Amelia Bedelia, Mr. Great-Ass, and the Wino

I just realized how much that title sounds like a porn movie.

My sister is a very capable woman. I've mentioned before how we call her Amelia Bedelia because if there is any household project she wants to tackle, she googles it and just does it herself.

This works out well because her husband isn't much of a handyman. He has a great ass though, so there's that.

This weekend however, she decided she needed a little help to install a bigger doggie door in her wall because her dog, Buddy, suddenly won't go through the old one.

She asked my hubby to help her.

I may have mentioned a time or two how my husband doesn't care much for yard or household projects, but he couldn't say no to my sister because she's always there for us. When we moved, she helped me unpack and when that awesome house party that we weren't invited to happened at our old house, she was there with her boombox and rags to help us clean up.

So of course, the hubs said he'd help her with the doggie door.

Apparently though, my sister didn't clear the whole process with Mr. Great Ass, who wasn't keen on the idea of having a hole in the wall big enough for a small man to crawl through.

I can't say I blame him, but when it comes to a choice between her pets and her man, my sister has always made known that her man would get dogged, no matter how cute his hind quarters are.

She and Fred were crouched on the patio, examining the existing doggie door and trying to figure out how to make the hole in the wall bigger to accommodate a larger one.

My sister starts a whispered conversation with my hubby:

My sister (whispering): I just think I really need to do this to make it easier for Buddy.
My hubby (picking up on the fact that Mr. Great-Ass might not be on board): And I assume you had a family meeting and all are in agreement to this?
My sister (still whispering): I AM the family.
My hubby: Then why are we whispering?

Despite Mr. Great Ass's misgivings, the door was going in. While my hubby and sister, and my brother (who stopped by to see how things were going and ended up down on the floor, sawing into the wall, much to his dismay) were working on the hole in the wall, I was helping...

By sitting on the nearest chair having a glass of wine. Or two.

I may or may not have posted video of a home birth to my eldest daughter's Facebook page. And a video of a horse giving birth on my own page.

My daughter's face when she sees my post. This is why she fled to India. (Source)

In my defense, I had just returned from a bridal shower in our old neighborhood. My daughter's good friend, whom we met after moving to the neighborhood and have known for thirteen years now, is getting married in April.

I was feeling a little melancholy about how time marches on and things change and kids grow up - you know how it is, right? And my own two girls being away from home didn't help either. Plus, I drove by our old house for the first time in three months and that just added to my melancholy.

Throw in the wine and you've got a real menopausal nostalgia-fest going on.

And now my daughter's Facebook friends probably think she's pregnant. Meanwhile, she's in India with sketchy Internet access and has no idea whatsoever.

Ooops.

Sorry hon.

Don't ask me what a horse giving birth had to do with any of this.

So that was my weekend, how was yours?

P.S. Linking up with Mingle Monday today! Hop over and check out the other posts if you can.