This might not exactly be "blogalicious", but it is true.
I hit my yard "running" this morn bout 8:30A and mowed that puppy with my ever faithful internal combustion grassolator. I then followed as always with the weedeater thing and the leaf blower hoodie doo after a spell of shrub trimming.
That was likely sufficient for an old fat boy to do in one morning, but I don't ever seem to be satisfied.
Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit cuz out came that dangnable power limb saw and I attacked the trees in the backyard like WWIII.
After bout four hours of that "stuff", the ole ranch hand dang near cratered. I am now licking my wounds (I'm scratched up worse than a blind berry picker) and trying to figger if I will ever be able to finish the last few trees in order to get this small piece of "paradise" into appropriate curb appeal shape to sell prior to moving to the Tin Star?
Ya'll pray for rain, (championships for the Longhorns and the Cowboys), and sufficient strength for this ole fat man to endure his back yard aspirations. I'm telling ya that I will be happier than a june bug on a tomato plant when this chore is done.
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