This weekend, I got out into the yard and moved all of the stone that the developer across the street left in the side of my driveway a couple years ago. Every stone was placed in the planter walls at the Stramski Way side of the property.
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Peeps.... I am one sore, advanced -middle-edged, pudgy, white, Irish- American Buckaroo. I mean, sore... as in my arms, thighs, back, knees, stomach, buttocks, etc. are all screaming for mercy.
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Rolling, lifting, shifting and placing fieldstone is something that this Mountain of a Man will not be looking to specialize in. You won't see stonemason on this MOAM resume.
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Sure, the wall came out handsome as hell, but that is beside the point.
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My hats are off to the colonial farmers who placed all of those fieldstone walls throughout New England. They must have been tough sons-a-bitches.
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