I still stink . . .

. . . but, I'm making progress.

While I'm taking care of the "little stuff," Da Kid's been working on the logs, cutting them into chunks that would fit in a fire place. A BIG fire place, which I don't have. As a matter of fact, I don't have one at all. But he's stacking the logs (some of which he's even split) in front of the garage sure that all he has to do is put a sign up and people will immediately start lining up to buy firewood.

In August.

Wub my tummy

FYI

I just want you all to know that GuyK at Charming, Just Charming is going to be in big trouble. From now on we'll get to "hear" the OTHER side of the story.

His wife, Sweetthing, has just started her own blog.

I stink

A more appropriate title is, "I'm too damned old for this shit."

Just a year ago this tree had leaves and held a bird's nest. Suddenly it, like a few other trees in the neighborhood, was dead.

One neighbor announced grand plans last January to bring in a bucket truck that his stepfather has access to and while he was taking out his tree, that he'd do the neighborly thing and take care of Sheila's and mine at the same time. Not that after after knowing him all these years Sheila or believed it would ever happen, so we weren't disappointed when it never did.

Besides, "George" — Da Kid's brother-in-law — had already said he'd take care of my tree and Sheila's as soon as he and Da Kid had the same day off, and he could get his employer's bucket truck on a day when it wasn't being used.

When Da Kid was off George wasn't. When George was off Da Kid was working. And the few days they were off at the same time, the bucket truck was in use. Finally it all came together and they took the trees down before they fell down.

(Sheila's and mine only. The "other neighbor," who said he was going to take care of all of our trees, showed up in his usual "herbal haze" — when the work was done — with a pair of MANUAL hedge clippers telling everyone how HE would have done it, and what THEY -- Da Kid and George -- needed to do when they started on his tree.

George is a man of few words, not that he needed many when after hearing what the "other neighbor" was saying, he positioned the bucket he was in directly OVER his head and yelled over to us, "Can I?"

The "other neighbor" looked up, and then left.)

As his schedule permits, Da Kid's now cutting the big debris into manageable pieces. And I'm taking care of the smaller stuff, as I can, with my battery-powered, Black and Decker tree- limb-lopper-offer. It wasn't designed for what I've been putting it through, but even Da Kid -- with his chain saw -- has been impressed by it.

The only problem he has with it is that it's battery powered. Once the battery runs down, I can't cut any more until its recharged. After about an hour or so of cutting, it's out of power until I take the battery off the charger the next morning.

I've refused Da Kid's repeated offer to buy me a light-weight chain saw or a gas-powered tree-limb-lopper-offer, both of which he assures me would work longer.

Trust me. I ain't stupid.

When the battery's done I — once again drenched in sweat and my knees wobbly because of the heat — explained to him, so am I.