And By Wordless, I Mean With Words

My roof:

That’s what the roof looked like on Tuesday morning before the ~~arborist~~ tree guy came.

It came from a split-trunk white oak in the neighbor’s yard, a tree that had been the subject of several conversations with the neighbor since October. Apparently, one trunk decided it was done at 7pm Monday night. Over, finished, shuffling off this mortal coil, kaputt, fin.

CC called insurance, the neighbor, and the tree service. All the neighborhood gathered across the street to observe. I was informed by a little girl in a red wagon that a tree had fallen on our house.

I went for a run and then had an ice cream sandwich.

This morning at 3:20am the other trunk also gave up, taking the ash in front of it along for the ride. The ash hit our roof and the oak landed on our deck, the new batting cage, and the ladder CC bought yesterday to get up to the roof to assess the damage from the first trunk.

CC and I checked everything out and then spent a little quality time together. Then he made cornbread and bacon.

I love my husband.

The ~~tree guy~~ arborist said white oaks all over the area are falling. Anything that got damaged in October is now soaking up all the rain and coming down, crack crack smash.

Again, we’re lucky. It didn’t hit #4, who was on her way out to walk Team Puggle when it fell– much like how the tree that fell in October just barely missed #1 by feet and seconds. Even though the roof has extensive damage, the attic goes the whole length of the house. So where the tree broke through is in the attic, and daylight isn’t hitting our bedrooms.

Last night I was the only one who heard the tree fall. This is hilarious to me. That shizz is loud. Seven people in the house; even the damn dogs didn’t wake up and it happened literally right over their heads.

This morning, the guy who took care of the tree yesterday was passing by to check out his handiwork and came across a whole new scene with bonus trees, so he stopped. While everyone was outside checking out the damage, Casey took the opportunity to relieve us of the remaining bacon.

Today, here’s what I’m grateful for:

1) My husband, for dealing with all that crap

2) Nobody got hurt.

3) Frank B. Swift, Inc tree service for being total pros and all-around good guys

4) Blue tarp.

What are you grateful for today?

One and Done Sunday #17

Welcome to One and Done Sunday: one picture, and five links that are worth your time.

Don’t fret, I’ll carry on milking my 40th birthday with my next post. I would like to say that this picture is a sign of my maturity, my newfound ability to not kill growing things in my garden. But really I think the credit goes to advances in horticulture technology:

Knockout roses:

The knockout roses we have have been through a hurricane, an October blizzard, and three winters of oh crap, we didn’t winterize the roses and they’re under nine feet of snow.

They don’t seem to be terribly bothered by any of it. I never knew how much I would love going outside and seeing roses there. It’s very cool, kind of like getting flowers every day for no reason.

Yesterday at work, before I left to meet CC for dinner between shows, I lightened my bag. The last thing I removed was my umbrella. Shockingly, there are no windows in theaters and I couldn’t see the sky. I went out a side door and saw one guy carrying an umbrella, but he was prancing a bit and it being New York and all, I thought it was merely an accessory. Then I saw others with umbrellas, then I felt the rain. I turned in slow motion to watch the side door–which opens only from the inside–close. If I wanted my umbrella, I would have to plow through the crowd at the stage door and walk all the way around the building again. So I chanced it.

It didn’t rain much, it wasn’t a big deal. At least, not until after dinner. About three blocks from work it started raining more. Then it poured.

Did I mention I was wearing white pants? I was mostly see-through by the time I got back to work.

I passed a complete stranger who actually laughed out loud at me.

And you know what? I really didn’t care. It was pretty funny. Chalk that one up to 40 too.

Speaking of thunder storms, Renee Schuls-Jacobson wrote a great piece On Sons and Thunderstorms.

CC sent me this link of before and after pictures of East Germany. This photographer took pictures immediately after the wall came down, and then again ten years later. It’s astounding. Pictures by Stefan Koppelkamm: A Massive Facelift for East Germany.

