ULULATE

ULULATE \UL-yuh-layt; YOOL-\, intransitive verb:

To howl, as a dog or a wolf; to wail; as, ululating jackals.

Ever have one of those days? Of course you have. It starts off questionable. Moves along, walking a fine line between maybe it's going to be okay, and it's going to hell in a handbasket.

I didn't sleep well last night. In fact, I was up reading all of your blogs around 3 a.m. I dragged myself out of bed because I had many errands to run today. Usually I can pull this off, no problem. However, my biorhythms must be in a critical phase or something.

This town is, for all intents and purposes, layed out in a big triangle. I start off on one end, drive to the other to pick up money from a client. That is always a good thing, even though it's only half of what he owes. I appreciate his effort. Stopped at Verizon to drop off a payment, just a quick drop into the slot, right? No. They have a new machine now where you enter your personal information, bill amount, your check, and your first born's name. OK. Cool machine, but I'm in a hurry, man! Hubby is along for the ride and is feeling like some JUNK food. Poor guy. He's had a rough couple of weeks. "Anywhere you want, love." Sonic. Well, we've been seeing gobs of commercials on tv about how great their burgers are, and we haven't had MEAT in a long time. I was dreading it because the last time we were there it took FOREVER to get our food. But to my delight, the food was at our truck window in record time. Things are looking up!Yea! Not having had a hamburger in ages, it wasn't bad for a buck. I even ordered a large onion ring, thinking I was going the extra mile in junk food fashion as the supportive wife. I think we both ate one (1), it was sssooooo awful and threw the rest of the bag away. I tried to decide if it was the onion itself or the batter that tasted like it had been infused with vanilla ice cream flavoring. Not even the real thing. That fake, too sweet, oh my God, what is this flavor. Just way too weird. We were in the same parking lot as Ace Hardware, where we were going to pick up a weed sprayer. No, Hubby wanted to go to the store first. Okay, never mind (he's still on drugs from his surgery) and we go through the intersection and across the street to the store. Crab for crabcakes? No. Small town U.S.A. Back across the street, through the intersection to Ace Hardware. Buy this nifty little rolling weed sprayer that runs on batteries so you don't have to continually pump it, and a pair of garden gloves (industrial strength to deal with tumbleweed) for me. Back across town the way we had come to see if the other store (next to Verizon) had crab. Yes, yes they did, thankfully. A couple more stops then we are home, and a nap is definitely in order. A perk on a grand scale of working for ourselves!

We had emptied the hot tub a month or so ago because we hadn't been using it and figured there was no sense in having to pay to keep it heated. When a small storm blew through the other night, the cover must have shifted and rain water got in, which took on a very ugly odor after a few days. This is a job that Hubby would ordinarily tackle. But, poor thing, there is no way he could get in or out of there. And truth be told, I am a spoiled brat that way and deserve to have to do this chore!

Hubby assembled the new rolling weed sprayer for me, and we filled it with water and Round Up. We live on an acre lot, and the mere mist in the desert will bring on the explosion of wild flowers, as well as the nastiest of thorn-bearing plants. Truly, there are a bizillion tumbleweed upstarts!

They begin like this:

and although they look all sweet and tender, they are the devil's work! Even at this infantile stage, they will prick you with a vengence if you are not wearing gloves!

And they end up like this:

Wicked, they are. I know I tend to go on waay too long about tumbleweed, but if there is anything that I truly hate in this wonderful world of ours...this is it.

I digressed, didn't I? Sorry.

So thinking that we were all set to reak havoc on our weeds, we set the sprayer upright, and realized that we had a SERIOUS leak from the drain underneath (the one that has a little stickie note that states "make sure drain cap is securely tightened to avoid spills." It's tight already!!! Okay, what to do? We have nothing to empty the caustic liquid into. Nothing to do but spray like crazy until it is at a level that will not leak. Now, ordinarily, this is a job that we share. But, poor baby, he is still using a walker, for God's sake! And, I did want to try the nifty little rolling ball of destruction! Sprayed all along the concrete wall, all along the cyclone fence of the south 40, and all of the obstreperous new growth weeds on the inside yard. We're talking Rye grass here! Grrrrr!

I turned the handy, deadly carrier over to where it wouldn't leak any more and came in the house to feed my lovely hairy friends. They are such spirit-lifting, wonderous little beings, that I love to see them all excited over a bowl of kibble, water, and pumpkin! I recently discovered that instead of excitedly announcing "you want your dinner? Huh? Are you hungry?" All I had to do was look at them intently and lick my lips. Hahahahaha! They got it, and charged in the kitchen! I love them!

While they are happily slopping their food bowl, I usually scoop up a plastic glass full of bird seed and head out to the front yard (where the Cooper's Hawk was looking for lunch yesterday) to feed my menagerie of wild folk. I fill this tall glass, and empty 3/4 of it in the front yard and put the remaining 1/4 in the feeder in back. Back inside the front door, with said 1/4 glassful of bird seed, I spied a wad of some strange something that probably escaped from Willy's lips, and bent over to pick it up to throw it away. You guessed it...all over the entryway. Deep breaths, calmly sweeping the little kernels of seed into the dust pan, then to empty into the bird feeder. Vacuum out, suck up the rest of the seed that was stuck in the grout. Another deep breath.

Practically ran to the fridge to fill my purple glass with boxed wine and headed here to vent. God bless blogsville! And if any of you managed to make it past all of my whining to the end of this post, God bless you! And God bless Hubby, because while I was ULULATING here...he was making me a fantastic dinner of crabcakes over arugula, polenta, & zucchini.

Tomorrow is another day...