Is Bruce Boxleitner in the house?

This whole crow business is getting out of hand! Not only are these birds still attacking me, but they're also waking up Stew at the crack of dawn. Aunt Karen suggests that Claire speaks crow and is instructing the birds to attack me, so I've now put Claire on notice. I'm watching her like a hawk... or, rather, a watch dog. Just last week, Stew awoke a couple different times to shut the bedroom window at 5:00AM because a herd (?) of crows was outside cock-cocking (I still laugh when I hear Momma refer to crow speak this way). After stubbing his toe on my head as he was crawling back into bed, Stew muttered something about "... getting a !#&% scarecrow." A simple apology for cracking my head with his foot would've been nice, but I guess his mind was elsewhere. Since I am the guardian of the household, I think it's my responsibility to handle this situation. Besides, giving Stew ownership of a task is like asking Claire to drive me to the dog park. The task might eventually get done, but you'll likely have to wait a few years for it. For example, ask me how the basement bedroom project is coming along... or basement bathroom... or basement walk-in closet... you get the picture.

So, does anyone know how I can get ahold of Bruce Boxleitner (aka "Scarecrow")? He starred in what I believe is one of Momma's favorite TV shows of all-time, Scarecrow and Mrs. King. Momma's a sucker for any show starring a former Charlie's Angel. This past weekend, I found Momma downstairs watching Shear Genius, a reality series on the Bravo network hosted by Jaclyn Smith (Kelly Garrett from Charlie's Angels). Anyway, I'm not real keen on the idea of building a scarecrow, and I figure Mr. Boxleitner could probably use the work. So, let me know if any of you have his number.

In the meantime, Claire's been playing "Boss Lady" while Stew and I landscape the backyard. As you can see from the first photo, she really knows how to crack the whip. She pushes us so hard that it tires her out. The second photo shows me with my tongue hanging out due to complete exhaustion. I don't get to rest long before Claire is screaming at me to start producing more fertilizer (or, as Claire calls it, bah-bah-bah-bah). Momma even helped out Saturday (she played the part of Flora, the Roman Goddess of Flowers). Momma was in charge of plant placement within the designated planting areas, while I was in charge of digging the holes in which the new plants would be placed. And Stew was apparently in charge of downing Budweisers in the garage while the rest of us worked in the yard. We found him "asleep" at his workbench at about 4:30pm, so we woke him up so he could make us burgers on the

Weber. Anyway, we put Claire on a blanket by the big Silver Maple tree in the corner of the yard so she could supervise our work around the big tree. Speaking of trees, Stew is getting his favorite wood checked for disease today. I think that's how you say it in human speak. What I mean is that an arborist is coming over today to look at the other big tree in our yard (Stew's favorite tree because it partially shades the patio where we entertain). The arborist is to evaluate if the tree is diseased and, if so, if it can be saved. Worst case scenario is that they'll have to remove Stew's wood. He'll never be the same if that's the case, so wish us luck.

Well, Claire is waking up from her afternoon nap, so it's back to work in the yard. Stew stepped in a pile of my fertilizer this morning, so now he's mad at me (as if it's my fault he doesn't watch where he steps). I don't think he has any idea of how much time and effort it takes to produce fertilizer on demand. He's so ungrateful.