Maestro? The banjo please.

Our neighbor to the left has a perfectly manicured lawn. Our theory is that just before we moved in he must have completely reseeded his lawn, because there is an even layer of blemish free grass carpeting his front yard. It's a sight to behold, really, and I've started to feel incredibly guilty for our blatant neglect of our front yard. We've been so focused on working to improve the interior of our house that we just felt the front yard could wait. We don't even own a lawn mower yet, so we figured we'd just wait until there was an overgrowth of grass...turns out we'll be waiting a long time for the grass since there's none to speak of. In an effort to bring down property values throughout the entire neighborhood we've established a thriving weed population. I'm not sure if there is a tool known as a "weed mower" (weed whacker you say? Hmmmm) but if such a fancy tool exists we may need to purchase one.

"Legalize weed!", they say.

Just for an extra bit of mustard on the sandwich, the screen door we took down the day we moved in is still sitting happily on our front porch. Oh god. We're THOSE neighbors.

I've got a code in by dose.

Just as I was getting back into my running and working out routine last week... this week I feel like this:

Not that I'm wearing a suit and fancy hat....nor do I have a similarly dressed buddy sharing my congested pain sitting next to me at the moment(I'm hoping maybe later), but this was the best picture I could find to describe how I feel. I couldn't find a picture that encompassed the achy feeling, but I think we all understand. 

If I believed that taking a decongestant would do anything other than make me feel sleepy and/or wired at the same time I would haul ass to my local drug store. Instead I'll continue popping vitamin C and use my blog as a way to seek sympathy for my sucky cold that makes me not want to go running despite the consequences...which are that my dog will pace the living room all night making me feel guilty for neglecting his own exercise needs because "HELLO I'M TRAPPED IN THE HOUSE ALL DAY LONG BY MYSELF, MOMMY!" To which I will look at him and say "go do that crazy running around the tree and digging thing you do to release excess energy. You have my permission. Go dig". I'm an excellent mom....the prime example being when Indy was whining because Chris had left the room this morning to *gasp* take a shower and ohmygoddaddymightnotcomebackeverywherediddaddygomommyyouhavetogetupbecausedaddyleftus! this morning and I sat up and yelled "Indy! Shut the fuck up!".

Why St. Patty's Day Can Suck It.

Shortly after we discovered I was allergic to artificial food coloring, I was in either Kindergarten or 1st grade and the teachers called us all in to the gym for a St. Patty's day party. As we walked in we saw a long fold out table set up with green decorations. At each place setting was a green sugar cookie with green icing and green sprinkles....And next to the plate?...A tall ice cold glass of green milk. Everyone took their place at the table and began to dive into their green treats. I...was handed a dixie cup (with cartoon characters on it) and pointed towards the water fountain.

The answer is.....(drumroll)

Alrighty....for all you those waiting with bated breath...wringing your hands in sweaty anticipation of the answer to the math problem.....

I'll tell you tomorrow.

Just kidding. It's 10,990.

You'd be surprised how many people don't get this...

So I guess I've lost a little bit of steam in the posting every day thing....I do apologize to my adoring fan. I guess there's just not much to say and I've been a little preoccupied with changes here at work and sorting out the dramatic lives of my friends. So I'll give you all a nice little game to play while I come up with something interesting to say. Sort of a "look at this shiny thing!" (*scurries away*)

Normally this little math problem comes with a spreadsheet that is password protected. The answer is the password. But that doesn't work very well on a blog so I'll just provide you with the answer later.

This is a 5th grade math problem. This is not a trick question. So the answer isn't "buses have no legs!" or "the front legs of a cats are called arms!".

There are 7 girls in a bus.

Each girl has 7 backpacks.
In each backpack, there are 7 big cats.

For every big cat there are 7 little cats.

Question: How many legs are there in the bus?

** The bus has no driver. (he jumped out just before the bus drove off a cliff. don't worry, the cats make it out just fine.)

Awkward Life Moment #16,278

When you enter into a single person public bathroom only to find it stinky as all hell. But you have no choice, so you use it. Then when you exit there's someone waiting to go in right after you...and you just KNOW they think you funked the place up.

Yea. That IS awkward. Glad that's never happened to me!....at work....where I see that person all the time.

Weekend Warriors

Work began this weekend on finally fixing up the living room. We had sort of burned ourselves out with the buying of a new house, moving in, fixing up the bedroom and bathroom and we had been using the last few weekends to entertain family and friends as well as just relax. 

But I put an end to all that relaxing by having a minor freakout that we were going to spend the rest of eternity with mint colored walls accented by spackled holes and baseboards that weren't actually attached to the walls and insisted we get to work. We didn't get anywhere close to being done, but we made significant progress and I think one more weekend of working and I'll be able to post some nice before/after photos. 

The upside is that this weekend gave me a good opportunity to work on my sanding skills.

Always wear your protective mask and safety sunglasses