rock hunt

Olive came by for a little visit this weekend and spent some time sniffing all around the flower garden.

"Hmm. I smell Gurdy and Willy and Astro and Diva and Boom-Boom and Oscar and Elliot and Catfish and Tallulah ...."

Me: "You darn dogs! You gotta stop pissing in the garden!" *shaking fist in air*

Olive: "Okay." Sez while quickly letting out a wee spray for the others to enjoy.

Me: "TIM! We need a fire hydrant back here ... Or ... a ROCK!"
Tim: "Okay. Let's go get us a rock."

It turns out that selecting a rock is much harder than we imagined.

It's a lot like looking for the very best pumpkin at the pumpkin farm. Every rock looks exactly like its neighbor until you start getting to know them as individuals. Then, they show you so many different personalities that it gets overwhelming.

Round gray rocks, colorful chiseled rocks, humble rocks, statuesque rocks. How do you choose?

We spent almost half an afternoon getting to know the homeless rocks, imagining as best we could how each one would fit in.  The workers left us to ourselves -- there was no meet-your-matching going on in this place.

After getting mad at ourselves for spending too much time on our rock hunt, it finally dawned on us that we needed to put each one to the test. The butt test. So we spent some time going 'round and 'round sitting on nearly every one.

"Hmm. This one is too pointy. And this one is too round."

"Lookit - This one has a great place to lean and put a coffee cup!"

Finally satisfied, we bought us a rock. Two, to be exact. One for my butt, one for yours. We heaved it into position next to the tiny oak tree where some of our dogs are buried. Olive gave it the sniff test and approved. 

But the real test was comin' up....

Jimmy woke up, stretched his long legs and blessed the rock as only an elderbull can do. Mission accomplished.