Tuesday, April 7, 2009

The somewhat amusing and somewhat productive day

It has been an interesting day, to say the least. It started out good enough. I decided to do more work in the field since I'd like to get it seeded as the rains come back. I have a neighbor in a little rental cabin to the south of me. A rental cabin that S2 fantasizes about buying, which would be quite nice. Anyway...this neighbor is a log truck driver and a cancer survivor. Had he not told me his vocation I likely would have guessed just from the stereotypical truck driver way of speaking. He is also a pretty darned depressed individual. After telling how badly the world has messed with him, how he lost his truck, hasn't been able to pay rent, it's all Obama's fault, he failed a drug test and now will likely lose his CDL, thus his vocation, and on, and on...Then he says: "so if you hear a gunshot, come check on me." Uhhhhh. I think I have talked with this guy maybe three times. I don't know much about him personally, so haven't a clue if he is serious, or if he even has a gun. Darn. What to do. Meanwhile I have unburied a boulder that is bigger than I think I can tackle. I don't want to stop and give this guy my undivided attention (was that wrong?) so I kept chipping away and got the darn thing out in pieces. I am mentally willing one of the neighbor's on the other side to open her window, or come check on ME! (Nothing, I must have lost my touch.) An hour or so (probably more like two, but I really don't know) goes by, the sun is now shining directly on me and I am as wet as if I had taken a shower, but was impressed that I was actually able to chip the darn boulder out of its resting place. I am feeling seriously parched and hungry, but not willing to move out of the pasture. Nice enough guy, but something about him keeps me on my guard. FINALLY he leaves and I wait about five minutes and gather the dogs and head into the house. Had I been talking to a kid and they were talking of suicide I would have begun to research options. Instead I head over to my other neighbors. The man had just got home so I was able to talk to him about it. After the few obligatory guy comments he assured me that he would go over should I hear anything suspicious. He also cautioned me NOT to go by myself (well, duh). I love these neighbors. I can always count on them, and it is nice.

So I take a break and drink two bottles of water and head back outside. I feel like I have done nothing as the two things I needed to get done (the straw bales and the grape arbor) were not even started.

I placed the straw bales beside the driveway. This will be part of my veggie garden.

I then went to work on the arbor. I got the posts placed and the wire set, but haven't tied it down yet. I used a couple pieces of baling twine for now, and will get it wired correctly tomorrow.
(Ignore the mess. Henry's agility stuff and the hoses are just thrown in the corner and I didn't edit the pictures at all. Sorry.) Any way, you get the general idea. Tomorrow I will place the grape plants.
I then found another Windy sized rock; this one is staying...unless the neighbor to the south comes back to chat again. I haven't found the edges on this one. I think it is an iceberg rock. When I started there was about 12 by 6 inches showing.
These are some of the remnants of the rock that I chipped out of the ground. Now look, over to the left toward the middle/bottom of the picture.
See that green/yellow tennis ball tucked part way in a hole? If you want to feel really old, you can say to someone: "Do you remember when tennis balls were white?" Go ahead, I dare you!!

A physically, mentally, and emotionally tired,

Tennis balls were WHITE?
REAL funny! They were white, and we took a felt pen and wrote our initials on them and took them to school for baseball during recess. Where were you?
Tennis just wasn't a happening thing when I was in school. I know it sounds weird, but I never had a tennis ball when I was a kid. I didn't run into tennis until I was in high school, and I have no idea what color the balls were, can you believe?

I finally have some peace and quiet (my four charges are all abed and the late night blood sugar has been done) and something just clicked. Big burly truck driver that just stood there and watched you bash at that rock? He's seriously out of touch with reality if that's the case. Call a suicide hotline and get some advice, is my advice. Here is a place to start.

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