Hear me roar!

So, this whole "owning your own home thing" is pretty great, although there are LOTS of little things that no one ever tells you about it, like all the extra money you'll need to spend on top of the mortgage, or all the time you'll spend fixing it up and making it "yours," or all the freakin' yard work that needs to be done. This leads me to my point...

I AM A HARDCORE SUBURBAN BEE-YATCH!

Why?

Here is why:

Last week (well, actually, more like 10 days ago), I mowed our lawn - front and back. Not such a big deal, you say? I beg to differ.

You see, we don't actually own a "real" lawn mower. We own a used, slightly rusted, reel mower that we found on Craig's list for $15. For those of you not in the know, a reel mower is one that does not have a motor. You provide all of its power. Good for the environment? You betcha! Good for producing quarter-sized, pus-filled blisters on Vicki's hands? You betcha again!

Something happened to me while I was mowing our lawn. I became a determined monster. That grass WOULD be cut, and it WOULD be uniform in length. I found myself wearing my purple, knee-length workout pants and an old t-shirt at 6:00 on a Friday night, with the sun glaring me in the eyes and sweat pouring down my back and in between my cleavage (I know - I don't really have cleavage. A girl can dream, can't she?), but I would not be stopped. I could feel the blisters forming, but I would not stop (not even to put on gloves. Yes, I am an idiot). My back was actually aching, and I was short of breath, but I would not stop. I wanted my lawn to be as pretty as my neighbor's, with all its perfectly even edges. As I struggled through the 3-inch high grass with my hopelessly ineffcient lawn mower, I briefly wondered what the neighbors would think of me if they were to gaze out their window and watch me in my stretchy pants and gardening clogs. Would they be thinking, "Why isn't her husband mowing the lawn?" or "That woman is an idiot. What makes her think THAT thing could actually cut her grass?" Or, would they be thinking, "Wow! That woman is amazing! She has what could only be described as the worst lawn mower on the planet, and, yet, she is still getting the job done! Wow - she is a hardcore suburbanite! I want my daughter to grow up and be just like her!"

I like to think that it's the third choice.

And, in case you were wondering, my blisters have basically healed by now...which is good news, since it's time to mow the lawn again.