On using shovels for purposes other than grave digging

I always seem to be missing some tool, device, or knowledge that would complete my domestic bliss, if I had it. A month ago it was a rolling pin, but we problem solved with a full wine bottle. Two months before that, it was a ladle, which I improvised with a measuring cup. This time, it was a shovel.

I had to bury the dead.

Just kidding. But I am a pro at digging animal graves. Living in the country where my sister and I adopted every possible creature as a pet (which led to their untimely death), taught me how to grieve quickly, dig a hole, slap a cross together with two sticks and some twine, and etch a tombstone with a sharp rock. But I digress.

My mother dearest gave me a rose bush for Valentine's Day. She's the only living organism on the planet (all the others being dead in their animal graves), who loves me, and I had neglected planting her token of love, due to the fact that I had no shovel, and I wasn't about to go all paleolithic and start clawing at the earth with my hands.

The day she brought it by (February 12th), I had planned on asking my sister or Handy Dan (the neighbor) if I could borrow a shovel. It was a long weekend due to President's Day, and I had all intentions of burying the thing, er, I mean planting, on Monday. It was even a decent day. The thing was, I forgot that my sister would be at work, and I had neglected to pick up the shovel beforehand.

All this to say the rose stalk and roots (because it's not a bush yet) sat on my back patio for a week. My mother warned me when she gave it to me that it would die if I didn't plant it immediately. But sometimes your brain or your schedule doesn't work out, so immediately ends up being 8 days later.

It was a gorgeous day today, and I had my sights set high. I would weed my bark chips (because there's not enough there to call it a flower bed), pick up the pine branches that had fallen, and plant those rose roots.

I dialed my sister to see if she was awake yet. No answer, but she did finally change her voice mail greeting to say her new last name. And she took off that liar part about how she'd call you back. I resolved to start on the weeding and branch picking-up, and then call again when I was done.

An hour and brownie break later, I called again. Then I just drove over there, because she didn't answer, and I figured she must be outside. Upon arrival, I discovered no one was home. Both her and my fake brother's vehicles were gone. I went home and maybe checked Facebook or watched trashy MTV shows or something. I can't quite remember. Actually, I was probably reading C.S. Lewis.

Finally, I called my fake brother and he told me that he was at his grandma's house and that Jess, my real sister was at a business workshop. I said "thanks for nothing, you marrying into the family has really helped me a lot." But then my sister called me a half an hour later while on a break, and told me where the shovel was, and how it wasn't locked up, it was just being guarded by three Rottweiler dogs, collectively weighing 289 pounds.

After going to her house again (btw, she lives two blocks from me), I sidled up to the six foot cedar fence. I heard barking. "Hi Thor," I said. "It's just me. Your Aunt Jo Jo." I could hear him sniffing. I struggled with the latch and then opened the gate. His big scar face head made me think for a second that I was in the ER with mutilated patients. Jess told me he had gotten in a fight with his brood, the young and viable Squishy, but I had no idea it was this bad. One of his eyes had practically been ripped out and then stitched back in, and hair was missing from behind his ears. I won't get into the details of how the fight happened, but just know that Squishy weighs 118 pounds, which is more than me, if you really want to know. He's a force to fear.

So I'm shoving Scar Face out of my privates, trying to walk to the dog kennel, to get the shovel that is supposed to be near it. Thor's really excited, because he's had no friends for a week, since he was in rehab. I see the other two dogs are locked in the kennel. I spy the shovel, grab it, and manage to sneak out while Thor is distracted chasing a butterfly or something. Or maybe he was taking a poo, I don't know, I didn't look back.

I locked the gate, put the shovel in my car, and drove home to plant my rose bush (which remember is really some roots and a stalk at this point). Only it wasn't actually that easy. There are a lot of extra steps you have to take, but I'll spare you the details. This isn't the home and garden channel.