They are building a "residential and commercial mixed-use community" near my neighborhood. It's going in a big empty field that was bordered by trees. I liked that field. In the summer the yellow-green grass grew high, and caught the light as it swayed in the wind. It always made me think of that Norah Jones song, Come Away With Me..." I want to walk with you, On a cloudy day, In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high, So won't you come away with me?"... But the grass is gone now, and the trees will be soon. I always meant to take a picture of that grass, of those trees. (Yeah I'm always trying to take an artsy fartsy picture of something. I bet you do something weird, too. I just betcha.) But I never did. Shoulda, coulda, woulda, didn't. Oh well. At least what they are building sounds pretty cool. You can read about it here if you are interested.
Lenox of Smyrna
Anyway, there is now a humongous pile of dirt there. It's got to be 40 feet high. (I would love to know how tall it really is- my estimation skills are horrible. You know how people will say "It was about 200 yards away." What? I will never be able to do that. When I think of a yard, I think of the red yardstick that my mom used to threaten to spank us with. I can't imagine 200 of those end to end. Isn't that what you have to do to guess length like that? My brain just does not work that way. I don't get it, never will.) So every time we drive by this pile of dirt, my loving wonderful hot husband (thought I would say nice things since I am about to make fun) cannot help himself. He has to talk about it. "Man, look at that pile of dirt." ... "Boy, that pile of dirt is even bigger than it was yesterday." ... "You want to see if we can drive my truck up it?"... "I bet I could drive my truck up that." ..." I'm going to drive my truck up that pile of dirt one day." He can't stop. I've seen him try. We drive by, he glances over, waits a few seconds, looks back at the pile of dirt in the rearview, waits a few more seconds, makes a face like he's trying to not talk about the pile of dirt, then, two seconds later...an inane comment about the pile of dirt. The other day his truck was suspiciously muddy. His explanation sounded really lame. But, nah, he wouldn't really try it...would he?