Ode To My Lawnmower

This is for my riding lawn mower of blue.

I hate you!

I ride you in the grass and then you die.

You make me want to cry!

This is for my riding lawn mower of blue.

I hate you!

I tinker with you so you'll run.

You turn my fingernails black, I wish I had a gun!

This is for my riding lawn mower of blue.

I hate you!

I try start you, you don't even click.

I think I'm going to be sick!

This is for my riding lawn mower of blue.

I hate you!

A divorce is coming between you and I.

I'm giving a green one a try!

Escapees

There is a trick to herding cows.  My observations are they do it differently in the South as opposed to the Midwest.

Doug's beach bum sister and her accountant husband own many acres in south Florida.  The natural thing to do with it is to purchase livestock.  Cows are cute and smart.  Why not buy three of those?

Makes sense to me.  Except I guess you have to check to make sure they have a tail and are not pregnant.  While baby cows are cute too, they are a bit skittish. 

My photo hound husband was sneaking up on the sleeping baby cow with camera in hand.  A tap-tap to the rump and baby was awake and darting across the field through the barb wire fence.  Pointed wire obviously does not slow down baby cows.

His sister knew how to get baby back on the right side of the fence.  Just call it.  "Here cow, cow, cow.  Here cow, cow, cow."  We waited while baby ambled further into the neighbor's field. 

She hollered at her son, "Bring the cow's ball.  We'll throw it and baby will chase it on this side of the fence."  Wow!  She has a dog-cow. 

Thirty-three throws later, her arm was sore and the cow was happily munching grass under the neighbor's tree.  "Just leave it," reasoned her husband.  "He'll come back through the barb wire tonight."

His sister and her family scuffed into the house.  That's when Doug, Nicole, Candace, and myself got to work.  I can not tell you how we got baby to the right side of the fence.  But I can assure you no cows were harmed in the process. 

Midwesterners are real cowboys.  I experienced an escaped cow round up on my way home the other evening. 

A truck in front of me was driving at a snails pace with it's emergency lights on.  I noticed another truck about a half mile ahead on the hill stopped with it's emergency lights on also.  Then I saw them.  Four escaped convict cows being herded by a madman (I mean angry!) on a four wheeler. 

The four wheeler was chasing those cows toward the pen a half mile away.  The cows stampeded  from one side of the road to the other.  The madman zigzagged behind them, losing traction in the fresh mud. 

The cows darted down the stream by the road.  I noticed a girl in grass up to her waist waving her arms and yelling at the cows. (No, she was not yelling "cow, cow.")  As the cows turned around she bobbed through the grass after them. 

Back on the road the four wheeler resumed it's quest to the pen.  Other people appeared out of the grass by the side of the road to cheer someone on.  The madman or the cows?  I wasn't sure.  But the cows stomped by them and the madman slung mud on them as he continued his weaving down the road. 

Twenty-two minutes later the cows were back in the pen.  I could now drive by the weary mud covered group.  The madman was letting a fence post hold him up.  The girl from the grass was removing her boots.  I think she should have had waders instead.  Her blue jeans were black and stiff with mud way past her knees.   

The cows were gazing down the road where they had come from.  They had escaped to the nearby hog confinement.  It must have been some party there that lasted until the cows came home. 

Drag Queen

When people find out I was a preschool teacher, I become the go-to babysitter for all kinds of things.

"Will you watch my house?" 

"Of course."  I guess chasing ten little imps around for three hours a day makes me trustworthy.  It is great fun to see other people's decorating taste.  I have only one question-Why a deer head in the dining room?  I don't want a head watching me devour the rest of his body.

Then there's the, "Can you watch my dog?"

This is a little more up my alley.  Dogs.  Kids.  They are basically the same.  Give orders.  Feed on a regular basis.  Clean up poop.  No problem.

I watched my cousin's dog for a weekend.  He ran off on walks.  Ran around the property without supervision.  Slept outside in his kennel.  He was like having a teenager.

