the Infamous May Long Weekend

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have arrived. Middle-aged-dom welcomes me with open arms and I'm racing, in sensible shoes, towards it's gentle embrace. Despite my attempts to stay as radically far from the slippery slope of growing up I find myself grasping at the grassy precipice (quite literally) on the brink of tumbling into full on lame ass grownup. That's right friends, I'm planting a garden this year.
It's Kritie's fault really. She's pressuring me into it. I don't like gardening, but she makes a valid argument for the responsible use of our land and an appropriate destination for our compost. Ugh. I just loathe the idea of wearing muddy shoes and wide brimmed hats while digging in the muck because it's a practical and economical idea. I'm against economically, environmentally sound decisions! At least I was once.
Anyway - I got a wicked forearm workout Round-up-ing the dandelions. I guess that's the upside. Either way d-day (aka may long weekend) is rapidly approaching and you all know what that means - the garden must get in. The official countdown of my waning coolness has begun.