So-o-o Over The Hump

Yup!  You read me right.  O-V-E-R it.  And in my present circumstances, that could mean ju-u-ust about anything.

The endless OCD planning and preparations for my daughter's graduation (I'm sure everyone is over THAT particular hump): if I never address 100 envelopes for announcements or cards again in this lifetime, it will be too soon.  Photo books and slideshows which required poring through 20,000 digitized images AND scanning a hundred or so 35mm images into said digital state.  Renting a rather costly party tent to ensure a comfortable venue for the guests.  Ummm . . . mmmmmm, taste-testing six gourmet cakes prepared to my exacting standards by Valesca Paiva of ViBella Chocolates and Cakes for sampling was NOT a hardship nor a hump -- sign me up for seconds.  Most especially that moist and flavorful strawberry cake with the delicious South American cream in between layers.  Did I mention those six generously-sized mini-cakes made their way back to my home as part of the deal?  In the famous phraseology of Sarah, "OH, YEAH!"

The party tent: OOH, AAH!

The Personalized "Charm Cake"

Our graduate is back row, second from left, all the HAIR!

The cans of Sherwin-Williams 'Moody Blue' and unnamed handsome soft brown emptied in the painting of the stairwell and hallway AND the formal dining room (a space utilized primarily for the informal folding of endless laundry of which I'm ALSO over).  Including that viscous paint which spilled forth from atop the high ladder where sister-in-law Shelley stood and onto the carpeted stairs, my head, and several painted surfaces not within the scope of the project.  Though, it's safe to say that my now sainted mother-in-law (she'll undoubtedly have to be canonized for selfless acts of domestic labor after this visit) would be the painter in need of a vacation from this unintentional vocation!  It must be stated that the end result DOES rest most easily on the eyes and my from-red-to-blue dining room walls still my antsy self into, GASP, a state of veritable relaxation.

Blue By You

Stairy-Eyed!

My lists upon lists which I taped to the kitchen cabinet doors for my unsuspecting out-of-town family company-sous chefs (if it wasn't for Starbucks and surreptitious cocktails, they may have staged a coup).
FOR EXAMPLE, in no particular order:

The Listmaker

1.  Ice for coolers: watermelon/packaged drinks/for cups
2.  Final decorations in place: fill helium balloons; set balloons in cake table corner  
3.  Music CD to play in garage
4.  Candies in colored dishes (Swedish Fish/Red Vines/Twizzlers/Sour Patch Kids); set on each table
5.  Salty snacks emptied in large serving bowls
6.  Cake delivery/pay Valesca
7.  Green chili
8.  Grill meats: chicken and tri-tip/wrap in foil, settle/slice
9.  Make simple salsa/serve with ranch on tortilla sandwiches
10. Mix iced tea/Tang
11. Grate cheese/cut lettuce
12. Plates/silverware/napkins
13. White Queso dip -- Sarah's FAVE!
14. HAVE FUN!  (This directive was intended more for me than anyone else, as they'd all been enjoying themselves since they got off the plane.) 

Such handsome prep cooks!

"Bubble, bubble! Toil and boil!" 

What about roofing contractors who enter the premises with enormous grins plastered on their faces as they reassure you that they'll take care of everything, but WHO is your insurance carrier and what does the paperwork say they'll cover?  Is there NO ONE capable of simply taking a thorough look-see at the roof and leaving a bid of the damages they detect without attempting to swindle us poor homeowners in the process?!  Oh, and the various tree experts who wax philosophical about giant cranes versus compact climbers and tricky access upping cost and which arboreal ancients they recently brought down for such-n-such county via their singular expertise.  (How does $3,600 without boring out the stump sound?!)  I'm most definitely NOT over mourning the loss of my elm tree as she departs from her century-old roots limb by limb, dying leaf by dying leaf (how many folks ever experience both spring AND fall on their deciduous trees in their back yard, I ask you?)

The cardinal ALSO mourns the dying old elm

One of the better tree experts in action at a neighbor's house

Without a doubt, 90 degree-plus days spent in out-of-town venues watching game after game of baseball as played by 15 year-old boys, regardless of the breathtaking catches and earsplitting bat cracks as singles explode into assisted runs across home plate, sits high on the list of #1 over-the-hump contenders.  No amount of Gatorade, Vitamin Water, purified water, watermelon, Frogg Toggs cooling chilly pad towels, or sudden late-spring downpours can validate the quantities of pure unadulterated SWEAT which emanates from every single pore, those obvious and visible and those NOT so visible but all the more obvious.  Ugh.  UGH.  DOUBLE UGH!  The only thing more I can say about that subject is thank the Lord for inexpensive patterned cotton summer dresses and SPF 50!

Zach laying down a nice bunt!

His third crossing of home plate in today's AM game!

But -- and this is a BIG 'but' here (not to be confused with full-sized rumps of which I am the bearer of one such physical accoutrement) -- the single most annoying hump . . . the hump which has me soaring above it with king-sized O-V-E-R letters trailing behind me in stardust . . . involves Hank the Wonder Pup.

I don't mind bagging pile after pile of his often cicada-laden defecatory waste.  I don't mind the endless repetitions of SIT and STAY and LAY and STAND and COME, Hank, COME.  I don't even mind cleaning up the shocking number of short white hairs which leave his body in droves at any given moment in the day.  What I DO mind is the alarming regularity with which I find myself barking with as much authority and alpha-dog dignity as is possible in this particular situation, "Hank! NO HUMPING, HANK!  No humping your bed, puppy!  Step AWAY from the doggie bed."  Yes, folks, Hank the Wonder Pup has discovered the joy of displaying his emerging puppy power by dominating his poor unassuming beanbag bed.  And it's IN THE KITCHEN where he spends a majority of his indoor time right now.  The last time I used the word 'hump' with such vigor and concentration, I was still in pigtails and bell bottoms and missing a baby tooth or two!  My hope centers upon the little surgical procedure he'll undergo in about two months.  Perhaps this will alleviate his urge to express his affection and prowess in so publicly visible a manner?

Approved Inoffensive Bed Use #1

Approved Inoffensive Bed Use #2

Approved Inoffensive Bed Use #3

Otherwise, Hank's mommy may apply her good ol' American ingenuity to discovering new and creative uses for the ever-popular shock collar.  Because I'm certain that MY personal allotment for uttering "NO HUMPING, Hank!" ran over, that's O-V-E-R, about a week ago.