Saturday, May 10, 2008

things I've learned from my lawnmower

(*slightly edited*)

In the last few weeks, my quest for having a backyard with grass shorter than my dog has led me to a few observations. I thought I'd share a few.

1. Someone, somewhere, has decided it would be hilarious to sneak into my backyard every night (or day, while I'm at work... who can tell?) and douse every dandelion, blade of grass, clover leaf, blade of CRAB grass, and any various and sundry other growing thing with Miracle-Gro. How do I know this? Why ELSE would my yard be the only one in the entire neighborhood that is completely out of control? I think today was the first time my next-door neighbor has mown all spring. Really, there is no other explanation.

2. The arm muscles used to shovel snow are not the same ones used to push a P.O.C. lawnmower in circles in my overgrown back yard. I finally had those fully developed; I have now moved on to a totally new form of ache.

3. I really should at some point think about investing in a trimmer. Before my neighbors have more reason to hate me. (the fence line? isn't it supposed to be all overgrown like that? this way, when my cranky-pants dog tries to pee through the fence at your cute little puppies, the golden stream [erm, drip] won't actually hit them!)

4. Not really something I've learned, but more of an observation: Why didn't God just make all of our hand-skin the consistency of a big honky callous? I'm sure there was a good reason, but seriously, think of all the pain I could avoid with no blisters! And if all our skin was like that, we wouldn't know any different or care in the winter when it gets all dry and fork over lots of money for lotion at Bath & Body Works. But I guess I should just leave that industry intact and just go find some ointment.

5. Cheddar cheese grits + frozen blueberry waffles do NOT equal good mowing food. Next time, I think I would do better to cook me up some good biscuits & sausage gravy, some bacon and maybe some eggs. It's all about the protein, y'all.

6. Short observation: When your grass is long enough to flutter in the wind like the oft-sung amber waves of grain, you should have cut it three days ago. Also, the day you should cut it, it will rain.

7. I used to love mowing. I really did. I loved to go spend some time outside, smelling the wonderful freshly-mown grass smell, get out some inner aggression (?!), and at the end of the evening, feel like I'd accomplished something I could SEE. This, however, was before:

a) my back decided to mutiny against the rest of my body and show its intense protest any time its muscles are used for ANY reason whatsoever.
b) my allergies decided to kick in, proving to the rest of my head their absolute power by refusing to let me breathe properly anytime I am around the afore-mentioned grass and "wonderful" new grass smell.
c) it became my full responsibility to do it. ALL the time. just me. no matter how tired I feel or how I'd much rather be curled up reading a great new book. there's no one to beg to do it for me, for whatever excuse (no matter how valid).

Ultimately, this is one more way in which I have to grow up, quit whining, and do it whether I like it or not. Much like the snow shoveling I would have much rather ignored.

Adulthood, meet me. Me, meet the lawnmower.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

hope you're not squeamish....

(if so, you may want to stop reading)

I was going to write a normal new post (well, *normal* being completely relative...).

But then my hand decided that it would be fun to stick my finger in my work bag and cut the entire end of said finger wide open.

I hope witty coworker guy isn't freaked out by the blood splattered on the work laptop screen.

(I think I got it all cleaned off.....)

(this should be fun tomorrow, not being able to type and all)
(good thing I'm going to be in 58 hours of meetings. Okay, so 4. Close enough.)

(oh, and if you're wondering on what evil and dangerous device I cut my finger? Not sure. My best guess, based on the bag's contents, is a manila folder. WIDE OPEN. yep, that's me.)

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Bookin' It

I am now the proud owner of this book:

Like, it's signed and everything. To me.

TOTALLY worth the bitter stares from my boss for leaving work early and the missing-my-exit-and-having-to-pull-a-"u"ey(SP?!)-in-the-middle-of-a-random-side-street-in-downtown-Chicago. (Fret not - this was AFTER the reading. I wasn't late. I was actually early. But I still had to stand up for 2 hours.)

And Jen*, the super-cute dress totally made up for the Russian-mobster's-girlfriend hair & makeup.
You. Rock.

*Yes, I realize the chance that Jen would ever stumble upon my blog and read this are slim to nil. She. Still. Rocks.