Upgraded: Barking, Raving Lunacy to Mere Ambition

Greetings, inhabitants of the blogosphere. This is Rob, joining you for the first time. When Mary Ann heard that my neighbor Super Steve and I were going to be building the fence ourselves, she looked at me as if I had started wearing bedsheets and moved into a yurt in Krakpotistan. After all, Fluffy has been a pretty good infant as far as those things go, but he still howls for hours at a time and has gassy periods where you might as well tie a ribbon to his big toe and let him float around like a screaming balloon.

And I must admit that MA has a right to be unnerrved by the lumber stacking up on our porch. There is a large pile of railroad ties that have been there since the time that many of you were still arguing that they were going to find WMDs any day. But, thanks to Super Steve, we finished (well, 90%) the fence this weekend. Here it is, in all of its glory.

We made it jog a bit so that our backyards do not feel like bowling alleys. Those are 10 foot 6x6 posts, each of them has a special notch on my vertebrae. (and you all should send comments in support of these hollyhocks--Mary Ann has gone Lilburn Boggs on them and sent out an extermination order).

I can't quite go so far as to say "Oh ye of little faith," because our bathroom still has holes in the floor that could swallow a microwave oven. But at least the fence is done-ish, and any snide comments about the rag stuck into the vacant tiolet pipe can be countered by a wistful glance toward the back yard. Lunacy and ambition--it's a fine line.