Guy Work

For the past several weeks, I've been living in a boys' world.  Not that I've ever been able to live in a girls' world-I've just never been exposed to this much guy work and guy dirt at one time in my life.

Chainsaws, army cranes, dumpb trucks, diggers, etc.  To be quite honest, I don't even know the names of all the machines that have been parked at my house the past several weeks.

My father-in-law has adopted this as his project.  I'm not sure that he intended to do that, but he has.  He's called in friends, friends of friends', and slowly but surely, they are getting rid of the big oak that fell about a month ago.  

We've seen a lot of action.  A lot.  Men show up to work every morning and put on a good show for Burl.

We all know how much Burl loves a good show.

Every morning, sometimes before breakfast, we have our outside playtime.  Burl gets to see his Granddaddy, some other fellows, and machines at work.

Then, Burl gets to work.  I wish I knew what he was thinking.  He is so busy playing out there.  Sticks. Rocks. Mud clumps. Dirt. Water. Buckets.  He stays busy.

And he stays dirty.  Very, very dirty.  

When it's time to go inside, he goes to the window.  He's not missing a thing.

This is his dream come true.