Melissa Stetton is a model with a blog that I totally dig. I don’t know her and if she’s noticed my comments at all she probably thinks I’m a stalker, which is sort of appealing. Here are her recent thoughts on doing a photo shoot nearly naked in Central Park in 55-degree weather. Pretty Bored: You Chose to Be a Model, Deal With It.

Sometimes life sucks. When you’re a writer, it’s all future material. Hannah R. Goodman guest posts on E. Kristin Anderson’s site: Dear High School, Thanks for Being so Sucky. Love, H.

I loved this post for so many reasons. Life Well Blended: On Being the Stepmom on Mothers Day

Happy Sunday.

My D-Day.

My actual birthday, the day I turned 40, was a two-show day. My mom had been in town helping take care of the kids so I got to see her on my birthday for the first time since I don’t remember when. Both CC and I were working a lot of overtime so I wasn’t expecting a big to-do from anyone.

I was holding out a hope that at some point in the day, there would be cake. It was really all I wanted.

Right before I left for work I was presented with this cake, made for me by #1:

She also got me a gift certificate to MAC cosmetics which I plan on trading in for something extravagant.

So my day was already pretty great before I even left for work.

At the theater, we were programming the console, making changes, and all of a sudden some friends from my old show (across the street) came in.

Then some more showed up.

With cake.

And then more friends.

With gifts.

And I was in the middle of working but my bosses made me stop and open gifts and have cake while they kept working.

Now, nothing can truly compare to a dark chocolate box cake made by your eldest child topped with your age in bacon. But the cake that my friend Michelle made me is a close second.

She’s made this cake for me before and it’s nothing short of divine. I should also point out that Michelle is the one friend I will never bake for. That would just be embarrassing.

The cake:

Cinnamon cake, with ancho chile chocolate butter cream frosting. You don’t notice it at first, but gradually you become aware that the piece of cake you’re eating is totally kicking your ass, and you want nothing more than to eat the entire rest of the cake and then roll around naked in the leftover frosting.

Well, maybe that’s just me.

Michelle also strong-armed our friends into chipping in on a gift.

A really big, outrageously generous gift that I totally don’t deserve but happily accepted anyway.

So big, I was rendered speechless.

I’ll give you a little hint:

No?

How about this:

Still no?

Okay.

The Marlene Deitrich Mont Blanc.

!!!!!

I have really good friends. Who are afraid of Michelle.

So we shared cake and my amazed expression.

I look confused in the picture, but actually I was asking if I could stab somebody with the pen.

As a parting gift, I got a list of instructions from Michelle:

The list of what I was to bring continued:

Advil

Toilet Paper

Metro Card

1 can of tuna

Bus/train pass to get you back to New Jersey

An open mind

I was further informed that my husband was aware and in full support of these plans.

Any time someone is telling me to bring an open mind, that’s an automatic red flag. The whole Advil/can of tuna/toilet paper thing was especially disconcerting. I truly had no idea what I was in for. That’ll be my next post.

Oh, I nearly forgot the other big gift I got. When #1 had dropped me off at the train station that morning she was returning home to pick up my mom to take her to the airport. She got about a mile from home and the transmission on our twelve-year-old minivan went out.

~~Sweet.~~ Sweat!

Anyway, it all got me thinking about birthday gifts. For #1’s thirteenth birthday, we wrapped up our shovel very elaborately and gave it to her. Then after she unwrapped it we made her put it away, where her real gift was waiting for her: a guitar. This year in December I called the school and told them that #3 had a dentist appointment that I forgot about, and asked them to tell her and get her ready for me to pick up. It was especially mean because she’d just been to the dentist like two weeks prior to this. When I got her out to the car I gave her a hot chocolate and then we went and got mani/pedi’s, followed by the eye doctor to get fitted for contacts, the ONLY thing on her Christmas list.

I have a couple months left to plan for a unique gift with clever presentation for #5’s birthday. Any thoughts?