You gotta dig dig dig…

The sun was still up high and shining warmly when both I and my husband were done with our day’s work. It was a sure call for some more yard work. We’ve got a couple of parties coming up in the summer time, so it would be kinda mandatory to get the yard in shape by them. There’s so much to do, plus all the things that we want to do, in addition to the stuff that we need to do.

The first stuff went to the category of need to do. Husband gave our reciprocation saw to me and asked me to start sawing some branches into smaller pieces. The winter storms had cut off pine branches and sent them flying to our yard; one of them took the target scope – oops, start – from the hood of our Mercedes. We also cot off some overgrowth from the trees at the edge of our yard in March. I modified an old kitchen cabinet a bit to work as a saw horse and we efficiently worked through the pile of branches together.

The next project was to start planning for our brick grill; a task in the want to do category. We got a pile of bricks some time ago, leftovers from someone’s yard paving and from a fireplace they had torn down. We decided on a spot in our backyard; a nearly flat spot not beneath the trees. We measured it up, then marked the borders with a shovel. “Okay, you can start to dig now,” said husband, and I was like, now? “Okay, I need some inspirational music,” I said and took my phone out of my pocket, launched Music Tube and searched for Summer Stock Dig dig dig.

Nothin’s what you get for free.
You’ve gotta dig, dig, dig, dig for your dinner,
Never was a money tree.
And furthermore, my friends, I must repeat,
Nobody’s livin’ down on Easy Street;
And if you want to owe for groceries,
You’re gonna get an awful lot of “No sir-ee’s.”
You’ve gotta dig, dig, dig, dig for a dollar,
‘Taint as simple as you think.
You can’t purloin a sirloin
Or the butcher will put you in the clink.
You just can’t be a lazy bird,
You’ve gotta get off o’ your twig;
So you can afford your room and your board,
And it’s nice to have the price of a “cig.”
Say, you’ve gotta pay the fiddler man
If you want to do a jig.
You’ve gotta be as busy as a bee
To be a Mister B. I. G.
And if you want some dig-dig-dignity,
You’ve gotta dig, dig, dig, dig, dig for your dinner,
Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig.

The movie is one of my all time favorites – I’m a sucker for old MGM musicals, Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Judy Garland, Ginger Rogers… And so I dug. Dug until I had taken out all the moss from the designated area. Then it was leveling time, finetuning, and leveling again. Somewhere there we took a break to grill some cheeseburgers on the gas grill and eat while the Finnish ice hockey team beat Belarus in the World Championships by one penalty shot.

We went back to the yard to fit some flat stones for the foundation of the grill. Then we tried a few bricks for the measurements of the grill. Then we sort of got carried away and ended up dry fitting them all, resulting in a proof of comcept (POC, as we consults call it) grill we named Stonehenge. No, we’re not going to use it for grilling just yet (at least not much…), we are going to mortar the bricks and make it into a proper grill. But yes, we have enough bricks to do it.


By the time Stonehenge was done, my work gloves had holes in the fingers. I just bought them a couple months ago! I’ve been working a lot. Gotta get a new pair. And if someone could tell me where I could get a new back, I’d be thankful ;) Just kiddin’. Really working and working more is the best cure. In Finnish we say “se lähtee sillä millä se on tullutkin” – the cure is the cause.

Before hopping to bed, I played the hair dresser for my oldest daughter, trimming her hair from the side and applying new hair color (her hair is half black, bottom half since I don’t let her dye her hair all the way to the scalp).