Mr. Mole makes me nervous.

The brick men showed up early, as in 8 AM early, and started this obnoxiously loud machine that pats the dirt down smooth. I think water was involved. Remember, this is Saturday. I think I'll be making Cherry Cupcakes to distribute to the neighbors every Saturday for the rest of my life.

I look out the bathroom window a few hours later and see Mike standing where the cement part of the driveway ends and the bricks are supposed to begin, where we park the cars. He stands there so long looking down and also talking to one of the men, that I decide I had better throw on some clothes and high tail it down there.

Guess what? The "seconds" bricks that came in from Ohio, all 90,000 of them (really, that's how many the landscaper bought, we use a fraction of those, just a thousand and some), they are diverse sizes. Meaning. Meaning, when you try to do a herringbone pattern or a basketweave pattern, you are in big trouble because the short bricks leave great big gaps here and there (because the shorter bricks are randomly laid). There were several sample patterns laid out and it was not pretty, trust me.

They were going to finish all the brick work today. Instead, we stood around and discussed a long time what might be some options, because, after all, what do you do with huge crates of bricks sitting not only in your yard, but mooching off the neighbor's yard, too? Mike and I and the main brick man talked. Because the Landscape Guy, the Ultimate Authority, is in Colorado hunting. Seriously groovy.

They could lay the bricks like a brick street, just linear. BORING. Not only boring but kindergartenish. Then we thought of laying them linear but diagonally. WEIRD. Don't know if I could embrace that...ever. Of course, being weird is my specialty, so I might have to sleep on that one. Then I thought of extracting the red bricks and doing the driveway with them. And then another color for the sidewalk. Because all the reds are the same size, at least, and all the oranges are the same size, but not the same size as the reds, etc. Several shades of bricks going on, including blueish gray. This way I could still have the far superior herringbone pattern. But it would involved a lot of sorting of bricks and I get the drift the guys wouldn't exactly adore that. They just like to grab the next brick and lay it down. I was informed that one of the helpers could lay 1,000 sq ft of bricks a day and another could lay 1,200 a day and the third guy wasn't as good as the other two. WHO KNOWS.

So, the men had to leave because we have to see what Landscape Guy has to say. I'm guessing he won't want to ship 8,000 tons of bricks back to Ohio. Wouldn't you guess the same thing?

Okay, so all this happened at 12 noon and my day was a big zero from then on. And, of course, that was when my day started, 12 noon. So there you go. This is called, in NC, a Flaw In the Slaw. Frankly, I've very curious to see what LG has to say. I told the brick man to go to the beach for the afternoon. He's from Brazil, btw, and he is all business. I tried to make him laugh and was only moderately successful. He said, I want to work, I was going to finish this job today. I said, Maybe LG will give you a bonus for this surprise FItS (Flaw In the Slaw).

But I like man from Brazil. Yesterday DT-s-D came by when I wasn't home. She tramped through the dirt the long way to the front door. I know this because when I came home there was a nice pile of dirt on the doormat. But we've all been leaving our share of the earth all over the floors, actually. I also noticed a full roll of paper towels positioned by the front doormat.

So I called Mike, Why is there a roll of paper towels by the front door? I don't know, he says, Maybe Robby put it there. Now, obby does like to attack paper towel rolls, but this roll was standing on end, intact, and no claw tears in it. Honestly, Robby did not put that roll there, just absurd. I like to know why a roll is sitting there, 'cause I'm always afraid someone wee-wee'd in the grout.

Next, I call DT-s-D. Hi, did you set a roll of paper towels by the front door? Yes. Aha, what do you know? She said, I was swiping them. Oh. I suggest, I thought maybe you were going to wipe off your dusty feet. She replies, Oh no, you should just be happy I took my shoes off. So I am, so I am.

But that was a bunny hike. DT-s-D also mentioned that the workmen looked at her like she was a Martian yesterday. And here is why I like Brazil man. In-between discussing seconds bricks that, btw, I was told would have variations in color, which is acceptable, size variations, which is not acceptable, never being breathed, he said, Was that your sister over here yesterday? (Boy, that was a bad sentence.) Heh, heh, heh, we won't mention this to DT-s-D, will we? It's not a disparagement of her anyway, but still... I said, No, that was my daughter. He said, She looks like your sister. Maybe he should have put it another way, You look like her sister. Older sister, mind you. By only 30 years.

I might be coming down with something, me is too tired behind the eyes and ultra grouchy. I'm saving my Dr. Deb story for tomorrow, it's kind of a classic. This brick thing, naturally, has me partially disturbed.

You know what a blog really is, at least my blog? A diary. That's just exactly what it is. And a diary for public consumption, no less. Thank goodness only a handful of people read it, and you're all my friends. Whew!

Heck, how come it's already 1 AM? Need to go make a dent in The Help, I sort of only read about a page a day lately. I'm halfway through, and have been for some time. Help!

Buried In Useless Bricks,
KEM

Mr. Mole has been asked to please wait. I had no time for him today. But there is a very good reason for that, which I shall elaborate upon tomorry. If has to do with the fact that my friend Dr. Deb and I should, under no circumstances, ever become anyone's social secretary.

