Meaner than a junkyard dog

I didn't see any junkyard dogs today, but I did visit a junkyard. What, doesn't everyone unwind on the weekends by going to the junkyard? No? Well, maybe it's just my husband who gets a charge out of recycling scrap metal. He's got to be the only attorney in this county who spent his Saturday morning hauling metal. We all need hobbies.

See, there's lots of old farm equipment around this place, most of which has been sitting around rusting and flaking lead paint for decades. But now, well, now it's worth $$$. Apparently, the price of all kinds of metal has been steadily rising so that all that rusted crap is worth hauling 20 miles around the lake to the "Metal Recycling Facility." The newer, fancier name for the junkyard.

Let me tell you, the sight of 10 acres of metal trash and the heavy machinery that moves it all around is enough to make a grown man (mine, anyway) wriggle with excitement. The guys running the place really defy description. These are the people that I see at the state fair, or the one tractor pull I attended (and the last I will ever attend), and I wonder, "Where the hell are these people hiding the rest of the year?" Now I know--they live in old trailers on the back roads and work at the junkyard. The three guys we saw had maybe 10 teeth between the three of them, and all were certainly paying their fair share of the cigarette tax to the state. But really, who else is going to work at the junkyard? Ivy League graduates with radiant smiles?

In the end, we got a grand total of $91 for the truckload of scrap metal that's just been rusting in the woods for years, so I guess it was a worthwhile trip. Even if I didn't get to see a junkyard dog and decide for myself if Leroy Brown is really meaner than one.

huh

I have a blog. Shouldn't it be harder than this? And shouldn't I be hipper than this? I mean, telling people "I have a blog," sort of implies some familiarity with technology, right? Like, wouldn't you assume that I know what the hell I'm doing when I turn my computer on? Wouldn't you assume that at the very least I would have a cell phone? Well, you'd be wrong on both counts.

I know, I know. You're thinking, "What kind of weirdo doesn't have a cell phone?" Oh, this is a story. A story involving a city girl in the country, a lifestyle not too far removed from the 19th century, and maybe some sheep. A story that this blog will tell, in some amusing (let's hope) detail.

Stay tuned! (Who do I think I'm talking to here? Like anyone actually reads the first post of a blog. But I figure it's for posterity, for when I have loyal readers who want to read all my archives. Hey, we all need dreams.)