Who WAS that harridan, that shrieking fishwife, that hag-like viper who appeared in my yard this afternoon, under the guise of helping her husband clean up yet more tree waste? Surely, that couldn’t have been MOI? Stomping her feet and growling and swearing like the proverbial drunken sailor (apologies to sailors everywhere)? Why, I don’t act like that. Ever. Well, maybe just this once. SINCE I HAVE A FREAKIN’ MOUNTAIN OF DEAD TREE IN MY YARD TO BE HAND CUT AND JAMMED INTO FIFTEEN CONTAINERS AT A TIME, WHICH BY THE WAY, IS ALL WASTE MANAGEMENT WILL PICK UP AT A TIME, BUT WHICH MAKES ALMOST NO DIFFERENCE IN THE SIZE OF THE PILE!!! Ooooops. Am I yelling again, she asks meekly?
Oh, I tell you, folks…this is the gift that just keeps on giving. Giving you nightmares, that is. Not to mention blisters on your hands, fire ant bites on your ankles, sawdust up your nose, and a really foul temper to cap it all off.
Where is that rainbow when I need it? As I sit here with an ice pack on my foot–because of course when I tripped, I smacked the foot with the serious nerve damage in it on a tree limb and set off blowtorch-level burning pain–I’m having to dig way down deep for the memory of that “rainbow where one should never have been” miracle. But it’s still in my Memory Banks somewhere (talk about miracles), so I am working on accessing how I felt that day in order to get me through the rest of this one. Isn’t that what miracles are for? To help us through those days when we are so mad our teeth itch and lightning shoots out of our eye sockets? Yeah. A good miracle can get you through some pretty nasty stuff. But a flame thrower would be better. First, I’d burn down this mountain of debris in my yard, and then I’d go all Chuck Norris on the tree contractor’s backside. Now THAT would be a mood changer!
Hope you guys are all having a nicer Sunday than I am. But the good news is, I WILL live through it, the Good Lord willin’ (as my granny used to say), and tomorrow WILL be a better day. If for no other reason than Mark will be back at work, and the chainsaw will be back in the garage until next weekend. And that harridan of a shrieking fishwife will probably be gone, too. Mostly.
Who's Your Granny? 
OH, I do feel your pain. I’m afraid you are going to have to come to terms with the fact that your yard is going to be full of mountains of tree stuff for a while. But each week…. EACH week … a little more tree-junk will go. You’ll get into a routine, and you’ll see the progress. Inch by inch, you will get your yard back.
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Thanks, SC! I’ve calmed down a good bit. It was just such HARD, sweaty work, and way too hot to be doing it, and I had grit in my eyes, and my arms are scratched to heck and back, and I was just LOSING it. We have made a lot of progress, though, and will probably have most of the work finished next weekend. Well, at least the debris pile should be done by then. Those enormous circles of log four feet across will take awhile longer. All the SMALLER logs, though, are cut to length and stacked neatly in the far back part of our side yard, where they aren’t such an eyesore. So…as you say, bit by bit, inch by inch, it will get done. If we don’t fall face down in the sawdust from exhaustion and croak. I’m betting on us. We have faced worse things and we’re still here. So, I think we’ll make it. I appreciate your words of encouragement.
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I’m sorry about your tree pain. They’re beautiful when they are standing upright full of green, yellow or red leaves. On the ground, not so much. I just had to check out Sharechair’s other friend Marcia. I know it’s expensive, but we’ve had many a dead or dying tree removed. In the long run it’s not worth getting hurt by a bunch of prickly pieces of dead wood that don’t know where they belong, and want to lodge themselves in your foot or ankle, behind, eye, wherever they should know that are restricted areas for them. But what do branches know? They are as dumb as a block of wood! Happy blogging anyway! 🙂
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Thanks, TCHG! Nice to “meet” you. I love my trees, dumb blocks of wood or not, (grin) and would never have had any removed if they hadn’t succumbed to Sudden Oak Death. And even then, if we hadn’t already been scraping the bottom of our budget barrel, we would have used more trustworthy contractors. As it is, these guys suddenly decided they had done all they were going to do and walked off and left us with this mess, and us with no more funds readily available to call in anyone else. So…we’re stuck with various scrapes, injuries, sore muscles, sawdusted lungs, and other maladies acquired by having to finish up so much work ourselves. And at our advanced age, no less. I just keep repeating my husband’s mantra that 60 is the new 20 (which makes me a mere 28!) and thinking, I’m still a young whippersnapper. I can do this. And bit by bit, it IS getting done.
Now I’m trying to figure out what to put where the trees were, since the combination of the stumps and immensely tangled mound of roots pretty much means I can’t plant there. I’m thinking of a rock garden, with pots and urns of plants tucked into it here and there. Gotta do something to prettify.
So glad you stopped by and I appreciate your comments. Hope you’ll visit often.
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Marcia, Hugs and good vibes. I wish,I could help you. 🙂
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Yeah, but Felix…you might run into that harridan hag of a fish-wife, screaming and growling and behaving badly. It wouldn’t be good for you, mi amigo! She’s not a pretty sight, that woman!
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Thanks for the good vibes, though. I’ll take all I can get! Seriously, I think we will have most of it finished in one more weekend. Maybe. And we’ll live. Worse things have happened to us, though right this minute, I can’t think of them. But hey, a little hard work is good for you, right?
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BTW, Felix…I’m about half way through with Cold Days. Oh, that dang Jim Butcher! He’s just torturing me, now. It’s all I can do not to pull a Nicki and skip right to the last page to see how this one is going to turn out. HE’S KILLING ME!
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