free form tackling

Two days ago, I walked out into the backyard to see Grant diligently working hard on his creation. He decided to trim the tree that I've been mildly complaining about every time I see it. It grows so fast that its reach went from the patio to over the shed.

It was out of hand.

So, to make me happy, he whipped out the chainsaw and went to work. Every time he turned around and looked at me, I said, "take it back further."

"Are you sure?"
did I say it? of course I'm sure...

"Yes, I'm sure. It's making me insane. Our yard is covered in shade. I'd like to be able to grow stuff. Let that big ball of fire in the sky through!"

I got that, "I think you may be crazy, but if it'll make you happy - I'll do whatever stupid thing you want me to do" look.

I get that look often, but in the end - he'll see that I'm right.
He lopped off a good 22 feet worth of tree.

The backyard is filled with sun now and I don't have to go all the way over to the shed to lay out. It opened the entire area up and I did get my, "That was a good call; big difference" validation.

Of course, now I have wood up to my eyeballs laying in the yard because the wood chipper village guys aren't going to be here until the first week of June.

Grant started the long laborious act of cutting all that wood down to size and stacking it next to the stone fireplace and seperating the leafy branches and putting them over stuff I want to see dead so it all dries out and doesn't kill the grass that he's painstakingly been spraying with weed killer and reseeding.

Yesterday we're sitting at the table on the patio just talking and admiring his hard work while having iced tea.

Then the neighbor cames out...

This would be the other opponent in the infamous on-going Lawn Cold War of 2009.
Grant is suddenly on high alert watching his every move.

Let me just say that even though I would have no choice due to my overwhelming, "who-do-you-think-you-are?!-you-can-NOT-one-up-me!-we'll-all-die-before-I-let-you-win" sense of being - when it come down to it, I would really rather not go to war with someone like Grant.

Yes, pride is my sin.
We'd both die in a blaze of glory.

The guy starts spraying his lawn with weed killer.
I'm sitting across from him, but I can tell the tiny hairs on the back of Grant's neck are raising.

I have to all but commit suicide to not start making remarks to escalating the situation because it's so utterly amusing to me. I couldn't care less what the neighbors do.

"That son-of-a-bitch. Do you see what he's doing?!"
"The horror..."
I'm still being good...

"Oh my God, what is he doing NOW?!"
This is all too much for me, I know my limits... I have to go inside to compose myself...

Once I went through the myrid of comments in my head, I went back outside.
It wasn't over yet.

"Do you see what he has on his lawn? A GAS CHAINSAW. And all we have is this stupid ELECTRIC one!"

That's because when I bought that stupid electric one, I only had a few small things to take care of and it didn't require me to spend $200 more unnecessary dollars four years ago when I needed it. This is summarily dismissed as poor judgment.

"Great, now I have Chainsaw Envy"
I couldn't even take it.
That almost made me burst out in laughter.

"You see that, he just came out, put it on his lawn so he knew I would be sure to see it and then went back into his house"

I'm trying not to completely lose it at this point because we both are aware that he's creating something out of nothing and the guy probably doesn't have a clue what in the hell Grant is going on about and it's a one-sided war.

"That fucker. I'm just going to go over there and tackle him. That's what I'm going to do! I'm going to go over there, tackle him to the ground, sit on his chest and go, "STOP DOING SHIT TO YOUR YARD!"

...and then he's going to say to me, "Who are you?"

That was the straw that pushed me over the edge and I just started laughing uncontrollably.
Really, how funny is that?
Of course he's not going to do that, but that mental picture is hilarious.

You know what though? Today the neighbor has a sprinkler system out on his front lawn, a pile of trimmed tree at the curb and he cut his grass again.

So, the cold war might just be recognized by both parties.
And where is Grant right now?
Cutting the lawn...

barbie is a tramp

Today was actually a fairly decent day. It got up to around 60 degrees. Grant raked the yard and bagged the leaves and put the garbage service in his name. He did a good job.

My yard is a disaster area though - having nothing to do with him.

