Stock Tanks and Pizza Places

They really don't have much in common, stock tanks and pizza places. But today, as I was attempting to clear a tank in preparation for cattle to be moved into that pasture, I discovered a definite link between chopping ice out of a stock tank and a certain pizza haunt. Well, it's not really a pizza haunt for us now, but when the boys were younger, we seemed to spend several birthday parties there, either celebrating the special day of a friend or one of our own. So there I was, whacking away at the seemingly endless mass of iceberg on a finally 50-degree day! Hallelujah! After I finally hit 'liquid silver' (that would be water underneath that mass of iceberg), I began chipping away from the edges of the tire tank to get even a small hole started. Finally a diamond-shaped piece splintered off! Eureka! Success! That gave me a starting place. The dogs were doing all they could to stay awake and cheer me on (yeah, right) as the sun shone brightly on them. Well, I kept hacking away and the pieces got larger. Suddenly I felt like a lumberjack shortly before he yells "Timmmberrr!" Either that, or I felt like the captain of the Titanic when it met the iceberg--"Now what do we do?" Huge pieces were chunking off the mass. I was definitely making progress. Then it dawned on me that I might not be the he-woman I thought I was and would not be able to lift said pieces out of the tank. By now the dogs are snoring--they're no help. Okay, I think I'll take a few whacks at the mini icebergs floating in the small ocean. That's where the tie between the pizza place and stock tanks comes in. You know that pizza place where you can whack the groundhogs' heads when they pop out of the hole? You get to use that big ole' mallet and just whack away. It's a great place to vent your frustrations. That's what I did to these humongous ice pieces floating in the stock tank. I pretended they were those ground hogs (really, they more resembled prairie dogs) and I whacked away with the axe. Oh, baby, it felt good! Warm day, axe in hand, dogs snoring on the shoreline...wait, what paradise(?) island have I escaped to? Zooming back to reality, I realize I have about accomplished my mission of clearing this tank. I'm sure my muscles will thank me for it later tonight (not!). Anyway, I came back to the house and popped a pizza in the oven. Kind of fitting, huh?