Regular readers of this blog may remember my Lawn Mower
Nightmares. Every summer it seemed that
after one or two uses, my mower would simply die. And I never could crank the
stupid thing without pulling my shoulder out of joint. Two years in a row I bought new mowers. After
the second new one, when it spent more time in the repair shop than it did my
yard, finally, they refunded my money.
I’m sure they were as happy about it as I was. I decided to try a smaller, local hardware
store instead of one of the big-box stores, and had a great experience with
Hill’s Ace in Winder. That mower is
still working just fine – but not realizing I would again be in charge of my
own yardwork, I let Whitney and Dustin take it when they moved to their
house.
You must understand something about me. When it comes to cutting grass and getting
haircuts – I’m very impatient. When I’m
ready to do it, I’m ready right now. Don’t
want to wait. A couple of weeks ago, Dustin said he would cut
the grass if we could get his riding mower over here.
I decided I didn’t want to wait – so I went to Home Depot and got my own dang lawn mower. I’ve been doing a lot of shopping in Lowe’s
and Home Depot these days, and have gotten on a first-name basis with some of
the associates. At the HD on Epps
Bridge, there’s a delightful young man named Adam whom I am considering
adopting. He is very handy, and knows a
lot of things about a lot of things – mainly where most items are located in
the store. On this particular trip, I
was happy to see Adam, and after he assisted me with some fluorescent light
bulbs, we wandered over to the lawn-mower section. He showed me a mower that he had himself
purchased recently, and recommended I consider that one. It’s all pretty and red, and has big wheels
on the back that help with uneven ground. He sold me when he said that all you
have to do is take it out of the box, fold up the handle, tighten some bolts, put in the gas and oil
and it’s good to go. He swore to me that
it cranked on the first pull. I was all
in. After assisting me with a few other
items, and agreeing to be my personal shopping assistant for all eternity, he
loaded it into the car, and I drove home – ready to tackle my yard. To my WONDERFUL surprise, my neighbor Tammy
had cut the front yard for me, while she was out doing her own yard!! Gosh, I love my neighbors!!! The back yard was too high for this push
mower, and David came over later with his tractor-mower and took care of that
for me. That was a couple of weekends
ago. And, as we know, that pesky grass
just insists on growing all summer long. So, today was the
day! Time to cut the grass!!
My wake-up call came this morning at 8:30, when David
called to say The Biscuit Man had arrived. In all my early-morning glory, I
trekked up to the Huth patio for coffee and biscuits. It was a beautiful morning to sit outside and
enjoy some peaceful conversation.
After
that, I was psyched about cutting the grass.
Except I couldn’t find my shoes.
I think I left my yard-work shoes at Steve’s, and my slip-on Sketchers
are dangerous on uneven ground. I nearly
broke my foot a few weeks ago trying to clean up some clippings in the yard
while wearing them. This presented a dilemma.
I know I need to pick up a pair of cheap shoes for working outside. But – unlike the Wal Mart people whose
pictures we see and make fun of, I try not to go shopping (even at Wal Mart)
without looking like I just got out of bed.
Doing so at the Dollar G in Statham isn’t QUITE as bad – but that place
is usually hoppin’ on Saturday mornings, and one never knows who you might run
into. I thought I’d take a chance, and
go down and see if they had any kind of footwear that would get me through
today’s grass-cutting marathon. I had to go to town anyway to get gas for the lawn mower. I
didn’t want to get all gussied up just to go to Wal Mart, then come home and
get all dirty and smelly. At the Dollar
G, I tried on some “Youth” shoes that I considered. I thought I’d look rather spiffy in some Spiderman
shoes, and maybe Spidey would give me superpowers while I worked outside. But I worried with all that
walking, they might be a bit too snug.
Almost defeated, I happened to see a pair of $6.00 ladies cloth “tennis
shoes” with some shiny things bedazzled on the side. Tried these ones, and they felt okay.
