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We took a short break for lunch after getting the first half of stone stacked at home and then headed back out for the rest.

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Me.

Dirty, hot, and sweaty but smiling ear to ear because I was surrounded by rocks.

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While the yard man was picking up the second half of our stones with the forklift, my husband met a Marine. And if that wasn’t bad enough… he was also a fellow Vietnam Veteran. Much talking ensued. Sooo much talking. By the time they were done gabbing and ready to spread the rocks in the truck bed, the husband decided he didn’t want to go to the extra trouble and told the kid to just set it down as is.

I disagreed. Vocally and quite loudly. Naturally, I was ignored. I lamented hurting his new (old as dirt) truck and kept saying it wasn’t worth the risk of straining the engine and suspension. For that? I got ‘the look’. You know the one, the “how dare you question my manly logic?” look.

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We drove the 25 odd miles home on the back roads at 30mph with a squatted rear end and an overheating engine. The truck strained big time and we realized this second load was much closer to 2,000 lbs than the 1,500 we thought. 5 miles from home the temperature gauge was pegging out. I begged him to stop, but no. I swear at that point he would rather have blown his engine than admit I was right.

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We made it home, barely. With a smoking hood and a radiator that was literally boiling. I could hear it… he couldn’t (because he’s half deaf in one ear, thank you USMC) ergo it wasn’t happening.

Men!

You really are a ridiculous species.

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As the truck temperature came down from surface of the sun hot, we got back to work…

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And made a lovely little pyramid of stone. We’re definitely going to need another pallet or two to complete my vision of the perfect garden border. He says no, but trust me this is nowhere near enough.

Can’t say that I’m looking forward to another trip like that though.

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