|Moey nursing her sore head|
With hockey season right around the corner, I thought I would take this opportunity to give an update of how I spent my summer. Back in May I mentioned how Mr. Moey wanted a bigger deck. That was all well and good but it took him three months to decide what kind of deck he wanted. (And they talk about women). He was driving moi and our friend handy Andy (who will be building it) to distraction and on more than a few occasions, drink. We were slowly losing the will to live. We had managed to agree on a multi level deck but Mr. Moey was having serious issues about how many sets of stairs he wanted. At one stage I had visions of this floating through my head.
Finally, Mr. Moey had an "aha" moment when Andy suggested that we lower the deck's overall height with an extra step down from the back door. That and the fact that Andy and I were both holding razor blades seemed to do the trick. Andy muttered to me, "one small step for Mr. Moey, one giant step for the deck."
So now we had a plan, the next the step was figuring out the quantity and location of the posts. Another stumbling block, Mr. Moey didn't agree with Andy's calculations, he wasn't sure if the posts would be deep enough. I really don't blame him for second guessing Andy, who builds aircraft in his spare time, where thousands of lives hang in the balance every day. *rolls eyes* I sweetly suggested that I give one of my buddies in stress engineering a call to get a seal of approval. I think in the end my comment about the Sistine Chapel being painted quicker ultimately put things into perspective for him.
|A deck is born.......|
There have been various other projects in the works at chez Moey's, including the construction of a new cabana. Handy Andy has already completed the frame, made up of two by fours and measuring 12 feet in length. One afternoon I arrived home from work and one of the frames was still outside on the driveway. There was overnight rain in the forecast but the structure was too heavy for Andy to move into the garage by himself. He was already late for a friend's dinner party so he suggested that when Mr. Moey got home to give him a call and he would nip over to help him move it. Of course, men being men Mr. Moey decided to try and move it himself. The thing was so damn awkward and heavy I was worried about MM getting hurt so I stuck around to help in any way I could. Together we pushed the thing into the the middle of the garage and then Mr. Moey had the bright idea of hooking it to the garage door runners so it wouldn't fall over while he cleared some space for it against the wall. (They don't pay him the big bucks for nothing). He asked me to open the garage door on the other side. Easy peasy, it's an automatic opener so I flipped the switch and started walking back to help him. The hook holding the frame dislodged from the runner and the twelve feet of two by fours hit me square on the forehead. Now this thing must weigh about a gazillion pounds, or so it felt to me anyway. I was in shock and so was Mr. Moey. He yells "are you okay?" I was rubbing my head, where I felt a definite dent and said I think so, but what are you doing at the prom? I started to shake from top to bottom and went inside to inspect the damage. Mr. Moey came running in after me, insisting that I go to the hospital. I was hesitant at first, until he remarked about Liam Neeson's wife. Well that cheered me up considerably. Based on that tragic accident, Mr. Moey's logic dictated that although he had hit his head at various times in his life, girl's heads might be different. (You got that right honey, girls actually HAVE a brain that can swell).
So off the the hospital we went, where there was a ten hour wait period in emergency. The nurse asked me if I had blacked out, vomited or had a headache, I told her I had felt like that when I woke up this morning, before I was hit. (Note to self, too much Grand Marnier is eerily similar to a concussion). Since I wasn't showing any signs of a serious head injury, I went home and put an icepack on the egg that was starting to grow out of my forehead. But in the end, as one of my co-workers so kindly pointed out, the important thing was Mr. Moey didn't get hurt moving that &%* frame.
There you have it, the highlights, or should I say lowlights of my summer.
But there is some good news, the Hab kittens, namely Josh and Cammy were adopted together by a couple in Pointe Claire. Josh made a full recovery, but not without leaving a string of vet bills behind him. If you have a few spare dollars, please click on the Cause4Paws link on the right of my blog to help them out. Josh thanks you and so do I.