GEORGE AND MORE GEORGE

I do not pay attention to details. My proof-reading is absurd for someone who alleges an aptitude to write - my house-keeping is enhanced solely by the use of low-wattage light bulbs (you can't see the dust using 40 watts) - I get simply SLOPPY about almost any project I undertake.

And I assume - which, as my husband, makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'. I believe that everyone else thinks like I do - that people are honest, think the best of everyone, and do their jobs to the best of their ability.

Yeah, I know - 'SUCKER!!"

So I tacitly (naively?) 'assumed' that when I spoke to Sonny - the same man who I contacted and paid to cut up and MOVE to my house eight utility poles - about putting those same poles UP and INTO the ground - that he would then come equipped to put UP those poles.

Unfortunately, Sonny had a slightly different concept. That he would bring the huge, mechanical digger-thingie (I have no idea what you call 'em), and someone (I didn't quite understand who at first) was going to help guide the poles in, fill back in the dirt Sonny had dug out with the huge, mechanical digger-thingie (let's call it "George" from here on) while also running the hose to keep the dust down but NOT turn the dirt into mud - and do that SIX times.

I did two - and then admitted defeat, and called upon my wonderful neighbor Cherie's kids to bring shovels over and earn $10 apiece doing the shoveling/dirt part (putting George's regurgitation back where it came from) while I handled the hose part (I'm good at water - see previous blogs).

Do you think anyone has actually read this far? Do you think I can get away with my 'real' news? Or should I keep interspersing random musings about erecting of my horses' first actual shelter (besides the slight shade offered by the numerous mesquite trees in their pasture)?

Of course!

So this is what today has been - erecting (doesn't that verb just sound SOOO inappropriate for this?) poles (BIG cut telephone poles - BIG 'uns) - hearing from my almost-but-not-quite tearful son about he and two co-workers finding a one-year infant face-down in a pond, him calling 911 as the other administrated CPR. The paramedics took over, got the baby breathing on his own, and then he was airlifted to the major hospital in Chicago. Josiah was having trouble dealing with the other two guys joking about it - we talked about the line in the song "I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral' (didn't I just write something about lyrics the other night? Wow, water and words - I'm on a roll).

Something back to dirt - let's see, if cost me $30 for the Rehiel kids to help, and I do have a definite sunburn just on the back of my neck, but my 53 year old back is still intact (sore, granted, but intact). Then my second daughter calls from, no, not work or her apartment, but the emergency room. No accident - she got mad at work, cut on her arm with (yes, this is real) with a plastic knife. I'm not certain who saw her, or who she told, but they called 911 and she ended up at the hospital.

Did I mention that my husband did come out and help some this morning? He also went over and helped a neighbor who was moving - an incredibly inactive member of our ward who had dropped out of sight when she divorced her abusive husband, had gotten remarried, and was moving up to Mesa. I'm glad he went over to help her - as well as about half our ward.

So after getting the phone call from the hospital, I see a stay dog on the highway home - dodging traffic - so I slam on my brakes, and spend about thirty minutes trying first to get him in the truck, then calling Bill for assistance, spending about twenty more minutes trying to get him into Bill's car, and then (thank God!) someone drove by, recognized the dog as their neighbor's, and took it home. HURRAH!

Paragraph here of taking a shower after this morning's construction job and realizing I had more dirt on my body that I thought possible. It wasn't that the water was brown, it was almost BLACK. Can you think of a song with black in it - we've got to stay with the water and lyrics thing, and perhaps even bring George back into story, right?

Final topping - it's 9:30 at night, and my husband had an 'accident'. Guess who is doing the laundry tonight. This day has been more than a little surreal. And I have a very bad feeling that I am not going to be able to sleep tonight.

Wow, what a wonderful story.