So, instead of Spiderman, I decided I’d probably do better with the movie
star shoes.
Then it was off to the gas station. At the time I bought the mower, I also wanted a new gas can. Adam escorted me to the proper aisle and showed me a display of
lovely bright red gasoline containers. I was interested in a 2-gallon can, but the choices were either really expensive ones, or
really cheap ones. There was one style
in the mid price range that looked like it would make me happy, so that’s the
one I chose. Unfortunately, I had
dismissed Adam before making my selection. I’m sure he would have advised against this particular one. But, there's no one to blame. I chose it all on my own. It looked like a very nice can, that you could trust to keep the gasoline safely inside without leaking. Yes, it’s a very secure gas
can. But the nozzle is some kind of weird
contraption – so weird that I had to chase down a guy at the gas station to get
him to show me how the silly thing worked.
And when he couldn’t figure it out either, I didn’t feel quite so badly
about it. Finally I got the nozzle
thingy on securely and made my way home with my sparkly shoes and funky gas
can.
Armed with my bottle of motor oil, my container of gasoline, my
instruction manual, reading glasses, kitchen knife (to cut some bubble-wrap
stuff off the handle), and my sparkly shoes, I went out to the shed, ready for the maiden voyage of my mower. Thankfully the oil-hole thingy was marked prominently,
and the oil went in without problem. The
gas … well that was a challenge. The ‘normal’ position of the nozzle on my
newfangled gas can is in the closed position. To securely avoid accidental spills. (Can you hear the sarcasm?) In order to open up the nozzle for the gas to flow, you have to first squeeze this long protruding plastic thing built into the side of the nozzle, then push down on the long protruding plastic thing while squeezing. My hands are small, and due to surgery in the past on
both thumbs, my grip strength is weak.
So, it took both my hands to squeeze it and push it down. And the nozzle is straight. There’s no
accordion-like bendy part to let you wiggle it around and aim it. It’s about 6” long, and straight. So – as Larry Munson used to say – “get the
picture”. I hoisted the 16 lb (I think I remember from Bill Nye The Science Guy that a gallon of
water weighs 8 lb, so I guess two gallons of gasoline would weigh 16, lb… right
Tangela?) I hoisted the 16 lb can of gasoline up between my knees/thighs, lean my body forward precariously, tilt the thing
toward the gas tank opening, while squeezing and pressing with both hands, and the gasoline begins
pouring into the tank… and all over my hands.
Because the long protruding plastic thing is built into the side of the nozzle,
and there’s a “slit” in the nozzle to accommodate the long protruding plastic thing, when it is depressed, the
gasoline pours out of the slit in the nozzle. And did I say all over my hands?
This is not going well. I don’t like
smelly, icky things on my skin. Ewww.
After
washing up and putting on my garden gloves, the REAL moment of truth
arrived. I had Home Depot on speed dial –
just in case I needed to call Adam to make a house call if I couldn’t get this
baby to crank. My right shoulder is at
times temperamental, and the least awkward movement can send me into fits of
pain. I was a little nervous about the
pulling-the-rope thing. ADAM, you are my
hero!!! My beautiful little red mower
started on the FIRST PULL out of the box. Ever! No smooshing the "choke" balloon thingy, no wiggling spark plugs. I would NOT
kid you about this! Victory is SWEET!
With my iPhone set on iPod, my headphones on my ears, and
sunglasses (to protect my eyes from the sparkling shoes) perched on
my nose, I set across the yard to get the job done. Dang.
Have you seen that hill at the corner of my lot and Tammy’s? That section almost killed me. I remembered that it was tough, and made the
smart decision to tackle that first – before I got tired – and was very glad to
get that behind me.
I’ve always enjoyed cutting the grass. There’s that satisfaction of seeing and
smelling the freshly mowed lawn, and seeing the fruits of my labor. Yeah, I’m kinda weird like that. It’s a great physical workout, too. (Though I must admit - I will only use a
self-propelled mower – I did that Cathy-propelled thing many years ago, and I’m
not THAT much into a physical workout!)
