Landscaping Woes

For obvious reasons, Clint's favorite subject is landscaping. My favorite subject is me. So, when we actually sit down to discuss landscaping, it goes something like this -

"Jaylee, what features should we design into our backyard?" Clint asks.
"I have a girls night out tomorrow night. You're babysitting," I respond.
"Jaylee, landscaping is about combining beauty with function. I need to know what's important to us so that I can incorporate it into my plans," Clint says.
"Will you put lotion on my feet?" I respond.
"Jaylee, focus. We have a large backyard and a great opportunity to incorporate many different elements. Please tell me what you consider important to you," a frustrated Clint replies.

Bingo. Now it's about what I want.

"Here," I say as I grab a nearby note card, "this is what I want."









I'm a simple girl.



As the weeks went by, progress was made in our yard. The sprinklers were installed, a new sewer line was laid, and it soon came time to build my dream garden, which was, according to my specifications above, to be located in the back right hand corner, and of a squareish shape. Some how, Clint translated my squarish shaped garden into this -















The first time I walked out there and saw the monstrosity of this area, I freaked out.
"That's not what I designed! I designed a garden of squarish shape in the back right hand corner! What the freak is this! I can't garden in this! It's way too big! All I really want are a few tomatoes and maybe a cucumber or carrot! I can't garden in this!" I yell, as the exclamation marks so clearly state. I was feeling a bit of anxiety over the gigantic proportions of my new garden area, overwhelmed that I was now expected to 'farm' in this plot of land. I don't even own a garden trowel, let alone a tractor that was now needed to plant my crops. I want to experiment to see if gardening is something I'm interested in. Now I have to go to ASU and major in agriculture. Seriously, what if I hate gardening? What if the picture in my head of me in my gardening chaps, lovingling picking out weeds and singing to my lettuce while Asher plays next to me on the grass with his watering can is un-realistic? Will it be more like me in my stained jeans, yanking out weeds with my blistered hands, swearing at my lettuce because I spent so long planting it and it hasn't sprouted yet, while Asher is climbing in the garden area, grinding my onion seedlings back into the dirt, all the while in 110 degree weather?

"But I showed you the plans," Clint says.

Here are the plans Clint showed me-









Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think in circles. I think in pretty, penciled in pictures, with arrows pointing to what's what. When he showed this to me, I got crossed eyed and mumbled something about it being fine. So, that was my stamp of approval, the garden was built, and now my new career will be selling produce on the corner. Please honk your horn and wave as you pass by.


(Does anyone see my swing set designed into the above picture? Where's my errant tree?)

My Letter to Emma and Asher

August 12th, 2025

Dear Emma and Asher - Hi guys! How are you doing today? I Love You.

This is somewhat difficult to write, but I feel a need to attach some type of evidence that you did, in fact, participate in most of the standard activities that should occur in a child's lifetime.

I just received some upsetting news, and it appears that I am being blamed for some ongoing anger issues you're both dealing with. Let me just say that I'm shocked and confused that I in any way contributed to your neuroses. I just chalked it up to coincidence that you both have had similar psychiatric diagnosis and happen to be on the same dosage of meds.

I truly did my best to create an enjoyable atmosphere for you to grow up in, but it seemed you tired quickly of trips to Mervyns to watch me try on shoes, and even though I called a day of errands a mommy/daughter/son date, you acted as though you didn't want me to call you back the next morning. After many years of trial and error, I did some searching and came across, what I would venture to call my saving grace, a website entitled www.howtobealazyparentandstillenrichyourchildslifeby
doingtheabsoluteminimumin100simpleactivites.com. It was a lifesaver while raising you little turkeys (come up with a nick name for your child/children was number 54). These pictures attached are number 32, which nagged me for quite some time since I did not have the means to create an atmosphere where you, indeed, could make mud pies. Hooray for a rainy Sunday and a landscaper husband who finally cleared out our backyard! I'm hoping that this letter will suffice for you and your therapist to decide to drop your lawsuit. I just received the summons in the mail along with your unpaid therapy bills and a note from Dr. Zhivago stating that after treating you both, I am being held responsible to pay for your 249 sessions you received from him, the electroshock therapy, and the lobotomies. So, I'm doing what I have done your entire childhood: refer to The List. I'm sorry Emma that I missed number 17 and we didn't get the opportunity to weave pony manes into dozens of tiny braids, or number 70 Asher, which was dress you in a shirt that had a dump truck on it and the phrase "I LIKE TRUCKS!". Asher, as you well know, because I told you every day of your existence, except for today because I haven't spoken with you yet on the phone, I wanted you to be a girl. That's why I dressed you in tutus and headbands, and not shirts that said "Boys will be Boys" with a picture of a boy coloring all over his mother's newly painted walls. But don't you remember number 15 when we flew a kite? I'm sorry there wasn't an actual breeze that day, and maybe if we had waited a bit longer than 7 minutes it would have gotten into the air, but I was really vying to check something off that week, plus my DVR que was full and I had to hurry in and watch at least an hour long show to be able to accommodate all that I had scheduled to record that night. Okay, what about number 43? It was a fun 5 minutes when I taught you both how to tie your shoes. Again, I've already apologized for it many times, but how was I to know that wearing velcro through the 7th grade was cause for embarrassment? I thought 5 minutes was plenty of time to devote to that activity. Remember when we cuddled that one day? Remember when I played half a game of Candyland with you? Remember when you said "I Love You Momma" and I said "Me Too"?

Okay, maybe I'll pay half.

