Previously I had blogged (on another page -but don’t worry I’ll post it here when I find it again) about why a fat girl shouldn’t mow. This was after an experience with push mowing.
Well, apparently you haven’t lived til you’ve mowed on a riding lawn mower. That’s right!
Just because you go home to support a cancer battle and severe family dysfunction doesn’t mean they don’t put your butt to work. Which I guess was good to keep my mind off of all the craziness.
Since my grandfather passed, our family takes turns mowing and caring for my granny’s yard. It was my mom’s turn and since my dad can’t help, I got recruited. I’m totally unprepared for this task and way more than cranky about life in general on this particular day.
My mom states I will be in charge of weedeating (I’m not even sure if that is one o
r two words). Well, that’s all fine and good, except….I’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE IN MY LIFE. And I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention to my life lately but I’m a bit of a klutz….do you really want to place that kind of equipment and task in my hands? Not if you have more than three brain cells you don’t.
To give you the Reader’s Digest verson, the whole weedeater thing lasted about 3.2 minutes. BAD IDEA, REALLY REALLY BAD IDEA……
So, I volunteer to mow. My mom has obviously lost confidence at this point that I will be able to handle that task. I assure her it doesn’t take rocket surgery (that is compliments of Kenny Barnes) to sit on a mower and ride around cutting grass. She chuckles and we head to the shed to get the mower.
My mom gives me “riding mower 101” to which I totally don’t listen to (as with most of the stuff my mother says). I once again, assure her, that “I got this”……and take off into the wild blue yonder…..otherwise known as my granny’s yard. However, I quickly realize I need sunglasses (which I can’t find mine), a hat (it was windy), and man, I really should get off my lazy butt and put music on my iphone so I can have my ipod music!!!
I pause briefly to gather the above items……….and quickly realize I’m going to be putting together a less than fashionable outfit for mowing. A “Dollar General” version if you will. I borrow my granny’s cataract glasses, my toothless uncle’s hat, and my granny’s fanny pack so that I can put my phone in it. Because heaven for bid I am more than 5 feet away from my phone during any point of this visit. (see pic)
Anywho, now that I’m all prepared, I mount the mower again (get your mind out of the gutter). For the next gazillion hours I mow….and mow….and mow….and run into the carport, and the wood shed, maybe a tree or two and God bless you if you are behind me when I hit reverse……because I have no clue how to work that so I just go until I run into something.
It was an experience I will never forget. Nothing like a nicely mowed yard. My mom finishes weedeating and can’t stand the site of my mowing ability anymore so she takes over and I join my granny on the front porch 🙂
I really want to think of myself as a strong, rugged woman who can do anything….but I”m definitely putting outdoor yard work over on the man list. I just have no desire to do it or be good at it 🙂 I will stick to improving my skills on ironing or something 🙂