Cutting grass is also a great time to vent my
frustrations. Over the years, I have had
imaginary conversations in which I would “get somebody told” - wherein I would fuss and gripe and complain about whatever bothered me.
Sometimes I would even talk out loud.
As long as the neighbors weren’t home, mind you. At the end of the chore, my lawn would be
beautiful, and I had the satisfaction of getting some things off my chest. And we know – in our imaginary confrontations
with other folks, we ALWAYS emerge the victor.
“Hmph. I guess I told HIM/HER a
thing or two!!!”
With the turmoil that has been my life lately, I figured
today would be no different, and I had a few things I wanted to *say* to a few
people. I was looking forward to
it. Normally I *write*. I write very long letters that I don’t send, I write
journals that no one ever sees, I write my thoughts into a private blog that no one reads. It helps to clear my mind,
and helps to process my thoughts and feelings.
Occasionally I will snail-mail or e-mail a letter, though I am at times so
verbose that the message probably gets lost in the words, and the effect is not
what I intended. Today I was ready for
bear. I figured I’d give my tired fingers a respite from all the *writing* I’ve
done lately, and just have imaginary conversations. In which, of course, I would be the
victorious one, with cleverly executed remarks that would deeply impact
the listener, and change the course of history and the future.
I also knew, though, that I must walk carefully, for
embedded somewhere within my DNA ladder is a gene labeled CLUMSY. I’m still limping on my left foot from the
aforementioned injury, and today I’m wearing cheap $6.00 cloth shoes. They were nice and sparkly, but provided no
support for my feet/ankles. I turned the
iPod up as loud as it would go, and after cranking on the first pull, I engaged
the propelling thing, and I was off. Between
watching my steps on the uneven grass, and listening to the music, I forgot all
about releasing my frustrations that might be aimed at any particular
person(s). Sadly, I don’t listen to music
that much any more, and found that I was really getting into it, and rather
enjoyed having those guys along to “help” me get the job done. Steven Tyler, Axl Rose, Roger Waters, Jimmy
Buffett and *gasp* The BackStreet Boys were very good company to me as I slaved in
the heat of the day. With the iPod on
shuffle, I never knew what would come up next, and was getting along just dandy
until Shania Twain started crooning through my headphones – and I must admit –
I’m glad there was no traffic on Sunset, or the passersby would have probably
called the men in white coats. It was
not pretty. I kinda lost it right there between the sidewalk and the oak tree. But… that moment passed. Led Zepplin and ZZ Top to the rescue, and all was well again. (Note to self –
either remove that song from the playlist altogether, or learn how to “skip” it
with one hand, while holding the lever on the mower that keeps it from shutting
down with the other hand.) About 10 minutes before I would have finished with the entire front/side
yard, behold – the heavens opened and buckets of rain poured from the sky. Shoot.
I really wanted to finish it all today.
Forecast says rain showers throughout the evening. You know what this means. This means that I must get dirty again
another day. I don’t like being smelly
and dirty. I wanted to get all this
smelly, dirty work done in one session.
Right now as I type this, there is dirt under my fingernails, and dirt
in the creases of my elbows. There's a muddy streak down the side of my cheek from rivulets of sweat pouring through the dirt that got blown onto my face. I think I
might gag. (A thunderstorm has delayed
my shower.) Another reason I wanted to get it all done in one day is because I’m
sure tomorrow and the next day I’ll be sore.
Yes. As shameful as it is, my
sedentary work and lifestyle doesn’t involve much physical
activity. And I will be sore. In a day or two when the yard dries out, I’ll
go outside one evening to cut the back yard… and it will hurt.
But for all my complaining about the rain, and not being
able to finish the job, there are other errands I must do today – so I’ll just
go wash all this dirt off of myself, and continue on with my chores.
Besides, we all know that the grass is always greener after the rain.
~CathyB
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