Ya'll Can Breath a Sigh of Relief --- They're Back

After a sprinkle of comments were left that I looked like an umpa loompa in my comical set of pictures, I decided I would go onto flickr and change them to a black and white format. My limited flickr skills obviously shone forth since I dim-wittedly deleted the old pictures from flickr, and with there being some kind of important and necessary link to an actual picture, they were deleted from my last posting, which is no fun at all.

So, without trepidation, I'm posting the improved versions of my yellow umpa loompa pictures. How do you know I wasn't going for an umpa loompa look?

I'm taking a re-vote, so, back by popular demand, making their colorless, slightly umpa loompaless debut, with commentary and all, somewhere in this mess of shameless material, I present to you (with some surprise additions), my future profile picture -




1. This is my current profile picture. I think it does a pretty good job at getting the point across that I think my blog is a joke and don't take me too seriously.








2. This one looks like Clint just poignantly pontificated and I'm saying with my body language that I'm listening and I think I like what he's saying, but please, continue on with your pontification so that I can further assess my position on the topic.








3. This is my favorite face to make at Clint because, with really tight ucky looking lips, I beg and plead for him to kiss me. He doesn't.








4. See, now this one looks like I'm bragging about the amount of hair I have.








5. Ahh, my favorite face to make. What's not to like? I'm smiling and my eyes look bright and colorful. Also, it's a good security picture as it shows I'm not red eyed and doped up.








6. "Oh Clint, you're just so funny. I love it when you poignantly pontificate. Please, continue on. While I'm listening to you wax poetic about your miter saw, I'll just sit back and listen, all the while tilting my head to one side and demurely smiling at you."








7. Okay, now can you see why Clint has such a complex about my chameleon-like facial expressions? This one is priceless. Best one yet.







This little gem was overlooked and not in my previous post, so here is number

8. It's like Gene Simmons and the Joker had a love child






9. Funky Funky Fresh Psychedelic Jaylee





Again, same rules apply when voting or not voting. I wonder if anyone thought I had taken them off my blog because somehow my dignity returned and I was feeling remorse for showcasing this little freak show. Sadly, dignity is not one of the names my other 10 personalities go by.

Thanks H. for the shout out to my new profile picture. Several months ago, I was having a security background check performed on me (that almost sounds kinky) for a job I had applied for, and was required to send in a snapshot so they could more accurately witness whom they were dealing with. I guess they were making sure I was actually of a white trash origin, like the checked box clearly stated, and not of some other infidelic creed. I had Clint take a few, but for some unknown reason (to bug Clint), I kept making stupid faces right before he snapped the picture. He actually squirms and looks away when I construe my face; ergo, I'm a consistent face construerer (welcome to Jaylee's blog, where your learn a new word every day!). It's my sad little way to get a reaction out of him. However, I understand his disgust at anything outside of the normal realm of my appearance. Back when we were dating, for Halloween he dressed up as a woman, complete with mumu, wig and lipstick, and I could not look at or speak to him while in he was in drag. It was weird and uncomfortable for me to see him like that because I could not find the cute boy I liked underneath his Revlon Creamy Coral lipstick. I spent most of the night away from him because I was so creeped out. So, cut the guy a break, right? Anyway, I'm taking suggestions as to what to use as a profile picture. I have a few to choose from, some good, some not so good.





1. This is my current profile picture. I think it does a pretty good job at getting the point across that I think my blog is a joke and don't take me too seriously.









2. This one looks like Clint just poignantly pontificated and I'm saying with my body language that I'm listening and I think I like what he's saying, but please, continue on with your pontification so that I can further assess my position on the topic.








3. This is my favorite face to make at Clint because, with really tight ucky looking lips, I beg and plead for him to kiss me. He doesn't.








4. See, now this one looks like I'm bragging about the amount of hair I have.








5. Ahh, my favorite face to make. What's not to like? I'm smiling and my eyes look bright and colorful. Also, it's a good security picture as it shows I'm not red eyed and doped up.








6. "Oh Clint, you're just so funny. I love it when you poignantly pontificate. Please, continue on. While I'm listening to you wax poetic about your miter saw, I'll just sit back and listen, all the while tilting my head to one side and demurely smiling at you."








7. Okay, now can you see why Clint has such a complex about my chameleon-like facial expressions? This one is priceless. Best one yet.




In summation, if you prefer a picture, please leave a comment with it's corresponding number. If you could care less what I put as a profile picture, but you still won't be ousting me from your feed reader, please also leave a comment letting me know that you're letting this post slide. I will admit I have a bit of a complex about the quality of my postings and sometimes feel like the only girl in existence who would post such unflattering pictures of myself. But, I'm crazy to think that, right? Right?



On a side note, I think it would be beneficial for me to put a cap on my use of parenthesis in one post. I'm not sure why I'm so prone to use them (Yes I do, it's to help me from going off into tangents because (true story) my brain functions like this (if my brain were a picture, it would be a speech bubble with a bunch of tiny speech bubble friends all attached) and it helps keep me in check so that I don't start going on about why my brain chemistry = high probable outcome of being abnormal) and I'm sure it's becoming annoying to see.

"A loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a sticka butta" - Sesame Street

Do your husbands ever call you from the grocery store on the way home from somewhere and ask you if you need them to grab anything? Mine does. He's very helpful without being asked to be helpful. Do your husbands arrive home an hour later then was necessary to pick up milk and bread? Mine does. He's very helpful when he's at the store and picks up things that I didn't even request. Do your husbands purchase things that you have never and would never purchase for your family? Mine does. Like collard greens for instance. You can't have enough collard greens. Anyone have any good collard greens recipes?