My Uncle's dog stayed with me for two months.  (My 95 year old uncle, who lives alone, was recovering from a broken leg.  He is now fine and back out on the farm.)  She could make pitiful eyes like my preschoolers.  Her ears needed scratching every day.  We walked every day. (  Yes, even when it was 3 below zero.  I froze my nose off.  Don't know why it couldn't have been some of my butt.)  The dog demanded people food with those eyes.  Doug had to share his spaghetti.  He hasn't forgiven me yet. 

In San Diego I had an exceptional student, Julia.  We have known her family for about twenty years.  She was the apple of my eye.  (I once asked her if she knew how to blow her nose. As I was grabbing a tissue for her, she replied "Yea."  Snot was snorted in a three foot radius.) 

I understood why her father, J.R., asked me to babysit his new baby.  (Sorry, Julia, you are no longer your Daddy's baby.  But I will still claim you.)  I am responsible, quiet, and trustworthy.  He left me with his candy red '68 convertible Camaro.  It must be exercised every week.  Gotta blow all the junk out of the carburetor you know.  It can go from zero to seventy in 3.2 seconds.  This baby beats all the sports cars in the neighboring towns.

The Camaro will only be with me for two more years.  I should be able to claim the unofficial drag racing queen trophy by then.  Thanks J.R. for making me famous.

Hide and Seek

Mother nature has a sick sense of humor.  I'm not sure I appreciate it.

I awoke early on April 1st.  April Fools Day is my favorite day of the year.  It's the only day I can trick anyone and everyone and not get back lash from it.  I yanked open the dining room blinds and was promptly blinded.  Stark white snow covered every inch of the ground. My butt hit the chair as my mouth dropped open.  I know Mother Nature was watching and laughing hysterically.

Now I love winter and snow.  But this has been a long cold winter for this southern girl.  I took a few deep breaths and thought, "Mother Nature I can roll with this."  I pulled on my snow pants and parka and headed outside to snap some pictures. 

Signs of spring were appearing everywhere.  The plump robins had returned to search for worms.   Tulips were starting to push their green leaves through the frozen winter soil.  I could hunker down and survive a couple more days of winter.  After all I had an extended vacation planned  in sunny southern California.

The flannel sheets were striped off the bed to be replaced with cool silky summer sheets.  Snow pants and parkas were laundered and folded away in the trunk.  Light weight jackets and wind breakers were hung in the closet with care.  Tea bags were replaced with instant tea.  I dumped the stale ice that had been lounging in the ice maker since September.  By the time I got home from California the ice would be fresh for sun tea and warm weather would flood every crevice of my life.

Seventeen days later I returned home to warmer weather.  We hauled Doug's precious lawn mower in for the annual exam.  I scaled the ladder and spent a week pruning our six apple trees.  Doug began the laborious task of deweeding some of the flower and vegetable beds.  (He has to get in there before me to desnake it too!)

Then it happened.

May first, forty two days after the first official day of spring, it snowed!  It snowed five inches!  Being the neat and orderly people that we are, we had put the snow shovels in hibernation in the potting shed.  The snow kindly drifted on the potting shed door so we couldn't open it.  This was not a light, fluffy worthless snow.  It was wet and heavy and good for making snowmen snow.  But it was spring.  Not time for making snowmen.  

My tulips had bloomed and were snow covered.  The asparagus and rhubarb that were popping back to life had to have a blanket.  We bailed our mower out of the lawn mower doctor store, but we couldn't help all the other mowers sitting outside in the snow waiting for a home. 

"Alle alle achts und frei!"  Mother Nature please bring spring out of hiding!

Where's My Whiskey?

The whiskey bottle is missing.  But I don't think it really existed anyway.

I have an elderly aunt in a nursing home.  A very homey nursing home.  There is a dog and cat who can be found snoozing with a resident.  Birds flitter about in an aviary.   Residents are taken out on van rides around the countryside to watch the corn grow.  They play bingo several times a week.  Everyone wins.  The residents go back to their room with a prize; a banana, some crackers, a beanie baby.  The staff are all

kind and thoughtful.   But my aunt has one problem.  Someone has taken her whiskey bottle!

