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!

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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