I had worked ahead and was able to take a MUCH desired/needed day off. I was super excited to be doing a neat little surprise for Cheech: ripping out the front flowerbed, filling it in ,covering it with weed paper and using pea gravel as the filler with cute little "things" in it. With our frequent trips to Promises, too many flower beds becomes overwhelming so I just eliminated one. Yay me.
Well I stole the truck and headed out; made the first stop and picked up 2x40lb dirt, 6x50lb pea gravel. The lady who rang me up asked if I wanted help. I hesitated but realizing there would be multiple trips ... agreed. A man came out to help me. He looked like a medieval mistral with a long bowl cut (to the chin) that actually curled under. But beggars can't be choosers so I was glad to have someone help me hoist the bags. Off I went.
I got home and put dirt in the gaping hole where our Chinese red maple used to be. Hmmm not enough. I lay out my bags of pea gravel and headed back. Second trip. This time 4x40lbs of dirt and 8x50lbs of pea gravel. Different helper but we got it loaded and I was grateful.
DOMMIT! It STILL wasn't enough. Well I was glad to have filled in the hole and gotten the weed paper down. Little victories need celebration too. So I went inside and made a sandwich. I contemplated my options and headed out for the third trip.
12x50lbs of pea gravel. This got looks: one because I looked like a little vagabond with my flannel shirt and jeans that with each trip got progressively dirtier and two... well it looked like I was burying something; or... yeah well... that's just ME and MY thought process. So the third time's a charm right? So they say. Well this guy is ticked that he has 12 x 50lb bags to haul and he doesn't understand when I grab half and wait. Thinking like the other two guys, he'll grab it and we will split the bags. Nope. He's a macho man and lifts them alone. Well, I don't want to have him do it all by himself so I grab a couple. NOW he's ticked that a WOMAN is helping so he picks up the pace to load MORE than me. Really? You are that fragile man? C'mon. I'm a middle aged mom standing here in a flannel and dirt covered jeans. Reach deep within your pride and pull out the sliver of common sense that is nagging at you and just split the friggin bags with me....
Nope. Man. Lift. Heavy. Stuff.
Whatever.
So I get in the car and I drive away for the last bundle. I have loaded almost 35 bags of heavy crap and am down to the last three. Yay me. It's going great. It's all coming together. I'm gonna succeed and THEN some today! Yeah baby GO GO Go.....
tweak.
I reached in to the truck and pulled the corner of the 3rd to the last bag. It was as if a cruel little gnome jumped up and pinched my back. In fact folks, I turned around just to make sure. Then I got that pucker ... that "Ohhhh nononononoooooo don't hurt my back DON'T HURT MY BACK..." and I stood still frozen in that position like it would fall off me or if I stayed still it would shoo away like a bee or something. I slowly began to move... nothing. No pain. I bent down with my spine straight as an arrow... nothing... no pain. I did cute little baby yoga moves... No pain, no resistance.. I shrug and think "Huh.. lucky I guess." and I proceed. Bag 3... nothing. Feeling good. Bag 2... hey... little tight back there....Bag 1... Holy Mother of God just drop this thing and pray you walk again with the aid of a dog sled team or electrical charges to your spine. I do the smart thing (uh yeah NOW) and leave the lifting behind.... after I empty all the bags because it isn't REALLY lifting, it's slicing and tugging.. all the weight falls out of the bag. See my logic? Then I go and weed. THIS isn't damaging because I stand or sit very straight and lean like I do in yoga... like a board has been inserted... I rake because there is not weight and I am using my arms not my back... I finish and realize I am gasping for air like a guppy out of its tank. I want to go inside. It is nearly impossible to move. I am alone in the driveway, the neighborhood, seemingly the world and I "Tim Conway" walk up the steps (For those of you too young: I looked like had a big ole load in my drawers) in to the house and stand in the kitchen where I begin to cry; softly because sobbing makes me hiccup ... and that hurts my back.
I call Cheech and explain.
"You are too damn stubborn for your own GOOD woman!" he sighs. "Are you alright?"
"Yes." I say weakly. I am trying to figure out how I will climb the steps to get the ice bag and heating pad. I think it would be easier to lean against the open freezer and the dryer while it's running.
He comes home with medicine for me. I don't want it. I hate meds but I realize to the amusement of my children that my back is spasming so painfully that I sound like I'm shouting for about 30% of my words:
"Please PASS the chi-CKEN" and twisting like I have been shocked with a cattle prod.
Lovely vision isn't it?
I take the meds and go to bed. I sleep the sleep of ... a tired injured middle aged woman ... I'm sure there was some SERIOUS snoring and drooling.
The morning brings stiffness but no real pain. I stretch and find my breathing is normal not chokes and gasps.This is awesome. So I round up the kids and we get wheelbarrows and hump three cubic yards of dirt. Do you know how much that is? My back sure did and it told me so.