At some point, the previous owner of this house felt it necessary to plant wild flowers. Wild flowers...are like the plague. When it got out of hand for her, she decided to dig up the 10'x8' patch of land and lay down black plastic to try to kill it all.

Didn't work out so well.
So, I have wild flowers in random spots all over the place.

I also have onion in random spots, also all over the place. The backyard smells like an Italian Restaurant when you mow it.

It's all unorganized.
There is no sun on one side of the house either.
It's all sort of a nightmare.

I've spent the last hour debating if I should just get it all cemented and paint it green.
...and no, I'm NOT above that either

I only own .25 of an acre. Pathetically, my lot is the second biggest on this entire street. The other guy has me beat by an 1/8th of an acre.

Fortunately, it seems that Grant is almost as interested as I am in turning the backyard into Eden.

I should take some pictures.
Before and after shots.

Is it wrong that every one of my favorite plants - is poisonous?
...not that I really care if it is or isn't, I'm just curious

I'm hoping the weather stays somewhat even from here on out. That will help my back. Because quite frankly, I'm already sick of this spine issue.

This is sort of a pointless post, isn't it.
I think I'm boring myself.

Grant's mother leaves tomorrow morning. I wish she could have stayed longer. I offered to call her in sick at work on Monday if she would stay, but she insists on being responsible.

I'm going to miss her.
She's a good woman.
She genuinely cares too.

I've got a web site to work on and once I'm done with that, I'm spending three full days on the couch like a real person. Like I should have done weeks ago. I need to stop moving so the stupid inflammation will finally go down in my back.

For the next week, it's just Grant and I in the house, so I'm not really needed for anything anyway.

Oh my God, this really is a dull post.
...I just yawned....AT MYSELF!
That's not right.

Let me end with some fun little fact at least, so you won't abandon me due to this poor excuse of a post.

Barbie is based on a German Sex Doll

The world's most famous doll - that twentieth century icon, Barbie - didn't just appear full-blown from the mind of her creator, Ruth Handler. Barbie's inspiration, her immediate predecessor, is an overtly sexual hottie named Lilli.

Lilli started out as a cartoon character dawn by Reinhard Beuthien for the Hamburg tabloid newspaper Bild-Zeitung. This blonde, curvy bombshell who pursued rich men first appeared in ink in 1952. Three years later, she became a plastic doll in Germany. The definitive history Forever Barbi reveals: "The doll, sold principally in tobacco shops, was marketed as a sort of three-dimensional pinup ... Lilli was never intended for children: She was a pornographic caricature, a gag gift for men..." Mattel engineer Jack Ryan once called Lilli a "hooker or an actress between performances."

Ruth Handler - she and her husband were co-founders of Mattel - wanted to create a three-dimensional, plastic, grown-up doll for girls, but the company's all-male board nixed the idea. While in Europe, she happened upon the vixenish Lilli and knew that she had discovered the literal prototype for her unrealized doll. The original Barbies were deliberately based on the German mantrap (Barb's head, in fact, was cast from Lille's with a few minor tweaks).

When the first Barbi appeared in 1959, it was as if Lilli had been cloned. They had the same puckered, fire-engine red lips, same arched eyebrows, same almond-shaped eyes glancing sidelong, same golden hair pulled into a ponytail, same height (11.5 inches), same pencil-thin legs, same wasp waist with pneumatic breasts above and child-bearing hips below.

Barbi's similarity to her slutty forerunner didn't go unnoticed. During pre-release market testing, mothers complained about Barbie's sex vibe, saying things like, "I don't like that influence on my little girl" and, "They could be a cute decoration for a man's bar," Sears - purveyors of the almighty Christmas "Wishbook" - refused to carry her at first. Nonetheless, Barbie instantly became a huge hit with girls, and Mattel spent the early years making her less of a tart. Now, every second of the day, two Barbies are sold. Lilli must be green with envy.

- taken from the book, "100 things you're not supposed to know" by Russ Kick