IN WHICH DADDY WILL HOPEFULLY NOT MAIM HIMSELF SATURDAY

Postponed twice, the big brush-chipper is being delivered on Saturday, and I get to feed two years' worth of accumulated cut and downed branches into its gaping maw, and perhaps fill in some of the swampy spots in the yard at the same time. The whirling of the blades and spewing of wood chips would probably get a WHOA, FREAKIN' COOL out of Beast if he were but a few years older, but for now the little guy doesn't much care for the loud noises. Perhaps Noodle will like it, but in any case they'll be watching from a distance if at all. Her Awesomeness has disturbing visions of coming back from the park with the kids to find nothing left of me but my leg protruding Buscemi-like from the chipper.