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Dear Readership,
As indicated by the above photograph, your humble hostess (and I daresay delicate flower) was reduced to mowing the lawn yesterday. The session was complete with perspiration, noxious fume inhalation and the accumulation of grass stains on sneakers.
(!)
This unspeakable indignation was due to my dearly beloved's ongoing recovery from his broken ankle and Lil' OB being otherwise engaged. (The readership should make no mistake--Lil' OB performed the season's inaugural mow.) To make an already horrific situation worse, the miserable Goat hobbled out of the house (using HIS CANE) as I struggled with the intractable Toro and starting snapping photos in order to duly record the proceedings. Can you imagine?
Naturally, this trauma has left me exhausted, but I've recovered enough to set up and take a bit of weak tea (or maybe a couple of beers).
Now then, all that said and in the interest of full disclosure, this event is not without precedent. Behold Mow Right Woman, Mow Right Man (and yes, the associated graphic is that of yours truly).
Mow right indeed.
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14 comments:
ain't no mojo like Erin's mowjo
but what came to my mind was blowjo---
I can't avoid every rhyme that pops into my head
Your indignation reminds me of my bitchiness of late, but you seem cheerful in spite of it. I love this post. I can't mow a lawn to save my life.
Next time, head on over to the Home Depot on Wilson Mills Road and hire one of those guys looking for odd jobs. They really do need the work, won't charge you much, and they'll be very appreciative. Cost you less than a new pair of sneakers.
You look happy. :-) You look like Laura Roslin from Battlestar Galactica (when she's healthy).
I'm not sure whether to look at the lawn or the cleavage.
Ba~da~bump~ump! LOL
Thank you...I'll be here all week!
Yeah, Dogs, you beat me to it...Sorry Erin, sorry Goat, but I'll be making music in dreamland tonight...
MR
Cleavage schmeavage.
You people should know that I suffered a SERIOUS INJURY during this ordeal. The Goat directed me to "get under the pine tree" (can you believe the miserable Svengali?) and as I was doing battle with the lower hanging boughs, one snapped back at me and scraped my knuckle.
No, I did not require hospitalization, but you'd think I could at least soak him for a dinner out.
I swear. If it were easy being me, everyone would do it.
Many Thanks! It won't be long before I will be grazing on the lawn once again.
I'm surprised no one has mentioned what appears to be another mower in the background of the pic. Impossible to know if it's in use or idle but I'm thinking maybe it was community yard workday. "Ah jeez Albert the neighbors are mowing their lawn. Get out there and do ours before we look like trash or somethin'"
RJ
I failed to see the other lawn mower because I got waylaid by Erin's bodacious cleavage.
I say lawn schmawn, not cleavage schmeavage!
Erin, you must have some kinda green thumb. I've never seen ANYthing grow under a pine tree.
MR
The other mower: 'twas the neighbor kid.
To be honest, RJ, we don't so much keep up with the Joneses around here as we just get out and mow as soon as the damn ground dries out enough.
Well, at least your Goat hobbled out of the house only to snap pics, Erin, rather than to provide you with specific mowing instructions.
I'm curious, do you prefer the Toro, or do you miss that Haybaler of your Dad's? I come upon an old Haybaler from time to time at estate sales. If you pine for one, let me know and I'll pick it up for you and get it to Cleveland somehow.
HA!
A rematch with that old miserable Jacobsen, eh? Not sure I'm up to it, John, but I appreciate the offer.
I want to get one of those old ones we had without a motor. They were fun-come to think of it. Dad had all us kids competing over who got to mow the eff-ing lawn . . . And he went inside and had a drink.
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