I saw him get shocked and he jumped two feet in the air, I decided I either had to put 911 on speed dial or leave so I didn't have to witness anything I didn't want to see. I do have sense enough to disconnect the power, though.

So... I took my steam cleaner apart.

Only problem was, I couldn't get it back together again.

Actually, I did get it back together, it just wouldn't suck any water up.

What did I do? I cried. Yes, I CRIED! Over a stupid steam cleaner. I have the worst luck with appliances. Could have something to do with the fact that I try to fix them myself, and did not inherit my dad's ability to fix things, only take them apart. Sometimes I annoy myself. So I cried.

Then I went shopping with my mother in law. That's what happens when she captures me during a weak moment.

The husband felt sorry for me. Clearly, this was serious, or I never would have agreed to take my mother in law anyway. He spent the last hour taking my steam cleaner apart and putting it together the right way. My dad uses duct tape. My husband uses super glue. It's a little more permanent, but ... it works, so I can't complain. I wouldn't have had this problem to begin with if I had just waited for him to come home and fix it for me in the first place. But then, I wouldn't have had any tears of frustration to show him and he might not have felt quite so sorry for me. And I might not have accepted the invitation to go to town, and I wouldn't have bought that cute new star to hang up in the kitchen.

I dinna mean to do it... honest.

Asparagus thieves...

Well, gang, it's that time of year when the asparagus starts popping it's itty bitty yummy heads through the ground, and the neighbors start showing up in droves to collect it when I'm not looking.

It's hard to believe that there are people gutsy enough to come into MY front yard, and steal my asparagus, but it happens. Regularly.

Now, you've seen my front yard... here's a little reminder in case you've forgotten...
It's big... I admit it. And yes, the asparagus is growing on the other side of the ditch bank, which is just a few feet in front of those four itty bitty trees out front. But it is still MY property, that ditch bank runs through MY grass, I pay taxes on that asparagus! It's MINE. Why do people just assume that it's a free for all?

Can you tell I'm bitter about it?

It's not that we love asparagus. We like asparagus, we like it a lot. We get lots of asparagus. We like to share our asparagus. We like to share our asparagus with people of our choosing, however. Not just any old codger off the street.

One year I even put up a sign that said "please ask before stealing our asparagus." It didn't deter many folks. In fact, one day, my girls came running in the house just sobbing "someone is stealing our asparagus!" My husband walked out and politely asked if they could read. Apparently not. I didn't mind her picking it, one bit, but it would have been nice if she had asked. What did she do? She threw the asparagus on the ground and left. Did you think I lived in a classy neighborhood or what?

I haven't personally witnessed the theivery of asparagus yet this year, but I did go out to pick it on Monday morning after seeing there was massive amounts calling out my name on Sunday afternoon, only to discover that my large asparagus patch was devoid of anything but broken stems. THIEVES!!!

The highlight of my weekend... part two...

After reading your comments of sheer pity on my behalf, I must finish the story of the highlight of my weekend...

I.came.unglued!!!

My mother in law said, "oh, it's okay, it will wash out!" HUH? This is dry clean only, which I'm sure really just means that the material will fall apart or something in the washer since it's polyester or something similar and not spun silk or rayon. Besides, she is the expert at getting out stains... and making sugar cookies.

Really? You ask.

Really. It's the only two things she can do.

Okay....

In January, when we were painting the inlaws house, Ishee was also sick with a fever (she gets more fevers than any other child alive, I think). She was in my inlaws house watching cartoons on the couch, and her older sister was hanging out with her. The sister came out into the new house and said "Ishee needs you."

Well, right before she came out with this news, this happened... (my fault... the roller slipped... honest... and his head was in the way...)

And then my mother in law bent over, and well, she was just asking for this...

And apparently my bum was in the way of my husbands roller...

(btw... this unfortunate picture was taken by my sister a few weeks later... I think she was going to use it to blackmail me with someday... notice how I cropped all but the very spot meant to be shown to the world wide web ... uh-huh... it's ... just... bad... in fact, thanks to my husband, it has a matching eye on the other bum cheek!)

Well, as luck would have it, when my baby girl says she needs her mommy, her mommy drops everything and comes running. I went into the house and she was laying on the couch sobbing. I darted into the living room and plopped down to console her. Turns out she was only crying because her sister had left her alone for what was in seven year old time... forever.

I picked her up and took her out to the new house where she proceeded to lay in the middle of the unfinished floor and sleep for the next few hours.

A couple hours later, we went into the house for our lunch break. I walked into the living room, and there in the middle of my inlaws new sofa was... a nice circle of dry paint that matched the circle on my butt just perfectly. OH CRAP.

My husband and I did our best to clean it off, to no avail. My mother in law replied with... "it's okay, I'll get it off later." How she was to do that, I did not know. However, the next day, the paint stain was completely gone, as if she'd run out and purchased a brand new sofa (wouldn't put it past her, really). She never shared her secret with me....

Thus, she was totally convinced that my new bedspread would be JUST fine.

Turns out... she was right. A quick dash to the sink, some running water, and a tiny bit of handsoap got it off immediately.

Now the only stain that remains is the cat that refuses to leave... although she has been banished to sleeping on an afghan in the hopes that her stupid claws keep out of my bedspread...

And the leftover red decor I have yet to replace...
Really had you going, didn't I? Sorry 'bout that!

And just for the record... Moon pies are not that good...