Monday, June 22, 2009

I Don't Think My Prince Is Coming...

"Eh, tear 'er up and buy ya a new one."

These are the first words my father said to my mother, thus beginning their 18 year love affair. He was strolling through her breezeway on the way to her guest house where his construction foreman was renting.

She was bent over her lawnmower, sweating and cursing. The damn thing wouldn't start. Funny thing about my mother...she's never had a lawnmower that would start right.

Of all of my mother's journeys that I fear to tread, it is the cursing of lawn equipment that nears the top of the list.

I've been lucky of sorts. Shortly after moving here, my feet quit working about the time my godson decided to start. He was the almost perfect lawn boy. Sure, sometimes he would forget the shop yard or to weed whack the driveway, but it mostly got done. But now, said boy is way too busy.

And so yesterday, I cut my own grass for the first time since early 2003. All by myself. Since I stopped watering all but 1/2 of the back yard because of our water shortage and gouged water prices, it really was no big deal. The worst part was emptying the dried grass from when the boy's friends showed up to do my yard a few weeks ago. It took the two friends twice as long to do 1/2 the job my godson did. And they didn't even empty the grass bag. In no time, I was covered in dried grass and dirt and my sinus' are still paying the price. But the actual cutting was easy peasy.

And then it was time to weed whack. I pumped; I pulled; I yanked; I cursed; I grabbed my aching back and wiped the sweat from my brow; Repeat again and again. Out of breath and sweating, it occurred to me I bought this piece of crap (McCulloch MT300 Easy Start {yeah, right!} trimmer) and handed it over to the boy. I had never used it myself. I dug through my stack of manuals. The thing came with all kinds of parts info but no actual operating manual. Argh!

I phoned the boy. He walked me through it. I did as he instructed and it started! I got half the back yard whacked when it quit. Out of cord. I restrung and spent the next 45 minutes of daylight trying to crank my "Easy Start."

Tonight, I was out there again, cursing and screaming at the damn thing. In my anger, I threw the monster across the yard! And if you notice below, I broke it... at least now there is a reason it won't start!

When I find myself yelling at lawn equipment, I often stop and wonder what on earth made my mother so attractive to my father as he strolled across her lawn that day?

4 comments:

ordinaryjanet said...

I just bought a weed whacker that is a giant pain in the ass because the plastic line keeps sticking and won't advance. I spend more time fiddling with the line than I do actually whacking.

I've called my lawn mower every cuss word I know.

Your mom just got lucky, I guess! Now, if Brad Pitt had strolled into your yard just as you threw the whacker...

Snowbrush said...

And THAT, my dear, is why I have an electric weed-whacker, which the doctor told me I can actually use again for the first time in months.

How many people know their parent's first words to one another--or at least their father's to their mothers?

CreekHiker said...

You know everyone here and on FB (where my blog magically reposts...?) has suggested the electric model. But I'm notorious for knotting my cord and then spending MORE time untangling it than actually working!

Janet, Brad Pitt wouldn't do it for me! Now, Hugh Jackman... we could talk!

Snow, that story is legend in my family. My mother laughed, ditched the lawnmower and went out to dinner!

Snowbrush said...

Just to let you know I'm thinking of you, and hoping for good news on the job front.