I took this picture today of a blossom on our Okame Cherry tree.  A blossom!  On a cherry tree!  In February!  It’s hard to contain the excitement, people.

I must also boast about the fact that it was 70 degrees today here in Georgia—meaning that it was way too nice to be cooped up inside the house watching reruns of Leave it to Beaver.  Not that I would do that or anything, but there is a LITB marathon on TV Land at the moment and GR is deeply engrossed.  Anyhow, it was so beautiful outside that I took some time to throw the tennis ball to my poor, deprived brat-dog, Bindi…

Oh, that Bindi Sue.  She’s a dear.  And poor Billy Ray, he just sat perched on the deck watching the action below.

Oh, that Billy Ray.  He’s a fun-loving thing…as long as the fun-loving involves a treat and a nap.  Or reading Meghan’s blog, A Mom of Two Boys…

Anyhow, I’m sure that the fates are laughing at me right now, and Georgia will end up with a foot of snow at some point in March.  Oh, well.  At least I had today…

Be that as it may, a large, cavernous space opened up just a few buildings down from where we were located, so the mass effort to move all 100-some-odd employees (and I do mean odd) took place last weekend.  Luckily, I was not involved in the actual move, but I did take time out of my Saturday to unpack my belongings, hook up my PC, and do some general fawning over my new cubicle.  Yes, fawning.  I have a window seat, people.  The window faces the back parking lot, yet LOOK!  A window!

And in addition to a window to the outside, I also have a window between my cubicle and Sophie’s.  While I’m not exactly fond of this particular window (it’s pointless), I can at least spy on Sophie when she’s not looking…

And finally, here’s the space where Lulu deciphers and writes technical crap for a living…

In addition to this move, we have a couple of new security policies.

• We are required to go in and out of the building using a man-trap door.  Yes, I said a man-trap.  It’s too complicated to understand, and unless a shirtless Maksim Chermokovskiy is trapped in the door, I have no interest in explaining.
• We are required to wear a photo ID badge at all times.  Whoever made the badges did not know how to properly resize picture files, so our chins and foreheads are extremely elongated to the point of I could wear anyone else’s badge and no one would know the difference.
• We now have a strict Internet usage policy.  What Internet usage has to do with our move, I’ll never know, but I’ll be sure to vent about that in my next post.  Because I’m a complainer.  And I like to complain about policies.  Especially ones involving the restriction of checking my incredibly shrinking blog stats or Facebook twenty times a day.

At least I have a window.  Hell, at least I have a job…

Related post:  Thirteen Things That Bug Lulu About Living in Cubeville

Bindi enjoyed lying in the sun…

(Try not to notice the torn screen.  It makes for a easy dog door from the kitchen to the backyard when the door is open.  Our dogs rule the house.)

The cherry trees in our backyard are in bloom…

We grilled steaks on the BBQ…

Life is good.

I’m on a quasi-vacation, y’all!  Actually, I‘m here at my mother’s house in Tampa for two reasons—1) to visit over the Easter weekend so that I can eat ham and  2) so that I can drive my grandparents (who also have a home here in Florida) back to their home in Georgia.  And just so you know, I am dealing with a barrel of fears this weekend.  Eight out of Lulu’s Thirteen Greatest Fears to be exact…

• I had to fly in an airplane to get here.  (I put a heavy object in my carry-on for knocking myself unconscious if needed.)
• I had to drive on the causeway bridge over deep waters to get to my mom’s house.  (My finger was on the window control the entire time.)
• I’m going to the beach tomorrow where it’s highly likely that I’ll come into contact with a shark or a fast boat.  (I’m staying in the car.)
• I’ll probably get bit by a mosquito while sipping Coronas on the patio.  (I brought an 84-ounce bottle of insect repellent.)
• I’ll be driving back to Georgia on Monday on I-75 where I’ll come into contact with at least 1,325 eighteen-wheelers.  (I’ll drive 50 mph in the far right lane.)
• Gus is still in Panama City, FL on Spring Break where he’ll be eating (choking?) and showering (drowning?).  And Lord only knows what else.

So, that about covers it.  I’ll take a Valium and all will be good with the world. 

But really, I’m blogging today so that I can participate in the Flashback Friday meme that’s going around the blogosphere.  And because it’s Good Friday, I want to share with you a photo of my parents, my sister, and me (I’m the shrimp on the right) taken on Easter day, 1977.  Please note the lovely corsages.

Normally on Flashback Friday, a person would go into great detail about said flashback.  And I did have a story all mapped out in my mind.  However, considering that it’s 1:20am, my brain is mush, and I can muster up the strength only to post the picture at this time.  Sorry!  Lulu needs sleep.

But, I do want to wish you all a very joyful Easter this weekend! 

And please excuse my non-participation in Women are Fantastic Friday and Saturday Photo Hunters this week.  I’m on vacation, people!

So, our patio, which has yet to be constructed, is the cause of this Great Patio Debate to which I refer.  You see, because I am a dictator planner/coordinator, I like to plan.  I like to coordinate.  I like to butt in.  Hence, I feel compelled to express my opinion about how this patio should be constructed.  And I understand that this is not my project, but I will have to walk on this patio every day for the rest of my life.  Because, as stated before, I will die in this house, people!   

Now, take note, I did not say that I want to express my opinion on how the patio pavers should be arranged or designed, I said how the patio should be constructed.  GR can design it any way that he wants.  I’m just trying to clue him in to the fact that there’s planning and pre-work involved with the excavation and laying of a foundation for a paver patio.  GR is just thinking of the big picture—how it’s going to look when finished.  I’m thinking of the drowning of the dogs when the flood occurs in the basement due to the ground not being sloped enough to carry the flood waters off the patio and away from the basement doors. 

