
There, don't you feel smarter, knowing that?
Yesterday was an example of serendipitousness.


But, obviously, to rip up that much land, I need to rely on machinery rather than brute strength (with a shovel and my 54 year old back, I would need to begin as soon as the game is over to have it ready for neat year).

Here is where the serendipitousness begins.

Cherie is the perfect neighbor. And I mean PERFECT.
She knows just about everything about EVERY animal - she knows when I should call the vet, or just borrow something from her medicinal stash - she is someone I can call at 2 a.m. when I can't get hold of the border patrol or the county sheriff - her kids have taken care of MY animals for years when I am in California or Hawaii (really, people, where else do I go?).
And she has a tractor. A big and REAL John Deere tractor. Which I borrow every year. And sing the "Green Acres" theme song the entire time I am using it to plow the mud football field.

I do feel guilty every year when I call Cherie, after not talking to her over the past year any more than 12 minutes, and ask to borrow the tractor and the attachment. - but only for about 14 seconds (I have an extremely high guilt threshold).
But this year - it just happened that she was helping out a friend with a personal emergency, was going to be probably overnight, and wanted to make certain her kids had several contact numbers JIC (just in case).
And, therefore, I was one of those numbers she needed, just at that particular moment when I was calling to ask HER to borrow the tractor.
Guilt, be GONE!
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