He sent me photos of it from his phone, and got the “Um, okay, sure….”. It took 4 dudes to load it into the truck. Slight problem. We don’t have 4 dudes to UNLOAD it from the truck. Regardless, he looked pleasantly hick driving his plow home.
The horses? Not amused. Moderately concerned, in fact, that work could be a possibility with that thing. Until we explained it was just a ranch ornament, lawn-art, if you will. Phew, horse crisis averted.
So the plow sat, for a week, in the back of Art’s truck, rendering it useless to drive (cruising thru the Central Valley with a plow in the back of your pick-up is okay, cruising thru Silicon Valley with the same plow in the back of your pick-up truck is apparently a different story, and is simply not done….okay, whatever) On Saturday we had a bbq for Greg’s 40th birthday (officially a Feeb…..another one bites the dust….). We invited Rob and Marianne, Liz and Paul Fraley. Ulterior motives were heavy….He-Fraley was all for it:
She-Fraley was having none of it. Smart girl, that one. I took pictures, which, at one point got me a nasty scowl and a bitter “You COULD put that camera down and come HELP, Lisa” which prompted a very thoughtful response of, “No, not with that attitude I couldn’t” And indeed, I would have just been in the way. The chickens agreed, they watched the unloading from a safe distance and with more than a little chicken suspicion.
Everything was set up exactly as it looked in Art’s head. Concerns were voiced over 1) the width of the plywood ‘ramp’ vs. the width of the scary-heavy plow, and 2) the strength per square inch of plywood vs. the span of distance it would be required to support said scary-heavy plow. Both concerns were waved off by a very confident He-Stine. Eyebrows were raised, but it was agreed, the scenario pictured in Art’s head sort of made sense, and could just work. Art the Husband does a lot of thinking about things like this, so there was a fair decent chance his plan would work just fine.
But it held, as AtH had predicted, and the plow came home to stare down two prissy horses and grace the front of the barn with a little bit of California agriculture history. And give the chickens something to play king-of-the-big-iron-thingy on.
Fraley, Rob and Art got our bikes out of the barn and cleaned them up, oiled parts, adjusted brakes and took them for a spin around the driveway.
Fraley likes my bike, even though I could see his vagina when he was riding it. Trek is a good bike. I love that bike.
Horses still weren’t sure. Andretti was drawn into their discussions, they filled his brown-dog brain with all sorts of doubts, ending with the possibility of Brown-Dog having to pull that thing around.
Dinner was bbq shish-kabobs, grilled potatoes/sweet potatoes and corn. I got a watermelon at Costco for dessert, very good. Rob, Marianne and Liz went home after dinner and a completely mind numbing round of Star Trek Trivia, which Greg won hands down. A birthday victory, followed by a trip to the Dublin IMAX theater to see a midnight showing of StarTrek. I stayed home and drank rum and diet coke and pounded out emails to unsuspecting recipients.
Haa haaa haaa, a good day overall! I love holiday weekends.