The things I'm willing to do for blog material...

I had wanted to wait a few more weeks to write this post, but frankly, there's not a lot funny going on in my relatively boring life that aren't directly related to this one main thing.

And besides, KAT's little sis specially requested that I post. (Oh, you LOVE me! You really do!!!!)

So you know how KAT and I are pretty obnoxiously close, right? No?

OK, I'll review.

We met back in 2002 when we were both reporters at a newspaper together. It was about that time I was dating J. Months followed, J and I got engaged and KAT and I grew ever closer, bonding over things like pen fights, whiskey mixed with antihistamines and long story short, I woke up with no pants on in her bed.

Obviously, things like this make you bond.

So KAT stood up at my wedding (as in, she was a bridesmaid. I didn't just make her stand there in the middle of the church the entire ceremony. She had a matching dress and everything). Then J and I got a dog. And then KAT and PH started dating and then they got a dog. And as the years followed, KAT ended up married to my husband's best friend.

And then they moved. And then we moved too. To the same town.

My point, folks, is that we believe in doing things together.... which is why it probably doesn't come as a shock to you that almost exactly two months after KAT and the PH will have their little bundle of joy in diapers, J and I will get another dog.

HA! I got you, didn't I?

Okay, no not really.

We are, in fact, also having a baby. And by "we" I mean, you know, mostly me. But J obviously had a huge part in this whole thing.

So as I wrap up the first trimester, which for me has meant a moderate amount of puking, aversions to some of my favorite foods yet odd cravings for salad (My child's name may end up Romaine), "OH MY GOD I HAVE TO GIVE UP COFFEE," getting up four times a night to pee and seriously looking (or feeling so bloated that I must look) pregnant for at least a month now, I'm looking forward to sharing all of the kind of horrendous details that one should only share with her best friend, or publicly on a blog when it would make others laugh at my expense.

But you know. Whatever it takes. FOR THE BLOG.

Note: I've written this post and scheduled for advanced posting.  Which means I will likely forget that I posted it and someone will say something to me at some point and I will be offended and cry because I must look hugely pregnant. Please don't be offended if you're the person I cry to.

Where the wild things are...

The Pretend Husband grew up in a town that is a lot more developed than the boondocks we currently live in. So he really thinks this is country living and, because of his lack of experience in the country, sometimes isn't prepared for what goes on around here.

The other night, he spent the evening on the deck that overlooks the pond, grilling a steak, smoking a cigar and drinking a beer (I was working late and he turns into a swinging bachelor when that happens...) He had been staring out at the pond watching the bubbles as the fish popped up to the surface to eat bugs.

As he turned away to check the grill, the PH heard two huge splashes from the pond. Knowing they were too big to have been made by a fish, his first thought was, "There's an alligator in the pond!"

It turns out it was two ducks landing in the water, but I'm still teasing him about those New England freshwater alligators we have living in our pond.

Yes, you got it down. No, you did not do it intelligently.

One of the caveats that came with the house and property we bought from my dad is the large number of trees that my dad planted more than 30 years ago that have since taken over the yard. They are mostly huge, huge, huge evergreen trees (you know the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center each year? these are too big to qualify...)

While we're not huge fans of the trees that ring the property, there are two in particular that have been the bain of our existence because one is planted in the center of the front yard (blocking the house) and the other is planted in the center of the backyard (blocking the yard from the house). The Pretend Husband and I have always talked about getting them taken down in both a "wouldn't it be nice if we had some extra money and could hire a tree service?" kind of way (me) and a "I bet I could get a couple of buddies over here and take them down" kind of way (him).

While I tend to plot and plan, the PH can be a mite more impulsive, as evidenced by the phone call I got on a Friday afternoon announcing that he and kat's lil bro had been text messaging and decided they were going to take down the tree in the front yard. When I couldn't convince the PH it might not be a good idea to undertake such a big project without any idea how to even begin, I pulled lil bro aside and said, "I expect you to be the voice of reason. If you guys don't know how to do this without sending the tree into the house, don't go through with it." His response was, "How hard can it be?"

