"The air was so thick you could cut it with a knife"......
This particular line has been used generally to describe tension in particular scenarios, but I would like to use it to describe the testosterone that was in my backyard yesterday.
A couple of beefy, brawny, buffed blokes were out there cutting down the huge old pine trees that hang over our fence and the neighbours' fence, and they were something to behold let me tell ya!!!
My only complaint was that it wasn't warm enough for them to work without their shirts on (curse you Victor Harbor greyness!!!!)
Their actual work was awesome - our backyard is not all that big, and these trees were pretty huge - but they rigged up the branches with ropes and pulleys and when they fell, they landed in almost the exact same spot.
The kids have been home sick for the last few days, and so we were all glued to the back glass door and kitchen window to watch what was going on (and to have a perv - whoops!!).
Nev was particularly impressed with their work skills, especially the way they handled the massive chainsaws, and commented a couple of times about how these guys probably have half a cow for morning tea and the other half for lunch, and that their man cred was right up there with the guys from Battlefield Bad Company or the men from extreme axe men (????) etc.
"I on the other hand, will show you my man cred, by doing the dishes while I stand here at the sink, watching these blokes hack away at the trees," sniggered Nev.
Later that avo, we headed out to a 10th bithday party where Nev and I got into a cricket match with all the kiddos.
Nev used to play cricket in his younger, wilder and single days, and is quite good at the game, but playing with a group of children determines that your skills be put in check and play should be kept to the gentle, non-agressive type.
Nev bowled underarm, grunting and pretending to put in a lot of effort, staring down the batsman with the funniest looks on his face and handing out abuse like "your mother dresses you funny" (mostly to my kids) and generally making the kids laugh at him.
When it came to fielding, Nev of course had to try to not catch any of the balls that were hit in his general direction. There was to be no diving and sliding along the ground, picking up the ball in one hand, raising the ball above his head and screaming "howzat" and sending the batsman off the field in disgrace.
Nev had to fight his inner urges throughout the whole game.
There was a moment there when one of the older kids hit a "dolly" - an "easy catch" apparently in cricket lingo - and the gleam in Nev's eye was visible across the field where I stood yelling "no Nev, don't do it".
At the last moment, my slightly competitive husband, remembered where he was (obviously not at the WACA) and fumbled the ball in the (completely unintentional) prettiest ballet style movement I have ever seen - you know, one leg tucked up behind him, arms outstretched and a small pirouette thrown in for good measure.
When I picked myself up from laughing, I yelled "there goes your man cred completely babe!"
Speaking of slinking off the field in disgrace......