Page I had to reach to be caught up on my friendslist after being out of town all weekend: skip=450
Cuteness level of my new cousin Maggie, who I didn't get very near for very long due to current lingering cold: 11 on a scale of 1 to 10
This year's annual moment of appreciation for the ability of the men in my family to bring a special, glittery shine to the word "understatement" : staring at the house in which I spent the second 9 years of my childhood and comprehending that when Uncle Ron said that Uncle Al had helped him put a tarp over the hole in the roof, he meant that Uncle Al had helped him put a tarp over the WHOLE ROOF.
There is a large green tarpaulin over our. entire. (not-being-lived-in) house. *headdesk* Pictures to follow eventually, I'm fairly sure, because really, the exact shade of scarlet that is genetically imprinted upon my familial neck must be shared with the world. If our porch collapsed, it would not kill any dogs, largely because said porch is a three inch high decklike affair that fits directly over the well and sump-pump cover, and can be picked up with one hand. There are also no engine parts in the bathtub. There is, however, a largh trash bag full of.. um. I think it's insulation, but it most closely resembles the size of styrofoam beads you find in beanbag chairs. In the bathtub. Under the hole where the ceiling fell in. Similar things to be found beneath the matching holes in the kitchen ceiling and the one in the back bedroom.
Most amusing (paraphrased) quote of the weekend, on the same theme, but in reference to my family's next-door neighbor: "If the tree outside your window has a muffler wedged into its branches? You might be a redneck." ~ maeyan (Said neighbor, who doesn't actually live in his house anymore either, is in fact a biker. Which isn't exactly mutually exclusive with 'redneck' but has a slightly higher coolness factor than us 'tarp over the house' types.)
Items rescued from the tarp-covered house (and/or temporary storage at my uncle's apartment), which was the purpose of the weekend road-trip, at a cost of 188$ for pickup-rental: One bag of random important papers, mixed photographs, and as many freaking proof and mint sets as my uncle could dig out of his coin collection. One box of stuffed animals and assorted evidence that I was ten in 1983 (including my Cabbage Patch Kid). Two boxes of Books I Actually Want To Save. (The size of the "Nah, toss 'em" piles was both staggering and disturbing.) One box of Stuff maeyan Allowed My Uncle To Press On Her When My Back Was Turned And I Haven't Looked In It Yet Mommy I'm Scared. My grad caps from high school and college - high school cap complete with original bobby pin. A metal bookshelf. Two large cedar chests, one of which is almost as long as the short wall of our living room.
Places available to sit down in the tarp-house which are not covered with either ceiling debris or shoulder-high piles of utterly fucking random items that my uncle has bought at estate auctions in the 8 years or so since I haven't been living there: One. The one that flushes.
Proudest moment of the weekend: watching my 63 year old uncle sit in his relatively flotsam-free new apartment, at his very first PC, typing search terms into EBay.
Scariest moment of the weekend: see above.
Number of hours after returning rental vehicle before my own car broke down for as-yet-unspecified reasons this time: 3 (As opposed to last time, when it waited til the next morning.)
mpoetess: Did I mention there's a tarp over the entire fucking house?
maeyan: No. Really? How weird. By the way, there's a tarp over the entire fucking house.
mpoetess: There IS? Damn. I didn't notice. I was too busy looking at the tarp over the entire fucking house.