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Archive for the ‘Broski’ Category

Bye-bye Tree

I got a notice from my insurance company that my favorite tree in my backyard had to come down (probably due to the fact that a storm had taken out a giant limb). Well, luckily, Pop came down this weekend and we cut the entire thing down, with the extraordinary help of The Fiance’s brother (by the way, WE’RE ENGAGED! Me and The Boyfriend (henceforth known as The Fiance), not The Fiance’s brother).

So yeah, after a lesson in how to cut down limbs with something that looks very similar to what the Grim Reaper carries around (scythe?), we decided to just cut down the entire thing. So The Fiance’s brother and I pulled on a rope while Pop notched the tree, and it was falling perfectly… then I must have sneezed or something, because it suddenly turned 45 degrees and landed on the tree next to it and it’s totally stuck there. Also a terrifying moment, because for ten seconds after it fell, I couldn’t see Pop, and I honestly thought he had been crushed. Then I heard the sound of a beautiful, wheezy cough, and I knew he was fine, though desperately in need of some water.

Then the chainsaw wouldn’t start. Apparently Broski had bought this chainsaw for Pop awhile ago, and he’d been having nothing but problems with it. New carburateurs (oh wow, I spelled that right on the first try) have been purchased, and after watching Pop standing outside and then kicking the chainsaw a couple of times, we decided to call it a day. By the way, this is my official denouncement of Husqvarna chainsaws. Completely unreliable!

So basically, I have a fallen tree that’s resting against an upright tree in my backyard. I love my Pop and The Fiance’s brother for helping me get it down. I know I couldn’t have done it myself.

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Losing Things.

Pop

I spent an amazing long weekend in NYC with the Boyfriend. We traipsed through every burough within 36 hours, including Yankees Stadium, the Empire State Building, Ground Zero, the Staten Island Ferry and of course 5th Ave.

Now to the hiccups of the trip. Broski was on his way back to VA on Friday morning, so I called him while he was on the train to find out where he left the keys. Well, he left them in his pocket. In the jeans he was wearing, while traveling to VA. So through a series of phone calls, a near panic attack by me and an amazing maintenance man named Sal, we got back into the apartment and made copies of the keys.

Additionally, on the trip home and in my stupor of slumber, I managed to leave all identification on the train when I got off at the stop in RVA. Amazing, right? I’m going to start supergluing important documents to my arms so that I don’t lose them anymore. I went to the DMV and I couldn’t get my license unless I had my birth certificate, which neither Pop nor I could locate. So he had to come all the way down to RVA and we had to go to the Department of Vital Records and prove my birth. He was not happy about this at all, and I can’t say that I blame him. Between the Broski and I, we are the most unorganized people in the world when it comes to things that identify us and things that get us into places (keys). I will say that the Department of Vital Records is the most efficient government agency that I have EVER dealt with, and we were in and out in 15 minutes with a birth certificate that validated me as a living human being.

I am now in possession of my driver’s license, and I feel much better knowing that if I come down with a sudden case of amnesia I’ll at least know my name and that I’m an organ donor. I’m also happy to report that my lost items were located on the Amtrak down in Charlotte, NC, and they are en route to me as we speak.

Broski did leave his keys in VA this weekend on his way back to The City. Unfortunately for him, Pop is so over both of us right now, I’d be surprised if those keys weren’t put in the oven and melted away.

Love you, Pop. You’re my hero, and thank you for everything that you do for me.

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Whaaaaat?!

About one week ago, I was having my weekday-morning conversation with my Pop. These talks occur almost every weekday-morning, barring a work holiday or a particularly busy start to the day. I don’t know what exact comment triggered the though, but suddenly I knew that I needed to start a blog about the conversations that happen between the King Family. I brought this to the attention of my darling boy and he immediately supported the idea. I like to think it’s because he’s charmed by my family, and who wouldn’t be? Conversations with the Kings are always very interesting.

For example, my Pop knows that I’m going to call him every weekday-morning. Every morning, unless he is outside working on the farm, he answers the phone saying “Whaaat?!”. Every single morning. My father has always been the person in the family who acts as though he doesn’t want to talk to you, but by the end of the conversation it’s difficult to get him off of the phone. Not that I mind, I love to talk to my dad as much as I can. He’s a fascinating individual, as this story will show in later posts.

Speaking with my Ma is an entirely different conversation. Ma always has something specific she wants to talk about, and once that conversation is done she barely says good-bye before she hangs up the phone, even if I want to talk to her just a bit more and tell her about something that happened to me earlier that day.  But she is, after all, the busiest retired woman on the entire planet. She does more in one day than I could hope to do in two weeks.

When Broski (my elder by seven years) answers the phone, he answers with an excited yet subdued “He-e-e-ey, sis! What’s up?!”. My brother is hands-down the smartest person and craftiest person I know. I want to punch him and hug him all at the same time.

So this is the beginning. Tomorrow is Monday, and at 8AM sharp, I will be calling Pop. I’ll fill you in!

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