When the Earth Moves and the Sky Rains down

With nothing better to do in our lives then sit around and apply for home equity lines of credit, we opted to spend the summer free-balling whilst playing in the dirt. It's always a comfort to leave the homestead at 4:30am looking like this (only darker because, you know, it's 4:30 in the morning) and coming home at 6:30 to find your forest, for which you often just only see the trees, has been robbed and left looking like this. Not to bitch and moan too much because we did order the new driveway, it's just that girls need some notice. If it wasn't for the total hot sex daddy running the show, I might feel less generous about making coffee and Danish for the workers in the morning.

And wouldn't you know it, the day the excavators come to clear out several decades worth of brush and rubble, ignored scrub trees and trash which have been piling up against our old stone wall, a freakishly large thunderstorm blows through Barryville this evening and downs a huge limb hanging precariously over our house right onto the kitchen porch. Why, if it hadn't been for me being firmly ensconced on the sofa about 30 feet away, watching the TiVo'd Project Greenlight from last night, I would have been crushed . Luckily, the Great Garden Gnome, Alaska, was on duty and his kind short-person magic not only keeps the petunias vibrantly magenta, but also shelters the compost-giver and gentle waterer (which is me, kittens).