I came home this afternoon and got out the post hole digger. Between 3:30 and 4:30 I got four holes dug, then I gave out. Tuckered down. I'm not nearly as able to dig post holes as I was when I was a 30-something rancher. I want to put in 6 posts this weekend, so I'll get up in the morning, finish the digging, then go to the lumber yard for 4X4s and concrete. I should be finished about noon, then I won't have to worry about coming home and finding my fence laying in the neighbor's yard.
It's been a slow news week. Bush isn't doing anything, Obama can't do anything yet, and Pelosi isn't able to do anything. No news is generally good news, although it doesn't sell newspapers. It doesn't give bloggers much to talk about either.
Christmas is upon us. It won't be long before Milady tasks me with dragging the Christmas tree from the attic. She's already got the stockings for the grandkids hung, so it's just a matter of time before she asks for the Christmas tree.
1 comment:
I actually bought a post hole digger at a flea market about fifteen years ago. I then learned what I was expected by The Boss to do with it. That night I took it out into the country forty miles away and gave it it's freedom. Dropped it into the Snohomish River from the SR 522 bridge, I did. And felt a lot better for it.
Gerry N.
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