I will never have to worry about someone engraving on my tombstone, SHE WAS A GREAT HOUSEKEEPER. Do you hear that, Mr. Mole? I know you are trying, but I just want you to comprehend who and what you are dealing with.

I'm typing all my letters backwards, so that means time to pack it all in.

Have a splendid weekend everyone! KEM

Hi. My Moleskin(e) Diary told me to wash the dark clothes today.

Okay, so I get them ready, squirt whatever needs to be squirted, and load them into the machine. But I don't start the machine yet because I need to wash the dishes first. This has something to do with not running two appliances at once because our hot water pipe is too skinny, thanks to our handyman. Besides, this gives the squirt time to molder.

Later, I go to start the washer but first I notice more black clothes in the bottom basket. See, I have these four baskets that slide on a rack, one stacked on top of the other. Can you picture this? I'm not real sharp tonight, you're on your own.

Now, I know that I had emptied the black clothes basket. I don't know much these days, but I do know that. So, my reasoning is, A) Mike threw a black something in there while I wasn't looking in the last few minutes. Or B) Mike threw a black something in there while I wasn't looking in the last few minutes. And so on.

Next, I go to grab the black something to add it to the wash. But the black something comes alive and turns its little self and I see a surprised white face.

Robby, none other. I promise you, when he is curled up asleep, none of his white shows. Not his paws, they get tucked underneath. Not his face, it's buried in his neck. Not his underside, either, it's all wrapped up in black. If he's on something black, like his supposed kitty bed that he uses once every 3 months, you simply cannot see him. At all. He knows how to become one with the background. No, he doesn't blend in, he becomes one with it. Like I said, you can't see him. At all. He may as well not be a Tuxedo when he's sleeping. Because his white is as good as not there...utterly concealed.

Well. I think I made that point. But, just so you know, when I was typing, Not his underside either...I had a thought pop into my head that was to be the next sentence. But then a second thought popped in on top of the first thought and since the second thought went with the sentence I was currently writing, I decided to finish that, the part about all wrapped up in black. And just that fast, I lost the first thought that was to be the next sentence. It's killing me, I can't get it back, it's gone for good, and it was way better than all wrapped up in black. It had something to do with the white hair, which is swallowed up in black. Oh, right, I made that point.

My Moleskin(e) was busy telling me what to do today. This is the first day I used it. I made my list in Mole the night before. It went as follows:

Dark load (done, see above.)

Put china away (not done, this is Christmas china, BTW, sitting on the kitchen counter since...Christmas, taking up prime real estate.)

Remove tablecloth (done, I am switching to placemats because I'm tired of tablecloths -- but Robby thinks placemats are great landing pads, 'cause they slide, those placemats {and Robby} were on the floor in two seconds flat -- plus, I want to see my pretty birch wood table for a change.)

Take green tablecloth and cupcakes to Mom (done, see, I have this green tablecloth from Target that my mom admires over and over, then I made the significant discovery that the very same soft green tablecloth, sort of like an almost tiny check pattern, is on the Andy Griffith show, in the later color episodes, it's identical, I'm so proud -- however, this cloth is too short for my table, I use a table leaf, two of them {I said it that way 'cause I didn't know if it was leafs or leaves} at all times 'cause I don't know where else to put them, so my mom, who has been wanting a cloth, is getting it, which is easier than me sewing on ribbon or something to make it long enough for my table, which would never happen in a million years, me sewing.)

Hangers to cleaners (done and Jazzi got two Milkbones in the process.)

Pile papers on desk (done, now I no longer have a collage but rather one neat orderly pile...dealing with the neat orderly pile goes on tomorrow's Mole.)

Copy CDW emails (oops, not done, transferred to Morrow's Mole, I WUV U, CDW.)

Mop kitchen floor (done if I ever finish this blog.)

Cupcakes to new neighbor (done, I'm way ahead of schedule, he moved in only 2 months ago.)

Isn't Mole wonderful? I do what the Mole says. Well, I do most of what the Mole says. As punishment for not doing ALL the mole says, I must start my day tomorrow attacking the Christmas china. That's right, it's a fight and the china has me hidden in a bunker in fright. I have to vacuum and wipe down the open shelf over the refrigerator where this china sits all year except for Christmas dinner and then the however many months on the kitchen counter until I rally my troops. Then I have to rewash the china, because, after all, it's been sitting there collecting dust EXACTLY two months. All of this, the enemy, intimidates me.

I'm sure most of you are dialing the psychiatric ward as you read.

Tomorrow is scary, not only is Mole standing over me with a stick for the china, but Mole says I must vacuum and put away our suitcases from the trip to Germany, which was OVER two months ago. If that made your jaw drop, this will make your teeth fall into your lap...my suitcases from my trip to see my sister in September are still hanging around with their mouths gaping open. And these are NOT the suitcases we took to Germany. Our suitcases are very chummy with all the huge wasted floor space in master bedroom. Robby enjoys napping in them. Suitcases are black and so is Robby, 'member? Robby can go incognito at any given moment.

