We're total wussies these days. I look back at my grandfather's era and those guys were tough. If they got hurt it was because they were doing something manly like cutting wood and the axe caught their leg during their twelfth hour of chopping. They rubbed some dirt in it, spit and cut another cord. Not us. We complain and take medications for everything.

It was one of those days ... The second I walked through the front door from a long day at work, it was one piece of bad news after another.  I had no idea what was really waiting for me under my lawn...

Our house also seems to be utter chaos at all waking hours; someone is always in costume, half-finished kid projects strewn about, and we're by far the loudest house on the block. 

True to form, last night ... there was an incident.