I’m married to a lumberjack, a really cute, but grumpy, lumberjack. He must be a lumberjack because who else would take on the task of splitting a huge oak tree into firewood that will more than likely last us into the next decade. This tree is so big that if it was still standing, I couldn’t fit my arms around it. Scott and I both together, might be able reach around it, maybe. That’s a big-ass tree. Our friends counted the rings and it lived to be 68 years old. That’s not very old in oak tree years, but it was still big. See…
He’s looking a little tired, isn’t he? I couldn’t swing an axe for 5 minutes, much less 5 hours. Oh, and did I tell you, he’s going back to do it again in the morning. What kind of a weirdo is he?? Thank goodness wood splitting is NOT in my job description. I would be so fired.
Another really cool thing happened today, besides Scott finding a new calling. We saw a blimp. It came right over our neighborhood when we were getting the kids from the bus stop. We rushed home and ran out back to see if we could get some pictures of it.
The only time I have ever seen a blimp was at a professional ball game, and that’s been a long time ago. I’m not sure the boys had ever seen one. They were not nearly as impressed as I was, but it was a really good excuse to put off homework for at least another 30 minutes. Who needs to write their spelling words three times each when there is a perfectly good lumber business in their future? No one I know.
