My husband and kids were gone for the day. I had the whole blissful day in front of me, coffee in hand, a book, and a gorgeous day to sit on the deck and enjoy both.
I let the chickens out in the yard. I enjoy watching them, my buxom ballerinas with fluffy bottoms, flouncing around the raspberries jumping and twisting for the perfect berry. Bathing in the dirt, a cloud of dust surrounding them like Charlie Brown’s Pig Pen, they’re full of joy at the very thought of laying their precious egg in some unbeknownst spot that I will never find! They bring me peace for some reason. I was savoring it all when a loud crashing came from the woods and the girls sounded the alarm and flew for the coop.
My dog, Sheriff Shadow was on the case!
We’ve had multiple chicken homicides around here in these parts. Coyotes are the usual suspect, but bobcats, raccoons, neighborhood dogs and even bald eagles all have a mug shot on file. It was at this point that all of my fantastical ideas for a relaxing and peaceful day came to a blazing and abrupt halt.
I reached for the axe and walked down into the yard. Today was the day. It was time to get to work.
The daily spring deluges turned the girls outside pen into a mud pit, perfect for a couple of wallowing pigs but most definitely not appropriate for 7 classy ladies (and 1 ugly one).
The posts were in, there was just one crumbling, old log standing between me and a new and improved chicken run. The chainsaw was out of commission, the saw blade was dull, and I’d eaten way too much ice cream lately!
I decided I would simply chop that tree in half. The axe was sharp and I’d split exactly ONE piece of firewood before. Why not this old dead tree I thought?
Now let me just pause here a moment. I have brilliant ideas, lots of them. Way, way too many of them. In fact so many that they’ve managed to clog my filter of good sense and spill out at will. Too often leaving the affect of not having thoroughly thought through the task of which I wish to accomplish.
Of course, that wouldn’t be the case today. 
Feeling very in touch with my inner Paul Bunyan, I started swinging my axe. The first couple barely scratched the surface but then the wood chips started flying! Half an hour later, I’d made a pretty good dent in the tree, but come to find out that tree wasn’t only old and dead, it was also water logged. It was time for a break. After water and a few minutes of rest I was back at it, chopping away. It was all going really well until the muscles in my hand decided that they’d had enough. I pushed through the ache, but I knew it was only a matter of time before my grip gave out and the axe slipped and went through my shin. .
It was at this time that I realized that I would have been back from Sears with the new chain for the chainsaw already.
I started to miss Chief in Charge of Manly Things. Where was he when I needed him? Who did he think he was leaving me all alone with no children to complete this huge project?
It was at this time that their car pulled in. My husband and kids were home! I had hoped they’d find me napping on the swing with ice cream pooling on the cushion.
Why hadn’t I stuck with that plan?
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My little ray of sunshine popped out of the car. “Mommy, did you blow up my pool yet?” I’d previously promised my daughter that I’d blow up the pool she’d gotten for her birthday and apparently NOW was the appointed time. I pulled out the bicycle pump and went to work sculpting my “abs of steel”. Half an hour later the princess palace was wafting in the breeze.
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Ahhh, now this is the life!
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