Vacuuming the backyard.

Once upon a time…

This is the story of my day, the names have not been changed to protect anyone and these are the occurrences as they happened… well the best I can  remember them anyway. I am writing this blog  as I sit in my chair with an ice pack on my back and the tweezers on the table next to me.

My day started out with me waking up to my ipone playing the Marimba ringtone that I have set as my alarm, only something was strangely different, the dogs were sitting up starring at me with a “we have been waiting and listening to that god awful sound for 45 minuets” that’s right I overslept and just kept on oversleeping until it was to late to recover. I sprang from bed, fed the dogs, the cats, and brushed my teeth in the shower while the conditioner was in my hair..that was the starting gun of my good morning race.

Once at work (only a little late) things were fine. Today my department was leaving work early for a happy hour then dinner at a nice downtown restaurant.  I prepared for the dinner, I ate very well the rest of the day and I e-mailed Lindsey the restaurant menu and we picked out what we thought would be the best choice. Oh, and no drinking, and no dessert. I have decided that for the final month of this phase of the dog-lbs project I am going old school and rocking it prohibition style.

It takes a village, and my savior in so many of these social work circumstances continues to be Scott. He has never let me down and he still surprises me by his devotion to help me make it through the Olympic size maze of food hurdles. We are at dinner, sitting next to each other and I place my order. I have the zucchini and basil soup (not cream based) and the warm goat cheese salad with grilled chicken. The waiter looks at Scott and asks what he will be having this evening… I thought braised short rib or homemade pasta might come out of his mouth, but I don’t hear either of those things. “I am going to have the exact same thing that she is having”. He could have ordered anything off that menu and he will say that the salad sounded good and that he needs to make good choices as well, but I know he did it so I would not feel alone in a waterfall of rich sauces and gooey pastas that surrounded us. When the fragrant warm bread basket hit the table, he leaned over and said “we don’t need any bread, right? Doesn’t even look that good”. Who cares what it looks like, it smells like yeast, crusty, doughy heaven. I wanted the bread with a big smear of warm butter, but it was not going to happen so my carb coma dreams were laid to rest immediately.  I texted Lindsey that I was not having dessert! She texted back ” it’s not worth it”. No dessert for me, and no dessert for Scott, just a cup of coffee to bring it all to an end. We finished up a meal filled with laughter and stories from the season which ended up being less about the food and more about what really needs to nourish me.

Saying our goodbyes for the evening on the busy street corner with a jazz band playing  on the square I thank Scott for having my back….for always having my back. I love the man he is, and the friend that shows up each day without fail to sit next to me helping me figure it all out. I hope in some way, some small way I am as good to him as he is to me.

I head to the gym, it was not much but it was one mile as fast as I could bust it out, and it did not take long until I am a soaked sweaty mess heading back home. It was a good night with good choices and I was so energized I thought I might get some yard work in when I arrived home. After the dogs fanfare greeting, which is the best part of any day, and a quick change I am out in the backyard with the weed whacker in hand only to realize I need to pick up the dogs “gifts” they have left in the backyard. On my way out the backdoor as it comes back to meet the frame and I am almost halfway out…the top half of the glass shatters all around me, and I am not sure what the heck happened but I freeze. Standing there in my flip flops, shorts and t shirt the glass is everywhere, I look up and there is Tristan and he is already belly crawling  for cover under a bush. I thought don’t act freaked out, so I smile big and use my sweet voice as the glass cuts into my feet when I move and I can feel shards in my hair I tell Tristan he is pretty boy and everything is okay. In my head however my not so sweet voice is screaming “What the sam hell am I going to do”? the glass is all over the kitchen, all over the back porch and if the dogs try to come through here they are going to get cut. I shake the glass from my flip flops but can already feel some have made their way through my skin and are now stabbing at me with every step I take. I brush off as much glass as I can as I pick Maggie up and wrangle Tully scooping them both up and into the house where they are safe in the front room. I can see Tristan from the kitchen and I know what is coming next, I prepare for the 65lb dead-lift of love. As I have him in my arms, struggling to support him it occurs to me that he weighs about the amount of weight I have lost in the last 11 months. Somehow that gives me the boost I need to carry him safely to the front room as I set him down feeling his weight release from my arms, not thinking about the glass or the panic just basking in the moment of laying the weight down, looking at his sweet concerned face…. my back goes out.


So I hobble back to try to figure out what to do and how the heck to start. I grab a broom and dustpan and try to get as much of the glass up, it is everywhere and every time the door moves at all, more glass comes breaking apart in tiny little shards. Who the heck designs windows like this? I get some of the glass cleaned up , then retrieve plastic  garbage bags from the kitchen. I wrap the plastic bags around the window and use clear packing tape to try to form a barrier for the glass to not break off and fall to the ground. It’s a sorry looking job but it’s as good as it’s going to get. There is still glass everywhere on the porch, the steps leading to the backyard, even in the kitchen so I do the only thing I can think of and grab the vacuum cleaner. It’s 9:00pm and I am outside vacuuming my porch, my back stairs and I see little shads of glass as I go along, I just keep following the glass. I look up and realize I am vacuuming the grass, but I don’t care there could be glass, or is that a rock, or a tiny piece of foil? I finally stop when I can no longer see what the heck I am sucking up.

I know there is still glass out there so in the morning there will be round two of  vacuum Friday Frenzy, but not too early who wants to wake up to their crazy neighbor vacuuming the backyard? I can laugh about it because no one was hurt and the doggies are safe and sound. Tristan is currently snoring on the couch so hopefully he will forget his hard night.

I have picked most of the glass out of my feet and arms and I am hoping my back loosens up by the morning so I can be back at the gym on Saturday bright and early.

I don’t often do this and there have only been a handful of times when I have not made my weigh-ins, but tomorrow morning I have to take time to make sure everything is cleaned up to keep the dogs safe and figure out what to do to get the door repaired so I am going to do my weigh in on Monday. I somehow think you will understand. Look for a weigh in update on Monday! 🙂



















That is the second batch swept up!




MacGyver has nothing on me.


















It did not take long for Tristan to curl up for a snooze and say goodnight!


1 Comment

  1. Moody says:

    Oh my god!!! That window didn’t just break, it desintegrated!!! That is soooo old-school glass. You need to get something that will not blast into so many little pieces if anything happens.

    Oh and did you feel like John McClane in Die Hard???? He had to run through broken glass barefoot too.

    I agree with the McGyver picture. It may not look like anything, but you got the job done!! Way to go!!!!!!

    And how’s your back??
    Did it “ungive”??

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