It still cracks me up, that is how one reader reviewed my blog on a Top Running Blog thing. It’s the best sentence ever written. I’m using the words SAM HELL in every sentence from now on. Sam Hell is not used often enough.

But to make things very clear this is most certainly not a Running Blog – it’s a Penis Blog.

With that settled, let’s talk about my entry way. The statue I waited 2 years to find is going back to the store today; it arrived stained and scuffed – which is unacceptable, so we picked out a new piece that I’m not quite sure about.  What do you think: Before on the left and After on the right? If you vote the correctly, I’ll let you see my penis.

We had to dig everything up and start from scratch so we could put in drains. With the exception of the retaining wall that was already there, we’ve done all the stone work ourselves. Which included me walking around the yard digging up rocks to line flowerbeds until I ran out and had to buy them. And FYI – after I leveled 4 tons of flagstone and shoveled 3 tons of decomposed granite – I’m not liking the patios – you can’t sweep decomposed granite – all the loose pebbles are making me insane!

It’s still a work in progress – but here’s what we’ve done so far. Now we get to start on the front yard and begin putting in the vineyard.

The past several weeks I’ve been tied up in our garden and reworking the landscape – including all the hardscape because we are having drainage issues which leads to mosquito issues. All. By. Myself. And by “myself” I mean I’m letting Michael help me on occasion. (That’s a whole other post coming soon.) I’ve had to make many, many trips to the stone and rock place that is just around the corner from us – loading up what stones I can lift and will fit in my SUV. I’ve lined all our flowerbeds with rocks to divert water and I am making flagstone patios and putting in French drains. Worship me because I am a Drainage Solving Goddess.

A few days ago I was at the stone place and saw a rock I liked. A rock a little bigger than would fit in my car, but by comparison to other stones there it was tiny. It was a lot cheaper and way cooler than the fancy bench I wanted to buy from Frontgate. It would be like having my own little Stonehenge next to my pool. I envisioned a cushion, a margarita and me getting a tan while enjoying the landscape I slaved over the past month. So I bought the rock and scheduled delivery. All 1800 pounds of it.

The rock showed up in the back of a 1960s Chevy pickup, with a crow bar and one old man about the size of a toothpick who planned on dumping it right next to the driveway.

The look on Michael’s face was priceless. And the only thing he said to me was “Next time you buy the world’s largest boulder, make sure you arrange delivery AND installation.” The old man in the pickup was very kind. We grabbed a friend and a few steel pipes and car jack later and we were in business. The skill at which this old man could maneuver, roll and balance an 1800 pound rock with a mere crowbar could rival the skill of any veteran yoga master.

I love my rock so much I want to marry it. And as soon as I power wash it and make sure it’s insect-free, I’m going lick it all over. Then I’m going to find a pillow and sleep on it in my sexiest pajamas.

I can’t wait to tell all my Christian neighbors it’s where I’m going to slaughter my goats. Because I’m nice like that. Okay, I have to go and finish the patio – I have three tons of decomposed granite outside calling my name.