Promises, Promises . . .

So, I have been abducted by aliens from the planet Uranus. No, it is not just a dream and I am not trying to scare you. You have seen the alien spaceships, right? They are out there. Believe.

Interplanetary rockets aside, there was also a lunar eclipse last night, which was completely due to the aliens. It had nothing to do with the moon passing through a portion of the earth's shadow due to the fact that the sun, earth and moon are in planetary alignment. It is all about the aliens. From Uranus.

Anyhow, the cows aren't taking the bait, but they are not talking as of this posting either. We all know how much aliens love cows. I just wish it were the cows instead of me.

In closing, I'll be back soon; hopefully, without the cycloptic robot, 80-foot fart flames or any basic sort of alien anal-probing. That would just be bad. . . .

There's My Little Enchilada

So, I realize I've been ignoring this here blog for the last 2 weeks or so. I haven't found any wittiness on my part for quite sometime. Perhaps nothing funny has actually been done or said to me, which I find very hard to believe. Or maybe this blog is getting on my nerves. Are we losing one another? Blog relationships are tender and must be lavished with love, happiness and held ever so gently. I have done neither for quite some time.

I don't know what's going on here and frankly it does bother me.

Have I lost touch with the great blog-o-sphere? And why? Am I bored? I always know when one of my dogs, um. . . . so as not to incriminate her supreme damn cuteness. . . . um. . . . them. . . . , let's just say the name rhymes with "pixie". . . . is bored. She brings me a sock. No, she doesn't chew it, she'll just walk around the house with her most prized possession until one of us notices and takes it from her. It's usually the husbands, because for some odd reason his socks don't seem to make it to the dirty clothes hamper. It's another of his unexplained phenomenons, which I can't go into right now, but the husband also cannot deny this fact. Although he might try, it's the truth and nothing but the truth. I would never make up stories about him to get a laugh on my blog. Never. Anyway, when we take the sock from her she gets pretty melancholy. It's damn cute. One just can't resist the cuteness powers of Dixie. You have to play with her.

Unfortunately, I don't have such a behavior. Especially one that can so easily be remedied as a throwing a ball in a game of fetch. I mean, at least I haven't found myself walking around the house with the husbands dirty sock in my mouth. So, I can't say for sure that it's sheer boredom keeping me from blogging to my 7 readers. But it's not to say that I'm not keeping up with my 7 readers' blogs and I must mention here that theirs have all been good as of late. So, why can't I blog lately? This mystery is even astounding to me.

I got to thinking. . . .

Here's what I consider what might be the situation up in my hizizile.

A few weeks back I was asked through the husband for my resume. So, I spent a week putting that together. I spent another couple of days trying to do some recognisance detail on this here company who asked for my resume. If I was going to send someone my detailed work history, I'd best be armed. For example, where is it - what is it - why is it - who is it - how is it? You know, all the important stuff. Plus, I needed to know what position I was applying for. Sometimes beggars need to be choosy. I wouldn't do very well on a street corner or dancing with poles. I'd like to use me brains and me edumication too. So, with some information, albeit small information, I was armed to write a cover letter, which took another few days. And sent it on to the person who originally asked the husband for it.

Not really thinking that anything could come of it, I went on with my life by continuing not to blog. But I received a phone call that same day asking me to come in for an interview. Now, let me explain my work history as of late. Officially, for the last year, I've been known as the housewife. That's it. I have no clock, no boss (no, the husband doesn't count as I am the alpha here - Amazonian Princess, people. Duh!), no deadlines (okay, maybe the paying of the bills), no assignments, no reporting to duty on time, no nuttin'. And, no, it is not as quaint as it sounds. People have often looked at me with jealousy, but also with disdain. I have received a lot of, "I would love to be you and not have to work!" As well as, "so, you don't do anything?" accompanied by a look of disdain as if I just caught the Ebola virus and fully plan to pass it on to said perpetrator by planting a full on kiss right on their mouth. People have even suggested that I give birth to children in order to give me something to do. Seriously? I should have children so that I am not bored? What a fantastic idea. Why didn't I think of that? Bring the kid on, I need amusement here in our Longhorn city!

