Since I\’m sure you\’re all chomping at the bit for an update, I\’ll toss you a few scraps about my lawn. The turf has mostly recovered from the close call last month, but a large weed contingent has taken full advantage of the grass\’ weakened condition. And after my chemical misstep, I\’ve become too chicken-shit to use any weed killer. You\’re welcome, weeds. Everything is still nice and green, but there a several more species of plant life out there than I\’d like to see. The worst offenders, by far, are the offensive offspring of several large Mimosa trees that just happen to be growing in the detentnion pond by the driveway. They are my new nemeses. Not only are they puking up thousands of little leafy weeds all over my yard, but their trunks and roots are destroying the concrete infrastructure that enables a detention pond to work properly. Naturally, they are flourishing in an incredibly awkward location. I could *probably* get to them with the chainsaw, and I could *probably* cut them down while standing in the knee-deep water without killing myself, but then I would have to dice them up while also standing in the creek and somehow haul them out. While not, by any means, an impossible project, it is one I\’m going to try to coax the City of Smyrna into performing since, in addition to removing the trees, the detention pond itself is in need of some pretty serious repairs.
As I stood there staring at the broken-ass drainage system and the junk trees polluting my yard, I grew very tired and frustrated.
I decided it was high time to snatch up a fistful of my property\’s shirt collar and deliver a couple swift slaps across it stupid, natural face. Now, I am what you would call allergic to danger lettuce, so, despite the 95-degree heat and crushing humidity, I donned long pants, a long sleeve shirt, and safety glasses before rousing the nature eraser from its slumber. This very rainy, very warm summer has caused the underbrush in the backyard to, in botanical terms, go apeshit. \”I WILL FIGHT APESHIT WITH APESHIT,\” I shrieked as I sprinted through the gate, eraser above my head, throttle wide open. Apeshit indeed:
After 20-30 minutes of solid weed whacking, Tony and the nature eraser took a break, AJC-style:
You see that catch basin in the last \”after\” picture? I\’ve known for a while now that there is a log lodged in it, but there\’s nothing I can do because not only do I not own a wood chipper on a stick, I don\’t even think they make one. I suppose I could cram a broomstick up a beaver\’s ass and poke him at the log is all else fails. While the city is out fixing the detention pond, I may have them take a gander at the catch basin, too, because it\’s only getting worse in there:
While clearing out Mother Nature\’s recklessness, I also discovered something else interesting that I had never noticed before. My foot sank into a hole and, upon closer examination, I discovered some sort of subterranean concrete slab. The curious child in me thought, \”Cool! Maybe it\’s a sarcophagus full of treasures and really old Egyptians!\” But the much larger, louder property owner in me was more like, \”Awww, DAMNIT! What is that?! If there\’s some sort of erroded sinkhole under that slab, I\’m TOTALLY gonna see SOMEBODY\’S ass in court! Honey! Iron my lawsuit pants!!\”
On Saturday night, we met some friends at the Brickstore in Decatur. It was bitchin\’. They\’ve got Old Chubb on tap. They were slammed busy the entire time we were there. It always warms my heart when a bar ostensibly for beer nerds is packed to the gills:
And, on the seventh day, Wheaties, got into the new camera: