Guilty

I plead nolo contedere to the charge that I tend to be overly effusive when it comes to my family, but when you've had a day with perfect weather, great food, and the best of all company with Deb and Craig, what can I do but gush?  Craig fixed the door to the hen house that I've been having to tie closed because the door was coming off the hinges and the hasp wouldn't fit any more.  The Kids have always asked what needed doing when they came up, and now we have a system.  I have a note board on the refrigerator and write down things that I can't fix, build, whatever, by myself, and when the Kids arrive, they look at the board and try to take on one of those tasks, dependent upon time and tools.  Sometimes it's simple stuff that just needs an extra pair of hands (like the door), and sometimes they get together and arrange a Chore Day at Mom's to tackle something big. 

Tree Guy and son also came over yesterday to split the cut rounds we'd brought up from the goat pen last week.  I couldn't help them this time because I had company, but I have a log splitter and left them to it.  I did tell them that Dave had said there was something or other than shouldn't be tightened down, but since my only participation with that particular piece of equipment was occasionally being allowed to run the ram and/or stack the split wood, I wasn't sure what the something or other was.  These are guys, and I figured guys would know about these things without further explanation.  Deb, Craig and I chattered away in the house, and in the back of my mind I heard the splitter going, not going, then going again, but had no concerns.  It wasn't until late afternoon when we went out to fix the door that I discovered two sweaty, tired men splitting wood by hand with axe, maul and wedge on wet wood.  "Wet" means logs that haven't been aged; much harder than "dry" wood.  While I thought the guys were perhaps taking breaks, the splitter had been running and dying and they were doing the job by hand.  That is capital W Work!  Had I but known, I would have called Dave right then.  Later in the evening I did get the answer; it's the gas cap that needs to be backed off so the machine doesn't vapor lock.  Such an easy fix.

It was almost dark when the Kids left, and Ruthie and Esther balked at going into the dim barn.  Fine.  Just fine.  Trekking back up to the house, I grabbed the ball cap with the tiny, but bright, LED lights in the bill that Deb and Craig had just given me for such an occasion, toddled back down to the barn and lighted the way for the scaredy-cat goats.

All's well that ends well.