It felt good to get out there for a couple hours and dig out ivy roots with a pickax again.
I've been out of the game due to wedding duties, but I had a few hours to myself today (after I completed the few hours to myself that I spent lazing around with a book), so I girded my loins (well, I put on sunscreen) and ventured out to the ivy patch for some ivy killin.
I don't know what I'm going to do for therapy once the ivy is gone. There is nothing like yanking a dachshund-sized root out of the ground with the help of your trusty pickax and tossing it onto the pile of formerly-vanquished dachshunds to make a smallish female feel like a Riveting Rosie.
I've been out of the game due to wedding duties, but I had a few hours to myself today (after I completed the few hours to myself that I spent lazing around with a book), so I girded my loins (well, I put on sunscreen) and ventured out to the ivy patch for some ivy killin.
I don't know what I'm going to do for therapy once the ivy is gone. There is nothing like yanking a dachshund-sized root out of the ground with the help of your trusty pickax and tossing it onto the pile of formerly-vanquished dachshunds to make a smallish female feel like a Riveting Rosie.
It's the exact opposite feeling I get from going to the gym and ending up moving myself and my tiny weights to the corner to make room for the larger, more important-seeming manly, grunting types.I suppose there is no shortage of vines of one type or other here at Estate Von Kleine Schweine. Always something to kill.
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3 comments:
Grrrrr...you're an animal Baby...very grrrr
my roots need hilightin'.
Get yourself a red kerchief with white polka-dots. Problem solved, I say.
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