My New Hobby

Football's done, baseball is just getting started, and all this wind and cold has really hampered my diving, so I've been needing a hobby.  I tried crocheting, but the old ladies down at the center were intimidating with their advanced triple butterfly loop stitches.  Plus you had to get there real early or all the good thimbles were gone.  I thought I might just try to build some model cars, but after being closed up in my house with two and a quarter tubes of Testor's model glue I decided to switch to model rockets, which just ended in a broken window and an arson charge.  So I went to Sports Authority to pick out a good activity. Roller blades were 50% off, but the thought of 12 year old girls showing me up or guys hitting on me compelled me to leave with nothing.
I was having a hard time coming up with things to do, so I really had to think about my best assets.  That sure took a long time, but I realized my best attributes (besides holding my breath and/or destroying things) are 1.) I own a truck, and 2.) I like dirt.  That, combined with the fact that most of the dirt we used to own has slid down a cliff, logically led me to the sport of dirt hoarding, very popular in Kazakhstan.
If it doesn't sound exciting to you, then you've never driven a truck with a payload of twice it's rated capacity down the freeway.  What's even more harrowing is navigating the ungenerous alleyway where my most fertile dirt collecting grounds are found.  A moped could definitely fit down the alley.  Two could even go in opposite directions- provided that they were jousting and one would be knocked down to leave room for the other to pass.  So maneuvering the F-150 with a veritable boatload of dirt in the bed is a slip of the hand away from turning into a monster truck rally scene, with street-side chainlink fences getting trampled like a Walmart greeter on Black Friday.  And if that doesn't sound cool, consider that after loading half of Nuuanu into the bed, my truck becomes a low-rider.



One key tool to hoarding dirt is a wheelbarrow.  Now, most people know what a wheelbarrow is, but few know exactly where the word is derived from.  What it is, you see, is a barrow with wheels.  That should pretty well clear it up for most of you, but some may not be familiar with the exact definition of a barrow.  A barrow, as near as I can tell from my personal use, is an item which, despite having only a few of the most rudimentary mechanical parts, will break on a regular basis.  "Regular basis" is of course defined as inopportune times, like when it's filled with 200 pounds of dirt, or when your shin is just about to come into contact with it if it stops it's forward movement.  Given these definitions, it's a wonder that Ford hasn't come out with a whole line of them.

So far we have talked only about obtaining dirt, a barrel of fun indeed, but just getting it isn't the end of the dirt party!  It's barely the beginning.  It's only just started once you have driven your truck home, scraped the sagging bumper up the driveway, and loaded a wheelbarrow full of dirt.  At that point, the world is in the palm of your hand.  There are any number of things you could do with a truck load of dirt.  Like what, you ask?
Well, statistics show that 71% of Americans have a neighbor with an annoying little dog.  How much would you love to just wheel right up to it and with a tip of your barrow drown out its noise with 4 cubic feet of soil?

Sometimes you just smile from the joy of digging (called digger's high), but that's not the case here.  Standing on a pomeranian just feels like floating on a cloud.  Or, if you really want to feel like you're flying, why not catch some sweet air by building a ramp:

Or, just leave the dirt out and wait for the rain, at which point some of mud's natural denizens will undoubtedly spring up:

Whatever you decide, there is really only one thing you can't do with dirt, and that is build a yard out of it.  I know you want to, but first you must realistically calculate the amount of dirt you will need.  In order to do this, estimate the number of truckloads you will need, raise that number to the third power, multiply by 5, and then go look up more pictures of mud wrestling, because by the time you ever finished building a yard a new geological era will have dawned and you will find your new yard under sea level or in the middle of a volcano anyway.  Trust me, I've seen it happen:

That's about the same amount of dirt as you would find in the entire state of Iowa, and it's nowhere near a yard yet.  Anyway, enjoy your digging, because eventually will come clean up.  It's best done with a broom with a complete handle.  Here is what it would look like if you somehow broke your broom handle in half: 

The wheelbarrow has clearly been setting a bad example to the rest of the garden tools.