Which is how, within minutes, my brother was cutting a notch on one side of the tree while the PH stayed out of the way (I think he figured, if he didn't physically handle the chainsaw, he wouldn't be responsible for the tree crashing into the second floor of our house). So, the tree was notched on the side the guys wanted it to fall on, the wood was cleared out of the notch and... nothing happened. The tree didn't move.

My brother continued cutting until the chainsaw got stuck and turned off, which is when... we heard a crack... and the tree started moving... toward me, who was standing in front of our garage (so, it didn't fall directly toward the house at least, but still not in the direction it was supposed to go).

I ran, kat's lil bro ran from where he was at the base of the tree and the PH stood out of range staring in a horrified manner as the tree fell-- in the exact opposite direction from where the guys had planned for it to fall.

Luckily, it missed everything (our house, the garage, my dad's cannons, cars passing by the road, Molly and Casey) except two branches of another nearby tree. I spent the rest of the night saying to the PH, "You guys are soooo lucky. So lucky." And he responded, "It wasn't luck." To which I would reply, "It wasn't luck? Then what was it? Because it sure wasn't skill!"

Yes, I'm grateful for the new and improved view from our front door. No, I will not be letting the PH, kat's lil bro and their mighty chainsaw near the tree in the backyard. Some things-- like someone who knows how to send a tree in the direction it's intended-- are worth paying for.

Something I will never do again

Number one on the list of things I will never do again is go to Wal-Mart on a Friday night. Perhaps where you live, Wal-Mart is the heart of the community and everyone dresses appropriately, speaks clearly and has all their teeth. At the one closest to where we live? Not so much.

I actually had never been there... and now I know why. Wal-Mart on a Friday night is insane. Let's see, we were treated to half-dressed people, little kids screaming their heads off (perhaps because it was 9:30 p.m. and they were still awake?) and some of the rudest, least helpful employees I've ever met.

We had to go to the automotive section of the store for the battery the PH needed for the new love of his life, his riding lawn mower. As we stood there, two teenage boys who had been checking out the stereo systems cranked a bunch of them up then ran off laughing. While a nearby employee didn't seem to mind having to scream over the noise, I did, so I went over and turned all the stereos back down (and yes, I realize how old that statement makes me sound).

Then, while looking for a certain product to cover all the gray hair that has been invading my head, I spotted an employee stocking shelves and politely said, "Excuse me." That's when she grunted at me-- grunted! When I asked her where the magic potion was that will make my head go from looking like it's 50 to looking my age was, she muttered, "last aisle, on the wall" without looking up. Ok, then.

The last straw was as the PH and I were each lugging a heavy lawn mower battery through the store and we started hearing what the PH thought was an injured bird loudly crying out in pain. It turns out it was some type of toy that some kids in the toy aisle kept making squeal over and over and over again. We hustled to the cash register, having to scoot around a trio of 20-year-olds dressed all in camouflage with the girl trying to make out with her big, steel toe-booted, NASCAR hat-wearing boyfriend while his identically-dressed friend looked on.

And that is why I shop at Target.

Boys and their toys...

On Friday, my dad and brother dropped off a riding lawn mower the Pretend Husband bought. The Pretend Husband then rushed home from work to admire it and dream about riding it around the yard (it needed a new battery so the dream couldn't become a reality just yet). I can't be certain, but I wouldn't be surprised if he sat on the tractor and made engine noises.

That night, we hit up Wal-Mart to buy a new battery and got home after 9:30 p.m. The PH immediately went to the garage to install the battery. Suddenly, he walked into the house, grabbed a can of beer out of the fridge and went back outside.

Which is how I came to have a strange man with a beer in one hand joy-riding around our yard on his tractor at 10 o'clock at night. I would be embarrassed, but I'm pretty sure the neighbors are used to that kind of thing from when my dad lived in the house (which just proves I did indeed marry my father).