Making mother nature your bitch, Part 1

As many of you may recall, I promised a while back to give you a full report on my relationship with my new push reel mower. Dad warned me that I would find such a mower to be “….uh….a good workout….let me know how THAT goes.” Luckily, my friend Google was right: modern push reel mowers really ARE pretty easy to push. It’s pretty much only a workout if I rake afterward, which I tend to do because I haven’t gotten the bag attachment yet. I’m not sure a bag attachment would be any good unless the grass is wet, cause it tends to just fly out to the sides a la Bugs Bunny.

I like him, though. Well, as much as I’m capable of liking an instrument of summer torture. I can get down in the ditches and funky spots (which are about 80% of the yard) without worrying about a rock flying up in my eye or slipping on the grass and chopping off one or both of my feet. The push reel also makes a rather amusing Edward Scissorhands noise.

My neighbors seem to be a tad bewildered by this newest of weird-ass behaviors. One teenager asked me, “is that cutting your grass?” “Well, it better be! Otherwise I’m out here pushing it around for nothing!”

There’s a spot in the backyard that’s under a tree and filled with clover (and rocks) instead of grass. Rather than continue to mow this, I will be establishing a cemetery in the back yard. Some day soon, I’m going to use my new jigsaw (purchased at a yard sale for a whopping 4 bucks) to cut out some headstone shapes and then have a PWOT party. Paint Your Own Tombstone, that is. There goes the neighborhood!

Sidebar:
In other news, dad’s most recent medical update email says that his brain cancer is doing well, but they’ve now also found cancer in his liver. Sister and I have been instructed to wait until after Christmas to book place tickets, since Christmas day is the last day that the cruise tickets will be refundable “if anything happens.”

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