First let me pre-apologize for the post you are about to read. Consider this your fair warning and disclaimer. Based on the title - things may get... well, dirty... and if you'd prefer not to read further, I understand. Why not try a cleaner blog like.... Dooce, or I'm Bossy... er... well, nevermind....
And if you don't ever come back after this - can't say I'd blame you. But enough with the pre-apologies - let's just get on with it.
Yesterday was a gloriously sunny day for the middle of March around here. Spring is beginning to emerge. A wonderful break from the usually dreary days that never seem to end this time of year.
The high reached a whopping 61 degrees so the little punk and the dog(s) and I headed outside to check things out. (*Sidenote: We are currently +1 in the dog department. My Aunt's dog Duke, a Golden Retriever, is here hanging with Roxy while her mom and dad are off "on holiday" in Italy. The two of them always have a grand old time together.)
The little Mr. requested the, "FA-BA" be brought out with us... I happily obliged. You'll see it here in the background.
I was instantly taken with how gorgeous it was out... The trees are beginning to bud:
The daffodils are popping up all over...
Even my one and only hyacinth has begun to say, "hello."
As I gleefully flitted around the yard, camera in hand looking for signs of spring, I absentmindedly, emerged from behind the lens only to take a shocking look downward.
I was standing in a verifiable mine field. Ewwwwww... An entire winter's-worth of Roxy's little presents lay strewn about everywhere. With all the snow we had acting as camouflage - I had NO clue our backyard had become such a war zone. I froze.
Instantly my head spun around searching for my WAY TOO CURIOUS little guy... as flashes of Spalding yelling, "Doodie" in the swimming pool on Caddyshack raced wildly in my head. To my relief, he was giving me a look of utter disgust as well.
"Uh, lady... How am I supposed to work on my spiral when the field's condition is downright deplorable? I think you'd better get crackin' sugar."
So that's what I/we did. My foreman grabbed a rake:
And I grabbed a shovel and a cardboard box out of the garage and got to work. I have to say, my boy was REALLY on top of his supervisory role. He even managed to keep the dogs occupied with the tennis ball while I got down and dirty. Well done, you.
Finally, after a solid hour of being bent over that box, the land mines were cleared. I found it rather ironic that the side of the box said this:
Oh, I'm smiling alright. Smiling in disbelief at the sheer volume of my haul!.... (DO NOT SCROLL DOWN if ya don't wanna.... well... ya know.... see it." All I can say is...
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Holy crap.
I warned ya.
And the thing is... Roxy only weighs like 60 lbs. I saw an English Mastiff in the Petsmart parking lot the other day... He was only half grown and weighed 150 lbs! The owner said when he's full grown he'll weigh close to 270! Heck, you'd need a bucket loader to pick up all that doo-doo!
I'll consider myself lucky.
I would however like to make one last formal apology to the following:
1) my loyal readers, I've crossed the line, but I just couldn't help myself
2) that Amazon box, I'm quite certain it never expected to be hauling THAT
3) my garbage man
Thank you.