My aunt is a wonderful woman.  But her short term memory is...well,short.  She can tell you a story from eighty years ago in vivid detail.  But some days has no memory of who visited her yesterday. 

One visit after telling me about the pet raccoon she kept in the house seventy years ago, she preceded to complain that someone had stolen her whiskey bottle.  It was gone.  She couldn't find it anywhere.  She instructed me to go out to the grocery store.  No, maybe the grocery store didn't sell whiskey.  I should find a liquor store in a larger town.  Her town's population is only 779.  They do have a gnat of a grocery store, but liquor is not on their shelves.

I interrupted her ramblings.  "Auntie, I don't think you are allowed to have whiskey in here."

Her face grew solemn as she thought.  "We can hide it under my underpants.  No one has to know I have it."

I tried to reason with her.  "They will find it when they put your clean clothes away."

Then in walked the nurse.  This ninety-four year old lady moved faster than a run away truck.  She yanked open the bottom drawer of her night stand and pulled out a wrinkled brown bag.  Shoving the bag under the nurse's nose she complained, "Someone stole my bottle of whiskey.  This is the empty one!"

To my utter astonishment, an empty bottle of whiskey dropped out of the bag!  OMG!  Were they going to expel my aunt from the nursing home?

The nurse patiently picked up the bottle and said to my aunt, "Remember we had to take the full one and lock it up.  Let us know when you want it and we'll bring it down to you."

I managed to stutter, "You mean she really has a whiskey bottle here?"

"Oh yes," said the nurse.  "Many of our residents have alcohol.  By law we have to lock it up.  Lots of them will have drinks with their guests that visit."

The mystery of the missing whiskey bottle has been solved.  It did exist.  My only concern now was why my aunt had never offered a drink to me, her favorite niece?  And by the way, I want my children to know that when I am elderly I am going to live with each of them for five months at a time.  That way I can be at a different house for Christmas each year.  But when I am tired of moving around, I want to live in the nursing home with the missing whiskey bottle.

Don't Feed the Husband!

My mother had fallen and broken her hip. I needed to go to Texas to help. Doug had just come home from a two month leave of absence.  I would have to leave him to cook, clean, do laundry, and shop for himself for an undisclosed length of time.  There would be cats to feed and litter boxes to tidy.  The dog I am babysitting would have to be walked at least three times a day, even in toe numbing below zero weather.  (Yes, I have done this.)  And there would be no children living at home to help him.

Yes Virginia there is a Santa Claus!

Before I left I had a special election to work.  I related to the women I worked with my joy in having Doug rough it by himself.  When I have left before, our sweet children who went to school and worked jobs and did a mountain of homework, were tasked to do laundry, clean, feed the cats, and have dinner on the table when he arrived home from a sit down job.

Then in walked a voter, (Yes this is amazing because we had seven all day!)  my cousin Pat.  She is funny and caring and way too kind.  She had a container of warm homemade sugar cookies for Doug.  After all he was going to be all by himself out in the cold, lonely country.  My parting words to her were, "Do not feed the husband!"

This is how Doug's bachelor time went.  "It has been in the 40's since you left, honey.   It's bright and sunny with no snow in the forecast.  The dog and I sat outside having a beer and scratching ears."  I can only hope it was Doug having the beer and the dog getting his ears scratched.

"What about food?  What did you make?"  I sat on the edge of my chair anticipating the answer.  I had left the cupboards a little barren.  He didn't know the difference between 93% lean beef and 40% lean beef.  And he tends to blacken his food.  This was going to be good.

"Well, as it turns out, I didn't cook a thing."

Wait,..what?  He survived on cold cereal and peanut butter?  Then why do I cook a hot three course meal every night?

"I went to church one morning for the Lenten breakfast.  There were biscuits and gravy and eggs and cooked prunes.  Everyone knew you were gone, so they sent the leftovers home with me."

