I’m on my way to the landscaping store to get rocks for the chicken coop run and had to look up an older post I wrote. I did not want to repeat an extremely awkward experience that I had there a couple of years ago and required the correct language for my purchase.
I’ll post more about the coop run update and the rapidly growing mutants (i.e. chickens) but while I’m working on yet another hot and humid day (I seem to have a self torturing pattern of doing this) you can simply….
July 7th 2010
I, with the mandatory assistance of my young helpers, are embarking on a shed clean-out project and it is taking place on the HOTTEST days of the entire year. Why? Because when I get an idea I just have to move on it. Plus, the tale-tale odor of death and decay along with killer African Bees (I’m sure of it) swarming the shed hinted to me that some TLC was in order.
We have made some interesting finds…from old stuff we forgot we had to critters in various stages of anatomical decay. This project has become a huge biological lesson. My kids are quite the experts at sniffing out “death” and have been known to loudly shout “I smell death” as soon as they get that familiar whiff. Although, shouting this sentence truly becomes awkward when the elderly are around.
For the sake of those with weak stomachs I will not post the pix of the maggots having dinner ‘with’ the mouse. But here are some more appropriate finds…..
The killer African Bees
After experiencing heat exhaustion and dehydration I had to make a trip to the local landscaping store. Mr. Pavlov thought it would be a great idea to lay down a rock floor in the shed to help with moisture and really show some shed TLC. I was apprehensive when he told me the type of rock I wanted to ask for was called “Buffalo Farts.”
Buffalo Farts? [I echoed].
Yes. He absolutely assured me that this was indeed their proper name. But still my gut was twisted…somehow I could not envision the landscaping business advertising Buffalo Farts to the manicured lawns of the rich and famous. I can just picture the conversation:
“Hey Bob those are really nice rocks you have there. What are they called?” Bob (having great difficulty): “Buffalo Farts.”
But ok, I get that I am a landscaping ignoramus so Buffalo Farts it is. I confidently walked up to the counter in my sweat pouring state and declared,
“I need a half ton of Buffalo Farts.”
As awkward as this may sound, the real humiliation came with the extremely long pause, followed by the quizzical looks, and ultimately the deep belly laughter from big burly, tanned men. Big burly, tanned men who attempted to repeat my statement but were unable due to their fits of hysterics.
The moment turned into a prolonged comical session of partially spoken sentences – “A half ton…..A half ton of Buff…..Buffa…Buffalo Far….half ton of Buffalo Farts” followed by more hysteria while I stood in fake confidence self consciously soaking the floor with my sweat. Once they regained their composure and questioned the ignoramus they determined that what I actually required was #3 gravel.
Yes, #3 gravel has a nice ring to it and I can totally see Bob (fictional guy from my imagined conversation above) proudly proclaiming,
“Well, thank-you it is #3 gravel.”
Buffalo Farts or #3 gravel…same thing yet solid proof that “A good name is more desirable than great riches” Proverbs 21.