Dogwood - Firewood

I wish I had a picture of the beautiful flowering dogwood tree that stood prominently in my backyard to the side of the swingset. The blooms lasted longer than any other dogwoods on the property and were the most perfect specimens.

That is, until my husband, in his infinite wisdom, chose to put in horse-shoe pits in the back yard. Alas, my beautiful dogwood was deemed to be "in the way" and while I was away, down she came. I returned home to a pile of limbs and the remnants of that 15 year old dogwood tree.

My husband is lucky he is not ambling about with a horseshoe stuck up his ass, because, trust me, it almost happened.

My beautiful dogwood for pitching? Seriously, I own 13 1/2 acres of ground - he couldn't have picked a better, spot to put pits? And in my backyard no less? So now when I go to the window to admire the view, it will be marred by sand pits, backstops and rebar. I should kill him-skewer him on his own rebar. Ack!

But, since I cannot put back that which was unceremoniously chopped down, I shall simply have to kick his ass at pitching. Hmmph!

How to Excite a Redneck

On Sunday morning the fire siren blew and the husband, child and I were off to lend service to our neighbors.

This call was for a dog stuck in a drainpipe. My husband went to the hall to get our gear, whilst the Boy and I went to the scene to "scope it out."

When we arrived, we learned that it was, in fact, two dogs stuck in a drain pipe with a very angry groundhog. The wirehaired terrier and the westy had the groundhog pinned and, in fact, the westy was laying partly atop the groundhog's head. It was surmised that the groundhog would need to be euthanized so that the dogs did not suffer additional injuries. For surely, once one dog was rescued, the groundhog would attack the other, or the three would begin the fight again. It was decided that the groundhog, being a worthless creature, would be shot in order to safely rescue the wee-pups.

Now, to the part on how to excite a redneck . . . .

Once we learned that we would get to do some small game hunting in a drainpipe, we and I mean we all, jumped to see who got to go home for a gun first. It being Sunday, we all had seamingly left our firearms behind. I offered the .38 or the 9mm - too much power. We settled on a .22. I have a revolver and a snubbed pistol, but a long-gun it was to be. Off raced my dear friend to retrieve a .22 with which to dispatch the ornery groundhog.

We redneck firefighters stood around salivating at the prospect of the smell of gunpowder on a sunday morn, when the westy backed out of the drainpipe with help from a pike pole. Covered in blood, the westy was whisked away to be cleaned up. Peering into the drainpipe, it was discovered that the groundhog had, in fact, managed to make a stealthy escape through the maze of drainpipes. The wirehair was rescued and all was right in their world again.

It was with sadness that we all retreated to our vehicles and homes, as we had all gotten very excited and were let down tremendously. No sunday shootin for us.

So, the moral to the story? It is easy to excite a redneck, the prospect of shooting and killing one of God's more ornery and worthless creatures is but one way. The prospect of shooting and killing one of God's more tasty creatures is but another . . . I think I'll have venison for dinner . . .

Eye Candy

Nuff said!

50 Years Young!

I want to take this opportunity to wish a very happy birthday to my blog-cousin Tink.

She is 50 TOMORROW so go wish her the best. I'm saying happy birthday today cause I don't blog on Saturdays.

Oh and so that your 50th is just a little sweeter . . . here's a little something I had stashed away in the closet for just such a celebration! They are at your beck and call! *wink, wink*

The World is an Ashtray

Many of you know that I recently returned from an extended weekend at the beach. It was wonderful. The temps never got over 90 degrees, the sun and clouds were beautiful in the blue sky. Everything was grand.

Except . . . why is it that when persons who present themselves as normal decent people, shit all over things that are not theirs?

Take for instance, the lovely lady who had set up her beach spot directly behind mine. She was a chain smoker. But, as we were in the great outdoors, I did not mind. After each smoke, she put her butt out in the sand. That was ok too.

After which she dug a hole with her delicate foot and promptly deposited said butt in the sand covering it so that others around her were none the wiser.

What gives? What makes a person think that that is ok? Just because the beach is covered in beautiful exfoliating sand - does not mean that it is your own personal ashtray. Be considerate of the person who will pick that spot tomorrow. Surely you would not want to be laying on decaying butts. Common sense says that with the first strong wind or two those butts will be exposed.
You have just littered, ma'am!

Since my three year old was within ear shot, and the lady left before I had the opportunity to unleash my anger over her stupidity - I did not tell her what I thought of her and her kind.

Great swaths of sand does not equal giant ashtray! Don't be a butt - dispose of your butts.

Ok, now that that is over, here is a lovely picture of the boy in the surf!

Back from the Beach!

It's Monday, here is how I feel:

Wishing I was back on this beach! On a side note - the Boy is cute even when he's being silly!

Beachy Keen

I'm headed to the beach for the weekend! My little guy and me need some mommy - boy time . . . hopefully my laptop won't get in the way!

See ya'll Monday!

Assateague - HERE WE COME!

Attack of Three Year Old Body Snatchers

There must have been a rattle in my humm, or a disturbance in the force because this weekend my three year old, was - well - three.

Every thing about him. Usually, he is well-behaved, listens attentively, never talks back and never displays an unruly toddler moment.

This weekend? He was a different child. It took all I had to restrain myself from completely throttling him in between my insane laughter from the thought of his about face.

Not only was he defiant, he was openly hostile, ran from me when we needed to "talk" and made comments and gestures that normally would garner a quick ass-beating.

But as I said, I was laughing from the sheer lunacy of it all, and he was crying from my shrill attempts to keep laughter and anger in check that I didn't have the heart to beat him.

No, instead he was met with wimpy mom-a mom who I usually reserve for children who are not mine.

Take for instance the trip to Costco - where he told me - nay demanded that I buy him a certain toy because "he said so." Then there was the moment when I told him to sit in time out and not only did he say "No" but ran from me - MORE THAN ONCE! Seriously, my angel child turned into a demon child in a split second and all I could do was laugh. He was held down in time out, and then he was sent to bed, but not before I realized I sounded exactly like one of those mom's I'm always turning my nose up at : "if you don't . . . I'm gonna spank you . . . I mean it" and I didn't. If ever he should have been spanked - I missed the moment. Trust me, he was thoroughly wounded after being reprimanded in front of several people (he hates to be embarrassed) though. But I'm not usually that mom, and he is not usually that child.

I'm not sure what was going through his brain as he knows that he just cannot test the waters, but he was.

But in the end, he got his. My trusty two year old pal made sure he had his share of pain this weekend. He has a very large bruise on his noggin and two very scraped knees. Oh, and a little wounded pride too.

Me? I'm just glad the weekend is over - and he has lived through it! I'll chock it up to being three, and maybe just a little too much sugar.

How was your weekend?

More from the McCutie Files

Since I've absolutely nothing to say today (too tired) and I must pay some bills,

I will just give you some pics . . . with context.

In this first picture, we have the boy standing before a beautiful fountain in Philadelphia (one I have in fact jumped in, in the past) and trying hard not to damage his retinas from the sun.

In this next picture we capture the boy attempting to climb into the T-Rex exhibit at the Natural History Museum.

And lastly, here is the boy, with sad face, after getting reprimanded for climbing into the T-Rex exhibit . . .

Even scrunched up or sad - he is still a cutie-pie