This is for my Yankee Aunt who thinks I am a Southern Belle. I am not a Southern Belle, but I was raised a lady. Ladies in my family where not allowed to do yard work. That was the men’s work and even when I begged and pleaded with my mother to let me mow one tiny section of our yard, the answer was a firm no. Instead, I was forced to wash and dry dishes, break beans, iron and clean the toilets. Southern Belles do not clean toilets.
Because I was denied the chance to mow while growing up, you can only imagine my excitement when I found out I would be totally responsible for nearly three acres of yard mowing for an entire summer. MDH, in April of 2004, began preparing for major back surgery. MDH is a forward thinking fellow and envisioned what the summer held for me, so with warm thoughts toward my well-being, he bought a brand new lawn mower. A lawn mower that a delicate lady could handle. One without gear changing and gadget switches. One with a cushioned seat and iced tea cup holder. One with an umbrella attachment so that his delicate fair skinned maiden would not get premature age spots and one with a little fan to keep my glistening, dewy skin cool. In other words, a lawn mower for a wuss.
Big C and I were given several “lessons” on the art of lawn mowing. Actually, Big C had already been mowing for several summers with a manly mower. His job that particular summer was trim work while I did the hard part. And let me just say that driving that rumbling loud beast was hard. I had a blister on my index finger all summer long from turning the steering wheel! Many people came from far and near to see that blister, to marvel at its site, to stare in awe at the blister’s grandeur. It was photographed. Measurements were taken and recorded in journals. For weeks, it was the hottest news in our town. But, as “they” say, all great things must come to and end and as the summer turned to fall in 2004, MDH recovered and reclaimed his new lawn mower. The blister healed, although there is a little scar and if I point my index finger just right, it hurts.
Because I was denied the chance to mow while growing up, you can only imagine my excitement when I found out I would be totally responsible for nearly three acres of yard mowing for an entire summer. MDH, in April of 2004, began preparing for major back surgery. MDH is a forward thinking fellow and envisioned what the summer held for me, so with warm thoughts toward my well-being, he bought a brand new lawn mower. A lawn mower that a delicate lady could handle. One without gear changing and gadget switches. One with a cushioned seat and iced tea cup holder. One with an umbrella attachment so that his delicate fair skinned maiden would not get premature age spots and one with a little fan to keep my glistening, dewy skin cool. In other words, a lawn mower for a wuss.
Big C and I were given several “lessons” on the art of lawn mowing. Actually, Big C had already been mowing for several summers with a manly mower. His job that particular summer was trim work while I did the hard part. And let me just say that driving that rumbling loud beast was hard. I had a blister on my index finger all summer long from turning the steering wheel! Many people came from far and near to see that blister, to marvel at its site, to stare in awe at the blister’s grandeur. It was photographed. Measurements were taken and recorded in journals. For weeks, it was the hottest news in our town. But, as “they” say, all great things must come to and end and as the summer turned to fall in 2004, MDH recovered and reclaimed his new lawn mower. The blister healed, although there is a little scar and if I point my index finger just right, it hurts.
Thanks for reading, a blistered Rosie.
1 comment:
Bless your heart...I bet a plastic surgeon could remove that scar for you...or maybe you see it as your "red badge of courage".
Love ya,
YYA
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