I knew I was going to need help taming and rehoming Big Red. Since the girls lack the ability to repot plants (but Emmy is a pro at unpotting them) that left ROM as my helper. Though the girls were of no assistance that didn't stop them from wanting to participate. Can you spot Emmy in the photo below patrolling and keeping us safe from geckos? She takes her gecko patrol duties very seriously as she loudly sniffs every corner and crevice. And if she spots one? Nothing will stop her from pursuing her prey- and that is how she unpots plants. Occasionally a gecko may manage to escape into the foliage of a plant thinking he's safe from this crazed predator... only to realize too late that Emmy The Gecko Slayer will not hesitate to rip a plant apart to get to him.
As we started to gently untangle all her many branches I realized this was going to take some time... and it was hotter than hell and so friggin' humid. And I was sweating... I don't do sweat. I find all sweat repulsive whether it's mine or some one else's. It looks greasy and smells bad, plus it's terrible for your hair. Sweat is my body telling me that if I don't immediately retreat to the air conditioning or a chair at the beach I am for sure going to die! If God wanted us to sweat he wouldn't have given us air conditioning, antiperspirants, and ice cream. Right? It's gross and unholy. ROM knows how I feel about sweat so I was sure he would realize how dire the situation was when I told him my tatas were sweating. Instead of immediately rushing me into the air conditioning, getting cool rags to soothe my sweaty
tatas brow and an iced beverage to refresh me he playfully grabbed at my dripping tatas as he offered to dry them. Good thing my hands were filled with Big Red's tangled branches or I might have reached over and twisted his sweaty junk. But enough about groping our glistening naughty parts... back to Big Red...
We had Big Red's new home ready for her. (Damn it, Blogger why do you load pics sideways? Drives me crazy!)
I bet when the last piece of that pot fell away from Big Red she felt just like we do when we take our underwire bras off.
After much blood, sweat and tears... okay, there was no blood or tears but there was whole helluva lot of sweat... we got her in her new pot and tied up on her new trellises. Then it was time to clean up the huge mess we'd made- dirt, dead leaves and crushed pieces of Big Red's old clay pot. Since my complaining about sweating had only got me groped I decided not to even bring it up again as an excuse to get out of the clean up. But damn it, I swear I was on the verge of lethal sweating- I could see it written on my death certificate: Death By Sweating. Of course the dogs were of no help- Isabella sat by the door wanting back into the air conditioning and Emmy was still on patrol for geckos or anything else that dared to move.
With the mess finally cleaned up, I noticed that not only had it not rained, the sun was still shining brightly. We could have gone to the beach instead risking my life by damn near sweating to death.
Hopefully these severed branches will soon be new plants-
Since I didn't die from sweating and lived to see another day, Sunday we headed to the beach. Beautiful day! Look at this photo I took from our parking spot as we arrived. Doesn't it look like a painting of paradise?
Unfortunately this is the closest we got to the beach. Before we walked to the beach, ROM decided he needed to move the car over a bit from a big puddle so we could get in and out without having to step in it. He turned the key and nothing happened. He turned it again... and nothing. He fiddled under the hood with the cables and mechanical shit, tried to start it... nothing. So he called AAA and they were to notify a local roadside repair. They said someone would contact us within 20 minutes.
After 20 minutes had passed, I returned to the car to sit as ROM paced and muttered under his breath. I was bored and restless so I told him to give me the keys, then I reached over, turned the key and the car started! Thank you baby jezzuz! I yelled at ROM to get in and we headed home in case the car decided not to start again. After we got home and turned the car off, sure enough it wouldn't start. ROM made arrangements for it to be towed to our mechanic the following morning. Yet another beach day lost. (The car is now back home and made a complete recovery with a new starter)
ROM had Monday off but he didn't even suggest we go to the beach. He knows I don't go anywhere in his pick up truck other than Lowe's or Home Depot. Instead of wasting the day we decided to go to the community pool, get some sun and swim a few laps. There is one small group of people that go to the pool every day- not to swim or sun but to stand in the water or bob around with a noodle and talk. And talk... and talk... and talk... They talk about who is sick, who died, who is having surgery, which all you can eat buffet is the best and cheapest, what they had for lunch and what they plan to have for supper. Sometimes there is even some good gossip which was the case yesterday. Someone asked if "Tom" had been to the pool recently and someone else replied that he hadn't been around since he got into it with "Sue". One of the women spoke up and said that "Sue" started it. "Tom" is the guy that ROM and refer to as "The Cub"- he is married to the The Cougar down the street from us. He looks to be in his early 30s and she looks close to 60. Anyway, according to the pool peeps: Sue had brought a portable stereo to the pool and was playing music. Tom went home and returned with his iPod and ear buds. As he walked by Sue he pointed to his earbuds and said he had his own music... and all hell broke loose. One of the pool guys said Tom said the F word at Sue. But one of the women said that wasn't true and that she was there when it all went down and that Sue said the F word first (she added "you know how Sue throws that F word around, tsk tsk"). As they debated who uttered the F word first, they all agreed that Tom took it too far. But to my disappointment they never said exactly what Tom did that took things too far.
I knew it was time to go when I heard one of the guys complaining about his leg. Someone asked him why he was getting out of the water and he said because he had a psychiatric leg. One of the women asked him if he meant a sciatic leg and he just mumbled yeah, something like that. As I slipped my t shirt on I told ROM it was time to go. We avoided making eye contact with each other until after we had told everyone goodbye, wished them a lovely evening and had walked beyond hearing range.
that's when we looked at each other and burst out laughing like a pair of hyenas sucking up laughing gas. Just as we would stop laughing one of us would look at the other and say "Oh my psychiatric leg!" and we would laugh hysterically again. And that, kids, is how you get through a shitty weekend- you find some old people to make you laugh.