weeds (not the 1960s version, although I guess I can't be sure)

We've lived here for about 2 1/2 months, and I've been whining about our yard since the first box crossed the threshold. We are lucky enough to have a whole 1/2 acre to ourselves, and the point of that was to have plenty of room for our toddler to run, play, etc without crashing into a neighbor's house. Unfortunately, if he ran and played with the wild abandon I had envisioned, he'd likely end up a bloody heap after tripping on the spare nails, wire and other debris the previous owner left for us. I simply cannot stand it any longer, so we're off to find a landscaper. Which is not that big of a deal, except I hate trying to find a professional in an area I'm not familiar with Our neighbors are pretty much your typical do-it-yourselfers and their yards are lovely. Our yard looks like someone died and the house hasn't sold yet. I'm sure people drive by thinking, "Those weeds are 5 feet tall! Is there even a house on that lot, or is that some sort of horticulture experiment by a college that recently dropped its horticulture program?"
My husband, while a perfectionist in so many, many areas, could not care less about the landscaping situation we have on our hands. I come home and run in the door, hoping no one I know finds out that this is my house and reports me to the city's blight department. It's finally nice weather (which is wonderful and this is in no way a gripe about that but), the earth is producing weeds at a rapid rate. Anyway, I'm getting off my keister and making a few executive decisions. Our yard will be fixed and look somewhat presentable. There, I said it. Since you read it, I'm committed.