Making the Most of That Effing Hour

Die-Hards: Mark and Sara Bunyan

So, here's how we spent our extra hour today.

While I was out in Amherst with Meredith, Mercy threw up and projectile-pooped from one end of the house to the other.  I blame it on the tree in the back yard that came down in the effing storm last weekend (yes, effing).  The tree was a beautiful Callery Pear tree--perfectly shaped and gloriously covered with little white flowers in the spring, and apparently highly toxic to dogs when its branches are strewn about the ground and within tasting range of curious canines.

After I scoured the house, myself, and then gave Mercy a bath, my parents blazed their way from  Connecticut and tackled the tree, the little toxic pears, and the bizillions of branches on the ground.  And listen to me on this--you really, really can't appreciate the true size of a tree until it's all in pieces on the ground.

In addition to tackling the tree, Mom stepped in a big glob of dog poop, Dad's chainsaw gave out, lunch was prepared and served, and we stacked a half-cord of seasoned wood from last year's pile. Mercy seems all better.  According to my calculations, Mom and Dad should be arriving back home in Connecticut right about now.

And speaking of poop, I'm pooped.  I'm sure Mom and Dad are too. I'm so grateful for their help.  They  still always save the effing day hour.