Friday, June 29, 2012

I'd like to mow that lawn

Lawn maintenance... ugh. We live on an acre of mostly lawn which consists mainly of weeds, dirt, crabgrass, toads and a wee bit o' decent grass. That is not a lot of land if you are from the Midwest or have a second home in Aspen, but when you are the gardener, the landscaper, the cook, the maid and the nanny, one acre can feel overwhelming. Did I mention that I have to drag hoses to water? I also have a blister. Do you want to see it?     ..... No? Okay.

Before children (BC), I used to do ALL of the mowing and weeding here. We had an ancient push mower with a pull start that was about as easy as a scornful nun. I may or may not have a temper and consequently, may or may not have thrown that thing a time or two. Then I mysteriously started having back problems. Then I got knocked up. Then I was caring for a newborn WHILE having back problems. That is when Brock finally started doing most of the mowing and watering. That is also when we got a new push mower, new hoses and new sprinkler heads.

Last year, our friend gave us a riding "tractor" mower that was in pieces in her barn. It didn't run and her teenage son was going to repair it. Yet, instead of fixing the mower, he became frustrated and cut a bunch of the wiring. Then he proceeded to beat the crap out of it with a hammer. My friend donated the abused lawn tractor to us, and after working on it all last summer, Brock got that beast running. So what if it has no headlights, is half painted, has unidentified wires hanging by the seat and backfires every time you turn it off? It cuts our mowing time by a third and doesn't hurt my back! Yeehaw!

 I call him Frankenmower.

Doesn't it just scream femininity?


I do feel frustrated by the condition in which Brock leaves Frankenmower, and I never feel like I can just walk out to the barn, turn it on and mow while the kids are napping. Instead, I have to figure out which gas can to use, which wire is disconnected, why the hood is off and how to reattach it and so on and so forth. Naturally, all of this fills me with peace and joy.

I informed my darling husband of this common predicament last night and he said, "It's in the barn! Just turn it on! It's ready!" I narrowed my eyes at him in distrust.

So I mounted Frankenmower and by golly, it started! Then I pushed the gas pedal down and nothing happened. Then I stepped harder.... and still nothing. Then I yelled delicately, like I always do, "BRRRAAAAAWWWWWKKKK!"

Brock came to see what I required and scratched his head when I stomped on the gas and threw my hands up in the air in the always delicate universal gesture of WTF?. Then he instructed me to stand up and he lifted the seat and fiddled with something. When I sat down and pressed the gas, it magically moved forward. I glared at him so hard that I think I burned a hole in his shirt. Then he smiled sheepishly and said, "Darned kids." Darned kids my mayonnaise white ass. The man left it, once again, in a state of disarray. And you people wonder why I drink.


I proceeded to drive Frankenmower around the yard and mow the grass while Brock weeded one of the flower gardens. This image of the woman on the tractor and the man weeding the flower beds struck me as amusing, so in my mind, I imagined what one of my favorite people on the planet, an authentic good ole boy, would have to say about our picture. In honor of said good ole boy, I started muttering to myself, "Damned woman don't know her place!" And by golly if I didn't mow our entire lawn/weed patch with that phrase running through my sick mind and a satisfied smirk plastered on my face.

As soon as I start making "My Own Money", I am buying myself my very own lawn tractor. I am painting it pink and airbrushing a purple unicorn and rainbows on it and attaching a silver horn on the front. I will call it "DreamWeaver" and she will only run for those damned women that don't know their place. Women like me. Now, please excuse me while I clean my pistol.

Peace out mother-truckers,
Johi


15 comments:

  1. Dammit woman! Get your ass back in the kitchen, take those shoes and socks off, and make me a chicken pot pie!!

    Dreamweaver! Snort.

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    1. I wonder if I could get Brock to bring me a beer while he makes the chicken pot pie and I sit and read the paper.

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    2. Would you be sure to post pictures if you manage to get that accomplished? Haha! Thanks, once again, for the smiles! :)

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    3. Ha! Brock couldn't make a pot pie. :)

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  2. My fellow sisters and I have to remind our younger brother about our "place". On the farm, all of us girls worked like the farmer's son. Strange that we have to remind him, but he was awfully little--toddling around in diapers while we were throwing calves around, driving the tractor, building fence, etc. in extreme whether.

    Now, I am proud to say I work inside and come home to a messy house so I can crack open a beer!

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    1. Nice! I like the simple non farm things too, like naps and a tan line that doesn't resemble a t-shirt.

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  3. I refuse to figure out the lawnmower. Or changes tires No. Just say no.

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    1. I actually used to like all the lawn maintenance. I also used to enjoy cleaning the house. All that has changed since: growing older, having kids, and growing older. Now I think that I should have "People" that do those things for me so that I can sit and draw, write and sip iced tea.

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  4. I will change a tire. Our lawn is so small that I SHOULD really "help out" by mowing it...but I don't. I plant stuff but I don't cut stuff. Also, when you figure out the whole making your own money thing, let me know how it goes. I could use some of the same.

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    1. Planting is a lot of work! You deserve a rest! And I will share the secret, as soon as I unlock it!

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  5. Ah, young grasshopper. You have two small boys, in a few years you will have two boys big enough to mow the lawn for you. Save that hard earned money and put Brock in charge of making the boys mow that lawn. One can mow the other can weed. Your future is bright with the ideal of child labor. don't worry it's legal as they are your children.

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    1. Brock tried to have the boys help in the pumpkin patch. It did not go as planned. I probably laughed at him.
      I like your plan though. I know all about the child labor buz, since I was worked to the bone from a young age. TO THE BONE, I say!

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  6. I was recently told I was unfit to BBQ. You have inspired me to cook something with briquettes---maybe tofu patties and some sort of vegan kebob?
    Bahahahahaha!!!! His eyes would bulge so violently, his head would explode into a vast fountain of irritation.

    I am uniquely poised to bring out the very worst in him-it's a well-honed skill.

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  7. Ooh! I want to see your name airbrushed on the side with silver calligraphy! And...and...can you have it shoot out glitter instead of exhaust!?!? SQUEE!!!!! :)

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  8. Men never know their place..which is directly between shut the F#$k up and who the F#$k asked you..
    OOHH Burn! That was so mean! But it's to mean to men so it's ok.
    Anywho..You could also Mount a Gorgeous Lawn Gnome to the Front of Dreamweaver to help keep a watchful eye over the lawn as you mow!

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