Tell me the truth here, people. Honestly. I need to ask y'all a question: Is it just my husband, or are your men like this? Do they ask you to do bizarre things when you least expect it?
I came home from coffee with the neighbor gals yesterday. John met me at the door and told me to come outside. So I did. To see this:
He told me that I needed to help him take this tree down. (It's been sick for a long time.)
Really?! I asked in disbelief. Now? But I'm wearing a skirt!
"You don't need work clothes. I used to do this with my dad when I was only ten years old," he said. "So I know you can handle this."
What exactly are we talking about here?
"You're going to pull down this tree."
"You'll be perfectly safe and this will be easy, I promise."
Um....OK. I walked over to the spot to which he directed me and took the rope that he thrust into my
So what do I do? I eyed him and the pulley contraption suspiciously.
"Just start walking down the hill by the blueberries, and pull the rope taut behind you as you go. You won't have to pull very hard. I've got a block and tackle set up to do the real work. When the tree comes down you won't be anywhere near it. I'll be here by the tree with my chainsaw." He pointed to the wedge that he had already cut from the trunk. "Start walking!"
Now? This time I eyed him dubiously. I eye my husband in a variety of ways; often several times a day.
"Yes! Now!" *chainsaw starts doing it's thing* "GO, JULIA! NOW!"
So I walked carefully down the hill, pulling the big black rope with me. And what do you know? This thirty foot monster tree came crashing down exactly where John had told me it would.
"You're quite a lumberjack, babe!" he exclaimed as he fired up the chainsaw again and began lopping off tree limbs.
I had to admit that he was right: I was. A lumberjack in a skirt wearing a dumb stupid knee brace.