 I thought I liked those people.

"One night I went to the fundraiser for the antique tractor club.  There was thick vegetable soup and creamy potato soup, and hearty beef chili.  Someone made deli sandwiches with the bread slathered in butter.  (This is the Midwest.)  Dessert was three layer chocolate cake and gooey chocolate chip cookies."

"Another night I traveled to Earling for the Parish's all you can eat fish dinner.  We had fresh Alaskan pollack, a fist sized baked potato, crunchy coleslaw,  fresh from the oven buns, and decedent angel food cake with strawberries and just beaten whipped cream.  When those nice people there heard we never serve fish at our house, they sent me home with a sack full of leftover pollack."

"Then another night I went into Harlan for the spring fundraiser.  It was a buffet!"  His eyes bugged out at that word.  "We had fork tender chicken and roast beef and gravy, lump less mashed potatoes, corn and green beans from someone's garden, too many jello salads to count, and cakes up the wazoo."

And so the eating continued.  I zoned out.  I told people I knew not to feed the husband.  But I forgot to tell the strangers.  He talked on.

"This morning I went to Irwin for the benefit breakfast for the fire house.  There was so much food.  Fluffy eggs, pancakes swimming in syrup, biscuits and sausage gravy, and thick slabs of ham.  I met new people.  Oh, and by the way,"  He was puffed up now. "  I am now an Irwin volunteer fireman."

There is a Santa, but he doesn't play fair!

Wonder Mom

I anxiously awaited at the Omaha airport.  My daughters, Nicole and Candace, were arriving for Christmas from warm San Diego!  The "boys" were in Afghanistan and it would be just us girls.  We were going to have fun!

The snow had fallen a few days before.  Everything was white and beautiful.  The sidewalks and some streets were slippery with  ice.  The first thing I saw as my beautiful girls rounded the airport walk way was the six inch leopard skin heels Nicole had on.  Didn't she know she had come to the great white north? 

After some convincing that she needed to don normal shoes, we headed home.  The girls watched the outside temperature fall-21, 16, 12.  "Mom, we're freezing!"  Not too worry I had loaded wool blankets for their comfort as they acclimated to my frozen tundra.

The next day we pulled James, my utility vehicle,  out of the shed and drove the mile to my Uncle's house.  The girls huddled together convinced they had icicles hanging from their noses as we zipped along the gravel road.  I admit it was cold and blustery.  The drivers side was on the north and I realized I was blocking the wind from the girls.  Knowing they should have the full Iowa winter experience, I pulled off to the side of the road.  "Who wants to try driving?"  Candace hopped out and slid in the drivers seat.  I rounded the back and tucked myself into her vacant seat, as far away from the wind as possible.  Genius! 

Christmas day came and we were having company.  My 94 year old aunt was coming, as well as three cousins and our minister.  The girls and I had been cooking and tidying up when a text came to Nicole from Doug's mom.  She wanted Nicole to make a snow woman in memory of  Doug's dad.  I guess he was famous for his snow women.  I'd call  him a dirty old man, but it's not nice to speak ill of the dead.

Being the good granddaughter, Nicole put on six layers of clothing and headed outside to create a snow woman.  As I said before this was a worthless snow.  It would not ball up.  Nicole being the creative person that she is decided to made a horizontal snow woman.  It is hard to tell horizontally a snow woman from a snowman.  Nicole yelled at the door she needed her hot pink bra for the snow woman.  Just as she was attaching the bra to the beautiful lady, the minister drives up and parks beside her. 

This could only happen to me!

All in all we had a great visit.  The girls stayed warm enough.  I had baked and cooked their favorite foods.  We watched movies and played games.  I played outside with them.  Candace got up to her hips in snow, but we managed to pull her out.  Nicole had us climbing a mile to the top of a hill to try in vain to sled.  (worthless snow!)  I think I satisfied their tummies and their sense of adventure.  I think I must be Wonder Mom!