Okay, Mole made me a half-way success today. AND, I did something not on the Mole list. I ground the coffee beans Mike doesn't like and he took them to work to share with all the unsuspecting. That, my friends, is one less item on the kitchen counter. And I've almost got the coffee grinder cleaned up, I do it in stages. First, I tap out the remaining grounds. Then I go check my email. Then I get a brush and whisk out more grounds. Then I go tend to Mole. Then I still have to get a damp paper towel and wipe out the residue. I looked this up online and found the instructions, 'cause I don't know where my Owner's Manual is. I was very proud of finding a downloadable Owner's Manual online. Now, you know I've cleaned the grinder before, but it's been a while. And I was right, you can't immerse it in water. But I'm the type who machine washes pure wool sweaters and they come out like dolls' clothes.

Anyway, I am learning to break chores down into micro steps. It works for me.

This is the weirdest blog. I'm TIRED because every day while I'm still sleeping, I'm really anticipating/waiting for the sidewalk workmen to show up. After their Buzzy Bee Monday, not a whole lot has happened. On Tuesday two men dug a hole for a couple hours, including lunch on the back of their truck. Wednesday...a total vacuum (I just must love that word), meaning, no one showed up. Today, six white plastic pipes were deposited on top of the dirt. Please, grab the smelling salts. People...tomorrow is Friday and we all know what that means.

I'm hoping to dream of the sentence that poofed into my mind and then poofed out again, like a genie. Lost thoughts, it happens to me A LOT.

LOT A LOVE,
KEM

How is it that at 10:20 PM I am sitting here at the computer, all chores completed hours and hours ago, and all that is left is to peel hard boiled eggs?

Furthermore, how is it that I did all this, all this including washing the dog, cleaning the shower, changing the sheets and washing the litter boxes outside, among other things, but those I am the proudest of, on exactly 1 hour and 30 minutes sleep last night?

And, I visited my parents and Muffy AND supervised (meaning, I had one eye on it all day) the demolition of our now former gang plank walkway (YAY! for history), railroad ties (Roach Motels), wall surrounding ug-ee patio off the dining room (at front of the house, naturally) and inferior quality shrubs and decorative trees (eyesores one and all).

The day started like this. Got in bed around 4:30 AM, I'll tell you why in a minute because it is not my usual reason I go to bed when the rest of the eastern USA is fixing to get up. Stared at the same page of The Help for about a half hour. Gave up and tried to sleep, but stomach hurt.

Finally fell asleep at 7 AM. At 8:30 AM Mike comes rushing upstairs to announce the work crew is here and that I should get up and see to things. Now you have to understand, we weren't told exactly which day the work crew would show up.

So, trying to bury the fact that I just had 1.5 hours of sleep, I peek out the upstairs bathroom window and see trucks galore up and down the street and Hispanic men swarming the yard like flies on your picnic hamburger.

The next thing is, they are tearing up the yard. HARK! We can't swing doing this whole project in one fell swoop and have divided it into Part A and Part B. I'm here to tell you, we are starting with Part A, the hardscape, and the crew was delving into Part B, the landscape. Totally backwards and months out of synch.

Well, good, how great will this be, to have a dirt naked yard for the next 9 months?

So luckily, Mike comes back in and I order him back out there this instant and tell them to knock it off. Then I call Mr. Todd, Landscaper Extraordinaire, rated A+ by BBB, and say, Hello, your crew is tearing up our yard.

And that's how my day, on 1.5 hours sleep, started.

But I was not deterred. Sleep was impossible now, not only due to the noise factor but because I had to have that evil eye on. I've mentioned several times to various people wandering about, DO NOT CUT DOWN OUR CAMPHOR TREE (which only MAKES our house, it's front and center in the yard, huge and impressive and beautiful) AND DO NOT CUT DOWN OUR OAK TREES (lined up along the edge of yard and alley and simply essential to my well being).

So, I jumped into work and kept at it and here I am. I'm sure you're not believing this.

BUT, last night, see, Mike and I made a deal. I want a new kitten so Robby can have a playmate (since my initial idea for Jazzi and Robby to be pals hasn't materialized, really, in animal years, Jazzi could be a young grandmother to Robby).

So, guess what? Mike says, You can have a new kitten IF you clean and organize the whole house. That's right, the WHOLE house.

So (love that word), I stayed up all night and started organizing and cleaning the whole house, the first three hours of which involved sorting and reading ancient newspapers.

Mike thinks he's so clever, he knows I will never get a new kitten now.

But he'd better think again and think fast while he's at it. He'd better wipe that smirk off his face and reorganize his confidence, 'cause it's gone take a beating. That's all I got to say (reading too much of The Help, I'm gone start talking like them 1960's colored gals, it's very catching -- don't yell at me, that's what they call themselves in the book, it's how it was).

All right, I've left my eggs too long, they gone be tough to peel.

Hey, you oughta see Robby having his new harness fitted by me. It ain't working out none too good.

Tomorrow is another day, I take it.

Til then,
KEM