Plastic In The Dirt...

"You can paint that house a rainbow of colors,

Rip out the floorboards, replace the shutters,

But that's my plastic in the dirt..."

~ John Mayer (1983)

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This month marks the ten year anniversary of my closing on this house.  A year prior I had been left with two boys, one and two years old, no job, $7 in the bank and a 10K bar tab that my (soon to be ex) husband was kind enough to run up on MY credit card.  He had left for his "better life", one that didn't include me and only the occasional non financial and more fun responsibilities of parenthood. And while this better life of his included freedom from the chains that tied him down, it also left him free to become homeless multiple times and spiral out of control in health and mind. I didn't have the luxury of having a hiatus from life, and did what I had to to ensure stability for the boys. I let go of a lot of pride, moved in with my parents and saved.  I worked when I could, I rarely had any me time, and stayed focused.  In less than a year, my divorce was finalized and I purchased a small house with a lot of potential.

Windows were replaced. Walls were painted.  Carpeting went in.  Slowly it started to feel like home. We didn't have much, having lost or sold off everything in the divorce, but I had what mattered, my sons. I spent my days ripping out and relaying insulation, cutting holes in walls, and rerunning electrical wires and outlets.  Each time I found a little memento of the family that lived here before.  Company photos, newspaper clippings, the stamps that are the background of this blog... all found in nooks and crannies of our home.

The yard was no exception.  Bob, the man who owned the house before me, who had been raised here by his grandmother, was FAMOUS for burying things in the yard.  We have found everything from asphalt, brick, flagstone, shovels, coins, oil cans, old bottles, glass, tonka trucks, rocket igniters, and weird pieces of plastic. Having removed hundreds of random pieces or rock and metal during the front yard renovation, Tony is NOT a fan of Bob's methods. I am more used to it, figuring it to be just a fact of life.  He had after all, lived here off and on for over 40 years.

Yesterday while I was at work, Tony started ripping up the flagstone patio that we have at the base of the back stairs.  The goal is to even it out, level the stone, and make it a bit wider than it is now.  Not a huge thing, just VERY labor intensive and hard on the back.  When I got home, he had it all ripped up and had dug down about 6 inches to start leveling it off.  Once I got home and revved myself up with some Advil, I went out to help him start dry laying the pieces.  As we went along, we pulled the medium sized rocks from the dirt before dry laying the stone so that they would be less wobbly while it was still a work in progress.

And so we went along.  Removing rocks, laying flagstone, pick up a rock, move the flagstone, pick up the ...wait...that's not a rock...

...it's a plastic turtle.  Encased in dirt, missing a googly eye, it was Oldest's turtle toy from when he was maybe 5.  It was HIS plastic in the dirt.

And with that, a new chapter of our home's history was unearthed.