What a day to get creative

First of all, I had to get up this morning at 3:30 a.m. because the dogs were barking. "Hush, you muskies!" I yelled down the stairs, but it was to no avail. They barked even more, now having someone to talk to. I got up to let them out.

I made a pot of fine Kalossi coffee, which is from the island of Sulawesi in Indonesia and is a fine brew indeed. If one is to begin the day by rueing it, one should be properly fortified with fine coffee; that is how I feel about such things. Are we clear on this?

And so, I sat there in the dark living room on the ground floor of our home, listening to my darking bogs dig for truffles in the minefield that was formerly my backyard, and I thought it would be a fine day to get things done. This is usually a bad idea, and once again, I failed to learn from bitter experience.

My first stop was to be Walgreen's, where I was planning to drop off a roll of film from my Olympus XA2 camera. This is a clever little camera that is known for its ability to...well, not much of anything, really. It is just a cool camera and I like it, ok? And I have developed (get it, developed?) this habit of keeping it with me all the time and taking photos wherever it seems appropriate. Mostly out the window of my car. That's kind of odd, but there you go. I'm sprinkling some examples in around here.

Then, I was going to go to Lowes, the expensive Uber Hardware Store that has caused all the Western Auto and Ace Hardware stores to go pretty much belly up. But I need to go there anyway, because hey, no
more Western Auto.

Then, I was going to go to to the local donut store and buy donuts. Yes. Sigh. We have a freaking "Krispy Kreme" donut store here. No, I won't go to it. I just don't like them. Krispy Kreme donuts are very, very, greasy and they are directly from Satan's bottom, is what. I eat one of those and I spend the rest of the morning in the bathroom leaving landmines behind enemy lines, not unlike the dogs.

But it was not to be, at least not right away. See, I found this street festival in downtown Wilson, they called it "Art on the Block Fest" and Mrs Wiggy decided she wanted to see it. So ok, off we go to see it. But it was kind of a bust.

So, I'm back to getting things done. I've got these two Azalea plants that I've purchased the other day for Mrs. Wiggy, and now I'm going to plant them. All she has to do is tell me where to dig the hole. Which she does. There are protractors and compasses and strings and sticks involved, but I won't go into all that now. Suffice to say, when the dust settles, I am fully equipped to plant two small Azalea bushes - that is, I know where to dig the holes.

And dig I do. Until my back is nigh unto breaking, I dig. I dig a lot. Yep. North Carolina has a lot of clay, did you know that? Well, it does. And it is heavy. Sticks to the shovel.

So, there it is. Don't you think I did a good job? I know I do. By God, I am domesticated - I have planted...a shrubbery. Actually, two of them. From Monty Python to Rocky Horror to planting freaking bushes in the front yard. What the hell happened? One day I was a punk rocker. The next day I was gardening, for God's sake.

But what the hell. Embrace the horror. Did I tell you that I murdered most of my yard? Well, I did. I put down weed killer. And since my yard was mostly weeds, that killed it all, more or less. Left it looking like patchy mange, is what. So I decided to kill it some more. Here we go, strong chemicals.

Well, once I got done killing the lawn some more, I figured I'd better put some grass seed down. So I bought some grass seed at Lowes, and spread it around. Then I was going to water it in, but Mrs. Wiggy got all creative and read the directions, and it said that I needed to aerate the soil. I'm thinking what the hell are they talking about? Aerate? Like with air? Do I look like I have some huge air compressor laying around, I can pump my yard full of it? I tell Mrs. Wiggy that I'm not going to aerate the lawn. It can damned well aerate itself.

But then Mrs. Wiggy had a brainstorm. She asked me if I still had my late father's old golf stuff, which yes, I have. Then she mentioned that she thought she had seen a pair of shoes with golf spikes on them somewhere around the house. Ah-hah! Aerate the lawn! Clever girl.

But she was only joking. Ah, but I wasn't. Hehehehe. I went and found those shoes.

Note to self: Walking around inside the house with these on is not the smartest thing you can do, especially if you have hardwood floors. OK, then.

Now, no one should have to tromp around in their yard with golf shoes on, doing serious aeration work without a beer, you know? So I asked Mrs. Wiggy (since I had my special shoes on) to Beeru o kudasai? Which she did, because you know, I speak a little Japanese from when I was their emporer. So here you go, slancha!

You always have to prime the pump, you know. No way to do serious yard work without a nice long tug at a cold bottle of beer. Makes me steady. Sometimes I get so steady, I can hardly move.

Now, I want you all to know that this is not my fault. Mrs. Wiggy took these photographs, and she thinks that I have a, er, cute butt. So I present this photo for all the women in the world. Weep and gnash your teeth, because this butt belongs to Mrs. Wiggy. And for you guys out there, sorry dudes.

Here I am practicing my ceremonial Lawn Aeration Dance, soon to become a new dance craze. Someone is going to drop a net on me, I know this. But what the hell, it's a fun ride while it lasts.

Once I got all that done, with holes nicely punched in my dirt yard every couple of inches, I retired to a well-earned nap on the front porch. Ah, my toes need freedom.

And if you look closely, you can see the new shrubberies in place - the dirt is slowly turning to mud in the sprinkler and washing all my new grass seed down the street. We're going to have the greenest gutters in town, I swear.

So here I am, ensconced in my little town, slowly learning the ways of homo sapiens domesticus. And as long as I have beer, it's cool.

Keep Weedin',

Wiggy