Now about my fence. Last weekend I succeeded in digging all the holes (by hand) and sinking and cementing them all into place. I am especially proud that I was able to achieve this without beaning anyone in the head. After the Rosie incident,
I was especially diligent in keeping the little ones at bay. I did this by screaming. I'm sure that my neighbors were thinking "What the Hell?" especially since I always put on a nice pleasant neighborly front. But last weekend I could be heard shrieking: "Get out of here" "Move!" "What IS your Problem" "Get away!" "NOW! OUT!" so that is how I spent most of last weekend, covered in dirt and sweat, screaming and trying not to breath in concrete fumes. I mixed the cement mixture in a big bucket and added water with a garden hose, which came in handy at squinting inquisitive little dogs. Blue laid up on the back stoop and the little ones mostly sunned themselves on the chaise lounge or picnic table.
And Ralphie? Well, I left Ralphie at the boarding kennel.
I just couldn't deal with his high drama and maintain my sanity. That and the fact that I was afraid I might "bean" him on purpose. (Just kidding).
So now I have the posts up. Standing like Sentinels around my crumbling patio and looking at me with the question - "What's next?"
If you know me at all, you know that I have a HUGE problem with making decisions. Well, maybe that's not entirely true.
I CAN decide but I just keep changing my mind about what I prefer. I like too many things and everyday I favor something else.
It's kinda like my hair. I remember several years ago when I was out with a friend and someone we both knew casually, came up to us and acted as though they had never met me. Afterwards I commented that I thought they were SO RUDE. But my friend had just laughed and said that they had probably not recognized me. He said "You are a chameleon".
A chameleon? What did he mean by THAT!?
And he answered that it wasn't a bad thing, it was just who I was.
I thought about it, he was right. My weight has "fluctuated" several times. (I like that word, "fluctuated" much better than FAT, kinda THIN, Good Curvy and Bad Curvy) and then there's my hair. I've had every color and length. That's why I think my Drivers License is such a joke. I mean really? What color and WHAT weight? Heck, I'd change the age too if I could! Anyway...
There was a time where I actually went by the nickname "RED".
The old neighbor man used to yell over to me.
"What ya doing over there Red?"
"You got glasses on while you're running that saw, Red?"
"Where ya get THAT dog Red?"
(Now, that's ANOTHER post but you get the idea.) and then I also went by the nickname "118" for a while. That was back in the day when I was working at a neighborhood bar part-time to make ends meet. Some customer had commented on my dark hair and how they wished they had dark hair like mine and I told them they could. "It's Nice & Easy 118" and one of the regulars started calling me "118" which looking back in retrospect, I am certainly glad I wasn't called "Nice & Easy"!
Then there's my summer hair. I'm a firm believer that, for myself, if I have short hair, it must be blond.
(ah, yeah - not me, actually Heather Mills. Hate HER but love her hair!)If it's not blond it just doesn't look right on me. Last summer it was short and blond and then I let it grow. In the fall I made it brown and then this summer it's just been a wild curly mess and blond and grey...............
I've thought about going grey, a nice silvery grey but to do that in a hurry I would have to cut it short and well, you know my rule on THAT.
So, how did I get here? Talking about hair when this post is about my fence.
Oh, yes. How I can't commit to any decision and stick with it.
MY dream fence would be sleek and modern.
To go with my RETRO but MODERN home.
But since my house isn't really RETRO but more VINTAGE, I need something more quaint.
Something to go with my COTTAGE (weed) garden and FOLK ART mailbox.
Maybe something funky and artsy.
I would adore a wrought iron fence
but little heads and mostly likely whole bodies would fit through those bars. And the house would need to be brick to carry it off. Preferably light brick in a French Architechture style.....
In my dream world, I would ADORE this.
Back to reality.
I'll keep you updated and SOMEDAY show some photos.
Probably going to be a bit of a wait though....