All this to say, it is a catch .22. It is boring not being productive, contributing, dealing with only things that have to do with all-things-housely or getting out of the house and doing something for society. (Volunteer work doesn't cut it either - that's a whole other can o' worms that I'm not opening right now.) It also is hard to give up some acquired freedom. You know, the whole by-product of not working. Freedom has its perks. One such benefit revolves around the morning. I'm not - nor have I ever been - a morning person. It's nice not having to wake up to an alarm clock at 5:30 AM; okay, so maybe it's 6:30 AM - whatever, it's the morning and all the same to moi. It is nice being with my dogs all day - but even they cause me crazy-time too. It's so freaking hot in this Longhorn city of ours that staying outside all day is not awesomely feasible. A person would melt trying to do so - just as soon as they burnt their nose hairs off as well as all remaining bodily hair. I don't have a beach where I can spend my days slurping dirty martini's while swimming lazily in the ocean. *I wish* It is also nice to know one can jump on an airplane for a bit of reprieve; a vacation, if you will, without having permission to actually be able to go on vacation. Another perk of freedom.

***To bring some of my newly acquired 7 listeners up to date on the work history of moi, before this past year I worked very part-time in our old apartment complex, which in turn covered our rent each month. It was a pretty sweet deal if you ask me. Anyway, if you want to be totally bored you can just read here to find out the rest of my Greek tragedy. . . . er. . . . history. It's uninteresting. I'll leave that up to you. But you can't say you weren't warned.

Now, since I believe I have fairly given you notice, let's get back to the subject at hand. Moi! And my non-blogging status. Yes, I went to the interview, which resulted in a 2nd interview, which resulted in a job offer. It is a job I can do and would most likely enjoy doing. I liked the people I interviewed with and I like the company's philosophies. I'm pretty sure I'd like the job if even to just get back into the work world once again. Upon my hesitation at the job offer, more money was offered. Who doesn't like money? But this isn't the point. This is.

I sit here now realizing that some of my lack of sleep (take last night, for example, I have a total of 4.5 hours of blissful nothingness under my belt) and lack of blogging are to be blamed for this job thing. I know most people do it and I myself never thought I would not work (it just kinda happened), but I have to say I am a bit apprehensive about the whole situation. Back to the daily grind, schedules, appointments, research and alarm clocks. Hello to new friends, new brain power, new money, new clothes (of course!) and new endeavors. Goodbye lazy mornings, lazy daytime gym workouts when no one hogs the machines, lazy pajama wearing (all day - good sirs - I. do. not.), lazy freedom, lazy blogging and lazy walks with the pups. And yet, there is something to be said for making your own paycheck and using your own brain as well as doing something for myself for a change. Something that is just mine. Something of worth. I'm not really skilled in the art of nothingness. After a year at home, I know this much about me.

Finally, I've made a ton of pro and con lists. I don't think I have anymore. I've talked, debated, bullied (okay, not really), conversed, bantered, rapped and tete-a-tete'd with the husband over this entire situation. He, obviously, wants me to work, but more importantly, he wants moi to be happy. He even started helping out more around the house just to prove that the house will not collapse or implode upon my absence from it. But regardless and on top of that, I have to make the decision to work or not to work by next Monday by either accepting or not accepting the position? I am at some losses here. I need some sage advice.

Shall we take a poll?

Trimmed Nose Hair is Part of the Job

The husband, working hard to dig those holes.



Chobie supervises. Mmmmrph.



The one tree has flowers. Many do not.



Bush number 9 - only 44 more to go. . . .

Update on the yard work:

• We bought 50 pieces of sod. We need 200 more.
• We've planted 18 of the 53 bushes. Only 35 more to go.
• I've halted my embargo on Starbucks. I heart grande non-fat vanilla lattes once more.
• One tree now has a garden below it. One more awaits.
• One planter has been planted. 4 more to go + 20.
• 25,000 visits to the garden shop. 25,001 visits to the hardware shop.
• The sprinkler system was dug up and checked by the husband. It will now be buried and remain as is.
• Have managed to continue our workouts. No, no not together.
• It is suppose to start raining at 2 PM today. That'll be fun.
  
• Found more fire ant hills than wanted or needed. Still don't understand the validity of these creatures.
  
• 7 bags of yard waste hauled. Only 50 more to go.
  
• More money spent on lawn/yard than a 4-day vacation. Priceless.