Trash picka

As many of you know, I'm a great friend of the environment, but I'm an even greater friend to those in need. This past weekend, 'those in need' happened to be TGCOM(The Great Commonwealth of Massachusetts)'s own Department of Conservation and Resources. Or Recreation. Either way - the DCR. And thanks in part to a terrific gesture on the part of my company's CEO to volunteer his employees' time (thanks big guy!), I had the opportunity to help the good folks of the DCR, and moreso the good folks of TGCOM. We were going to help clean up Pleasure Bay. And I pretty much covered all the jokes pertaining to that name, so you needn't waste comedic effort.

L and I rolled up stylishly late, at around 9:15am. There was a throng gathered, and a nervous excitement was palpable. We were soon met by a DCR representative, who informed us we'd parked in the wrong lot and we should move.

Queue 30 people getting in their cars and driving about 200 yards away. Now we're in the correct spot. Phew - we almost wasted a bunch of time!

Next, our 'equipment' is handed out. I elect to take a long stick with a tetanus-inducing spike on the end of it. L grabs some trash bags. I commence trying to stab her foot. Subtle body language indicates she isn't enjoying the game. These are the signals you learn to interpret when you're with someone for a long time. In unrelated news, kicks to the groin are unacceptable in all but life or death situations.

We're given minimal instruction and sent out to improve the park. For L and me, this task consists primarily of stabbing (or picking up with gloved hands) cigarette butts and tiny pieces of trash. I'm pretty sure they sent us to the cleanest park in the Metro area. Maybe it's to give us the false idea that this sort of activity is fun, rewarding and easy. Well, I'm not fooled.

Not to say we didn't improve the area - I mean check out some of our treasures:
Score one for the good guys. That's an unused needle, for those of you counting at home. Needless to say the rest of the day was pretty great.

I should probably clue everyone in to what L has been doing for work since we moved to TGCOM:

Don't smile - you're here to pay society's price for what you did.

Probably going to have to go ahead and put the effort in and open that image to get it. My apologies.

Gingivitis doesn't take days off.

Enthusiasm doesn't always translate into aptitude, even though it should. Leave that alone.

So after all that work, it was already 11:15am. Where does the time go? At this point, we returned all our prison shiv/trash pickers and were treated to lunch at a local takeout place. Delicious tax write off.

Immediately following these activities, I got us hopelessly lost in South Boston, turning a 40 minute drive into a 75 minute drive. And that's with a map. It's really not a weekend unless I get to drive through neighborhoods I'm pretty sure I saw on The Wire.