GR thinks that he can just willy-nilly place pavers around the ground without

• using edge-restraint borders to hold the pavers in place.
• using a layer of gravel under the sand as a sturdy foundation and to help with drainage.
• measuring the depth of the base to ensure a proper slope. 

I know what needs to be done.  I have done the research, y’all!  Research that GR calls “scare tactics.”  Whatever.  Lord help me.  I need hot-buttered bread in large amounts.

So, as they say, debate is the death of conversation.  And my conversation with GR about this patio?  Is over.  And the debating has cut into my viewing of Dancing With the Stars.  So, I will no longer butt in.  Because Maksim Chmerkovskiy is my life right now, people, and I must focus.

But let it be known that I actually do have some faith in GR, and I’m sure that he will find a way to make this work.  Hopefully in a way that does not entail drowning the dogs.  So, I will document his journey with this patio project—whatever the outcome may be.  And I’ll start with the following photos.

Here’s the pavers being delivered into our backyard…

Here’s GR looking all proud that he’s starting on this debatable project…

And here is a potential outline of the patio…

Stay tuned for The Great Patio Debate–Part Deux.

The Great Pollen Bowl of 2007 has ravaged Atlanta, and I’m thinking that the city and surrounding suburbs need to be declared a disaster area.  We are covered in a blanket of yellow, and I can take it no longer.  So, I am writing an official letter to the President for relief funds.  And here it is…

I think that pretty much covers it.  Don’t you?

However, the Atlanta Allergy & Asthma Clinic states that it’s not the yellow pine pollen that causes all of the allergy problems, it’s the oak pollen.  Well, you could have fooled me, because just looking at the yellow pollen?  Makes me cough.  And for those of you not living in the Atlanta area, be thankful, because here’s the pollen count for the past several days.  Notice that Thursday’s pollen count was a mere 5937…<ah-choo!>

And, just in case you don’t believe how bad it really is, see it for your own eyes, y’all…

Pollen on my patio

Pollen on my car

Pollen on my dog

And, because my brain, nostrils, and lungs are completely filled with pollen causing me to be dizzy and disoriented, I declare that Mother Nature is my candidate for Women are Fantastic Friday.  I know, I know.  Mother Nature is not a real woman nor is she worthy of Fantastic Friday with all of this pollen floating around like snow.  Did I not just say that I was dizzy and disoriented, people?  But, I must say that she is ushering in the warmer weather, and for that I am grateful. 

Have a happy Friday, y’all!  And stay inside.

Image Sources:
Make your own card: http://www.blyberg.net/2006/09/06/roll-your-own-catalog-card/
Pollen count: http://remote.atlantaallergy.com/pollencount/

The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
 They call it easing the Spring.
      - Henry Reed, Lessons of the War

The early bees are not only assaulting and fumbling the flowers, they are assaulting and fumbling me!  Hence, this… 

No, GR is not Spring cleaning.  We have bees in the house, y’all!  Okay, only two.  But, bees!  In the house!  And I do not know where they came from or why they came to visit me on a Saturday.  They are unwelcome guests.  They are birds of prey. 

And, after they quietly entered the house, I cried and shrieked at them for a total of 10 minutes, until they retreated high onto the ceiling fan so that they could perch, flutter, and taunt me—far from my murderous reach.  Actually, GR’s murderous reach.  Because much like hot-buttered bread, I have sworn not to go within two feet of a bee.  Uh, make that a mile.

And because GR is full of manliness and bravado, he is not scared of bees.  But he takes great pleasure in listening to my tortured plea to do something about them.  So, as he calmly sits on the sofa eating Pringles, and as I frantically take cover in the front room with the two dogs, we have this conversation.  Through the small crack between the French doors…

• Me:  GR, please do something about the bees!
• GR:  Wha?  <crunch, crunch>  Oh, they’re fine.
• Me:  What do you mean oh, they’re fine?  I WANT THEM GONE!
• GR:  They’ll eventually go away.
• Me:  What the hell?  Go away where?!  They’re trapped in the freaking house!
• GR:  Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it.
• Me:  THEY COULD KILL US!  And the dogs!
• GR:  Two bees are not going to kill us.
• Me:  How do you know?  They could be some of those Africanized bees.
• GR:  What?
• Me:  You know…killer bees!
• GR:  Right.
• Me:  Well…have you ever been stung by a bee?!  It’s not pretty.
• GR:  All the time.
• Me:  What do you mean all the time?
• GR:  Lulu, I work outside.  I get stung by bees all the time.
• Me:  WELL GOOD FOR YOU!  NOW, KILL THE BEES!

So, GR puts down the can of Pringles, pulls out the ladder, wrangles the deadly duo down from the fan, and squishes them.  But not before I dash out of the front room to get a picture of the action at hand. 

And now ding-dong the bees are dead, the wicked bees are dead!  But because I am not content with merely throwing their lifeless bee-bodies into the trash can, I make GR flush them down the toilet, lest the Africanized killer bees are feigning death.  Because they are evil creatures that like to taunt me.

So, happy Spring, y’all!  And I know that you will all be pleased as pie to know that I have my new Lulu Wants to Know poll up.  So go vote, people!  Oh, and as for last week’s month’s poll, your biggest pet peeve (as voted by my hundreds of Lulu’s Laundry readers) is…slow drivers.  And all that I can say to that is Amen, brother.

Image source: http://www.forestpests.org/publichealth/socialwasp.html