My daughter and son were so mad they called their friend who came and yelled at me and took my job away from me. Those kids worked aaaaaall day. I was so in love with them.
I went to bed. I took the meds. I slept the sleep...
It's been a few days and I am as good as ... middle aged? ha. But my front bed? looks FABULOUS. My other flower beds and garden? Have LUSCIOUS dirt for the season...
I just need one more bag of pea gravel....
;)
I love you all ~ not as much as Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen... but I love you all... Thanks for the razzing and giggles. It's what makes life good.
DOMMIT! It STILL wasn't enough. Well I was glad to have filled in the hole and gotten the weed paper down. Little victories need celebration too. So I went inside and made a sandwich. I contemplated my options and headed out for the third trip.
12x50lbs of pea gravel. This got looks: one because I looked like a little vagabond with my flannel shirt and jeans that with each trip got progressively dirtier and two... well it looked like I was burying something; or... yeah well... that's just ME and MY thought process. So the third time's a charm right? So they say. Well this guy is ticked that he has 12 x 50lb bags to haul and he doesn't understand when I grab half and wait. Thinking like the other two guys, he'll grab it and we will split the bags. Nope. He's a macho man and lifts them alone. Well, I don't want to have him do it all by himself so I grab a couple. NOW he's ticked that a WOMAN is helping so he picks up the pace to load MORE than me. Really? You are that fragile man? C'mon. I'm a middle aged mom standing here in a flannel and dirt covered jeans. Reach deep within your pride and pull out the sliver of common sense that is nagging at you and just split the friggin bags with me....
Nope. Man. Lift. Heavy. Stuff.
Whatever.
So I get in the car and I drive away for the last bundle. I have loaded almost 35 bags of heavy crap and am down to the last three. Yay me. It's going great. It's all coming together. I'm gonna succeed and THEN some today! Yeah baby GO GO Go.....
tweak.
I reached in to the truck and pulled the corner of the 3rd to the last bag. It was as if a cruel little gnome jumped up and pinched my back. In fact folks, I turned around just to make sure. Then I got that pucker ... that "Ohhhh nononononoooooo don't hurt my back DON'T HURT MY BACK..." and I stood still frozen in that position like it would fall off me or if I stayed still it would shoo away like a bee or something. I slowly began to move... nothing. No pain. I bent down with my spine straight as an arrow... nothing... no pain. I did cute little baby yoga moves... No pain, no resistance.. I shrug and think "Huh.. lucky I guess." and I proceed. Bag 3... nothing. Feeling good. Bag 2... hey... little tight back there....Bag 1... Holy Mother of God just drop this thing and pray you walk again with the aid of a dog sled team or electrical charges to your spine. I do the smart thing (uh yeah NOW) and leave the lifting behind.... after I empty all the bags because it isn't REALLY lifting, it's slicing and tugging.. all the weight falls out of the bag. See my logic? Then I go and weed. THIS isn't damaging because I stand or sit very straight and lean like I do in yoga... like a board has been inserted... I rake because there is not weight and I am using my arms not my back... I finish and realize I am gasping for air like a guppy out of its tank. I want to go inside. It is nearly impossible to move. I am alone in the driveway, the neighborhood, seemingly the world and I "Tim Conway" walk up the steps (For those of you too young: I looked like had a big ole load in my drawers) in to the house and stand in the kitchen where I begin to cry; softly because sobbing makes me hiccup ... and that hurts my back.
I call Cheech and explain.
"You are too damn stubborn for your own GOOD woman!" he sighs. "Are you alright?"
"Yes." I say weakly. I am trying to figure out how I will climb the steps to get the ice bag and heating pad. I think it would be easier to lean against the open freezer and the dryer while it's running.
He comes home with medicine for me. I don't want it. I hate meds but I realize to the amusement of my children that my back is spasming so painfully that I sound like I'm shouting for about 30% of my words:
"Please PASS the chi-CKEN" and twisting like I have been shocked with a cattle prod.
Lovely vision isn't it?
I take the meds and go to bed. I sleep the sleep of ... a tired injured middle aged woman ... I'm sure there was some SERIOUS snoring and drooling.
The morning brings stiffness but no real pain. I stretch and find my breathing is normal not chokes and gasps.This is awesome. So I round up the kids and we get wheelbarrows and hump three cubic yards of dirt. Do you know how much that is? My back sure did and it told me so.
My daughter and son were so mad they called their friend who came and yelled at me and took my job away from me. Those kids worked aaaaaall day. I was so in love with them.
I went to bed. I took the meds. I slept the sleep...
It's been a few days and I am as good as ... middle aged? ha. But my front bed? looks FABULOUS. My other flower beds and garden? Have LUSCIOUS dirt for the season...
I just need one more bag of pea gravel....
;)
I love you all ~ not as much as Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen... but I love you all... Thanks for the razzing and giggles. It's what makes life good.
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