Oh how I love my home. Recently I worked on a project to patch some concrete sidewalks in the front yard by the road. The town sent me a letter saying I was a bad boy by not taking care of my sidewalks. I had to "repair" them by a certain deadline. They did not specify the exact nature of the repairs, except to say I could not allow any cracks to exist that were more than 1/2" wide, and I could not allow any part to be 1/2" taller than the next part. I guess this is to keep people who have trouble walking from getting injured or killed by the sidewalk's cracks. At first I said "I'll get right on it - yeah, really" but then I kept reading the letter and found something about getting fined if I did not comply. So naturally, I concluded I could patch the cracks rather than replace the whole section. Why pay someone else to do something you can do yourself? Especially today with the internet. I found all kinds of websites with info on how to patch concrete. The concept of what to do is fairly easy. The work needed to do it is not terribly physical unless you have to move conrete around in a wheel barrow. I did have aching muscles though.
Here are some "before" pictures. I thought it was very nice of the paint can operator to mark where the repairs were needed by the letter R. 
First I had to get a hammer & chisel, and chop out the areas in the cracks. For the largest cracks I also had to get the weed-wacker out and carve out the mud, grass and roots from between the cracks. Dirty work. I wore goggles. I felt good about doing dirty work that requires a little muscle.
Here's a section with the biggest cracks in it.
Nice.
Here are some shots of the patched concrete.
Well I have to admit I actually had a good time doing this project. Ever since, when I see some freshly poured concrete as I drive around town, I feel like I'm part of a brotherhood. Huah!
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