Written by Aphrodite Beamish

Copyright The Quipping Queen 2005.


-- Or, how to avoid doing things you shouldn’t do in your yard --

By Aphrodite Beamish, a half-witted, hey-nonny-nonny harridan and makeover maven of bliss-challenged, breathtakingly bewildering if not botched-up backyards of America

The dog days of summer are clearly upon us, judging fromrepparttar plethora of pesky pets and people to be found gadding about in nooky-conscious neighborhoods of America.

Statistics say, (and you known those nifty numbers never lie), that seven out of ten Americans prefer to spend their leisure time lollygagging at home rather than lusting out and about inrepparttar 151034 dens of impropriety and iniquity. So, ifrepparttar 151035 ‘moral majority’ is just a tad hot and bothered this summer, it’s not surprising that 84% also want to “revitalize their outdoor living space” (provided they haven’t gone bankrupt remodelingrepparttar 151036 kitchen and renovatingrepparttar 151037 bathroom).

For those with decadent dreams and a dismal credit rating,repparttar 151038 following advice will warmrepparttar 151039 cockles of your heart (more than a new hot tub, patio heater, or a blinking barbecue).

Here arerepparttar 151040 top ten things not to do in your backyard this summer:

1. Do not make your back nine more “wilderness-friendly”, (we already have far too many Big Birds, Pink Elephants, and One-Eyed-One-Horned-Flying-Purple-People-Eaters schlepping around sampling pet bowls for freebie eats and drinks than urban dwellers can cope with).

2. Avoid Extreme Fantasy or Humungous Backyard Sports (like Tiddlywinks’ Tournaments, Toe-Wrestling Competitions, and Classic Hopscotch Games which cause far too many injuries to adults who enjoy acting like kids, Billy goats, and jungle-gym bunnies).

3. Squelchrepparttar 151041 need to showcase one’s nincompoop avocations, (whether they involverepparttar 151042 storage of rusted relics or recycled refuse including pitted pick-up trucks, beaten-up bikes, limp lawn-mowers, well-worn what’s-its, whatever’s, and whatnots).

A tale of the hunt

Written by Gregory J. Ballan

My good friend Brian and I love hunting. We’ve been chasingrepparttar elusive Whitetail deer all acrossrepparttar 150734 fields and woodlands of our home state of Massachusetts. Now, Massachusetts isn’t regarded as a great hunting state, but there are deer here, you just have to gain access torepparttar 150735 privately held lands that are a goldmine for hunting. This is what happens when two guys with a knack for getting into trouble stumble upon a supposed good thing A tale ofrepparttar 150736 hunt Brian called me up one evening early inrepparttar 150737 fall of 1992. HE had stumbled uponrepparttar 150738 fatted calf of deer hunting property. The Huneywell Estate borderedrepparttar 150739 towns of Natick and Wellesley and contained several dozens of acres of prime woodlands. Brian and his brothers had been doing a barn restoration forrepparttar 150740 Huneywells and spent his lunch hours scouting and perusingrepparttar 150741 woodlands in this fine estate. Well he had worked uprepparttar 150742 courage to ask Virginia Huneywell for permission to hunt on her property this upcoming hunting season. Ms. Huneywell agreed, on top of that Brian got to drag along number 1 sidekick; ME!!. We prepared an intensive scouting foray intorepparttar 150743 woodlands in order to cut some fresh trails parallel torepparttar 150744 deer paths. This would allow us to stalk quietly and limit out exposure to allrepparttar 150745 thorns and briars that inhabitedrepparttar 150746 lower woodlands. Brian had given me some initial data pertaining torepparttar 150747 land in question and we had made our plan. We had permission to machete two paths that ran along her horse farm about 100 yards deep intorepparttar 150748 woods. We took my truck over and parked it onrepparttar 150749 corner of her property and walked intorepparttar 150750 woods. Now I've been in some nasty scrub before, but these woods were a nightmare. There were bogs, underground springs which made huge muck puddles before forming into a creek bed and more thorn bushes and briars then I had ever seen in my life. After an hour we managed to hack our way torepparttar 150751 first path. We cut a small trail about twenty feet beyondrepparttar 150752 path and then began hacking our way next torepparttar 150753 trail. These thorn vines seemed to be made of iron, and didn’t; cut too easily. We both began to sweat and drew every blood sucking mosquito around for miles. We were both carrying packs full of gear in order to set up two observation stands where we could glassrepparttar 150754 deer and study their movements. We had cover scents, treesteps and our stands along with all kinds of other hunting crap that only two morons addicted to deer hunting would even consider carrying around. As I said, our progress was painfully slow, and we lostrepparttar 150755 sunlight. We were right inrepparttar 150756 middle of this huge expanse of woods as twilight faded and darkness ensued. "Wonderful, Brian! Whererepparttar 150757 Hell are we?" I asked as I fumbled for my mag lite which had migrated torepparttar 150758 bottom of my pac. We looked at our compass and kept heading due east. Well, as if cutting through dense brush was bad enough inrepparttar 150759 daylight, doing it inrepparttar 150760 dark was twicerepparttar 150761 fun. Perhaps two hours later we stumbled onto an unlit road that seemed vaguely familiar. "We're on South Street" I reported in disbelief, "Two miles from where we parkedrepparttar 150762 truck." So we started walking, two muddy, sweaty guys in camo clothing and large machetes. Well, we passedrepparttar 150763 time talking and kibitzing like to old men at a gas station, allrepparttar 150764 while I would swing my machete performing some katana techniques while explaining each movement to Brian as we walked along. We ignoredrepparttar 150765 headlights from cars as they passed us and basically just tried to makerepparttar 150766 best of a bad situation. We got turned around somehow,repparttar 150767 two great hunters and trackers extraordinaire (we vowed to keep that little fact a secret...until now). The time passed rather quickly as we yapped and laughed. We approached my truck, finally, and spotted three other cars parked nearby. It was too far away to determine who they were so we just both took note ofrepparttar 150768 cars and approached with a little more care. I admit that I held my machete a little tighter as we got closer torepparttar 150769 truck. As we came close enough to make outrepparttar 150770 cars I realized that they were police cars, and that there were officers standing besiderepparttar 150771 cars.

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