Digger.

(Big sigh.)

Now these are the same two who drove the truck into Santa Fe to rent a chipper shredder, the biggest one they could find.

Upon returning home, they did not stop for lunch.

They did not stop up at the house to say hello.

They did not bring in my groceries, including the two bags of ice.

No. No. No.

The male members of my family stopped barely 15 feet on this side of the ranch gate with THE CHOPPIING MACHINE (so dubbed by C.) in tow, and began to assault the first pile of brush they could lay their hands on. I saw the two of them during that weekend only when I too participated in CHOPPING MACHINE activities. When Dennis and I fed particularly big branches into the jaws of the hungry beast, C. yelled with glee, "CHOP! -CHOP!- CHOP! -CHOP!-CHOP!," as if the gluttonous behemoth needed any help.

I sure was glad to see the back end of THE CHOPPING MACHINE as Dennis towed it back to town on Monday morning.

Digger, huh?!

Men ... I sure love mine.

Flickr images: Shiites and Giggles; Todd Ehler; Rachel Pennington