I’ll take a mentally challenged duck over that old confused rooster any day of the week…

Standard

Mornin’ all.

Yesterday when I got home from work, the weather was perfect. It was about 70 degrees, sunny but not aggressively so as the high, fluffy clouds casually meandered across the sky. Birds were chirping, the kids at the daycare next door were laughing as they played outside, the very confused duck who’s been living in what is essentially a puddle in the back yard was yammering in response to the distant sound of a chainsaw.

As the afternoon rolled along and people started arriving home from work, the distinct sound of lawnmowers echoed through the valley.

Those who don’t live in a climate that gets a deep winter might not understand the psychological yuckiness (official term) of being surrounded by dead things for months on end. Everything is brown or gray. The naked trees, the half melted snow banks, the hills…even the evergreens lose their luster and take on a dark, brownish existence.

We had a long and particularly assholish winter this year. The past few weeks were spent searching the crusty piles of dead leaves for tips of green poking through. It wasn’t really until last week that spring began to arrive with gusto. While the trees are still pretty stark, with only a few species popping their buds enough to provide shade, the lawns are really beginning to change the cold, unwelcoming earthen blanket from drab to fab.

We survived the winter, and now we’re rewarded with a green lawn.

Better hurry up and cut that shit down!

We humans are very silly. I LONGED to look out my window and see verdant signs of life, and now that I have the view I craved, I’m thinking about what I need to do for spring time mower maintenance before I can hack it to smithereens.

If there is a Mother Nature, she’s probably very confused. “Hold on a sec. You people asked for grass. You begged me to end the long winter. BEGGED!! And now that I gave you everything you wanted, you’re cutting it down?”

Well, yes. I mean, look at it. It’s…long. And just…so…grassy. Besides, it’s full of dandelions.

“You don’t like the flowers? I grew them just for you. I think they add a little pop of color.”

Dandelions aren’t flowers. They’re weeds. Ew.

“And what the HELL are those big scissors for?”

You can’t expect me to leave the bushes as you grew them. Honestly, what would the neighbors think?

“I worked all winter long to come up with the perfect décor. You think this is easy? You think all I do is wave a magic wand and *poof* it’s spring? It takes time, planning, dedication…are you even listening?”

Hm? What? Sorry, didn’t hear you. I was looking up the cost of spark plugs for mowers. Think I could get away with just cleaning the old ones?

“You know what? You people deserve a long, cold winter!”

…soooo…is that a no on the cleaning?

Hey! Where are you going? Mother Nature? *door slam*

Sheesh. Some people are so touchy.

Thus concludes a quick Musing for Tuesday, May 8, 2018. I am off to not mow my lawn. I have other priorities today. I’ve got company coming in a week and a half and nowhere for them to sit. I’m going to get a shovel and a box of trash bags and start in on the dining room. Yep. I’m tackling the hoard. If you don’t hear from me, that means I lost. Tell my family I love them.

It *was* all quiet on the western front…

Standard

Mornin’ all.

Two days ago, it was 70 degrees. The peepers began their spring peeping. Buds popped open on the trees. A lone daffodil that I never planted decided to end its nomadic ways and sprout on my lawn. And the Grackle Mafia returned from terrorizing the south to take up patrol of the backyard once again. Heh heh. Piss off, blue jays!

Spring had most definitely sprung.

And then stupid El Nino rolls in with his loose morals, and liquors Mother Nature up until that crazy bitch lost all sense of decency. I’m sitting here right now looking at those beautiful, fresh, innocent new leaves covered in snow.

SNOW.

Apparently there ain’t no party like and El Nino party, either, because the El Nino party won’t stop. We’re supposed to have 40 mph winds today, and even MORE sky dandruff tonight.

Mother Nature is on a bona fide bender, folks.

I was supposed to be getting a transmission out of the car today. I don’t know that it can happen with the meteorological calamity that’s taking place before my eyes. The parts car is up on…

“Bethie. We had a deal about car talk.”

Oh, pooh. I listen to your gagging, gasping cries when you drink my coffee, right?

“What!? YOU are the one that makes…”

And I put up with your sarcastic sighs all the time.

“Because you intentionally tell puns and make no damn sense and…”

The LEAST you can do is listen to an anecdote about my sketchy car work. I promise I won’t go into technical details.

“…*sigh*…”

I will take that as a “fine.”

So I mentioned we got a parts car awhile back. We need the transmission out of it, and I can part out some of the other bits. I got a lot of the doodads I was interested in for cash and crafts, and then we jacked the car up completely off the ground to get to the transmission.

And the car promptly buckled.

No joke, either. We jacked up one side, it held. Good. We went to jack up the other side, and the jack shoved not only the floor, but the frame up inside the vehicle.

“Huh?”

Okay, next time you sit in your car, just look down. Notice how the floor is lower than the seat, as is the case in many seating arrangements. Now, imagine that’s *not* the case, that the floor is level with the top of where the seat should be, and the seat back itself is twisted at a funny angle and almost touches the roof. That’s what happened.

We found a couple places that buckled less and wedged stands under to hold it up. I mean, we need to get that transmission one way or another, right? It’s precariously perched on jack stands. Not fancy ones, because we’re still small town hicks and all, but definitely a step up from cinder blocks. We’re like, upper middle class hillbillies.

Anyway, I’m thinking it’s probably not a structure we want to be under when the winds pick up. There is more than a fair chance the car will topple like a domino, and I’d rather not be under it when it does. Call me crazy, but a trip to the ER does not sound like a pleasant way to spend a Sunday.

Maybe the weathermen were wrong. Maybe Mother Nature is going to calm the hell down and we’ll get a pleasant day after all.

“…*eyebrow lift of disbelief*…”

…yeah. *heavy sigh of defeat* You’re right. But I can dream.

Speaking of dreams…

Teen Prime took a big step towards his own. He’s a member of FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America), and he entered one of their competitions. His category was for computer programming, specifically gaming. He and his partner took third in state, and now are going on to nationals!

That’s all. Just wanted to brag about my kid. Hey, it’s my blog. I get to do that from time to time. It’s not like I’m one of those parents who gushes incessantly over every little thing their darlings do.

“Timmy learned to eat all his green beans! I ordered a Carvel ice cream cake!” “Johnny stopped shitting in the rags we pinned around his ass! We’re having a potty themed Party!” “Alfie’s Gran-gran came over today and he didn’t call her a bitch once! Time to rent out Playland and invite 200 of my, I mean, ALFIE’S closest friends, because after that struggle, I need validation!”

And I don’t do that not because I’m not proud of my kids. I totally am. I have the best kids, hands down. I talk about them mostly in generalities because the details are things about their lives, their stories, not mine. It’s not mine to talk about.

Also, this is the public forum of the internet. Who knows who’s reading this right now. Are you cool? I’d like to think you are. But I also know there’s a chance you’re not, and if I share too much, you could start creeping.

I don’t want you to do that.

Besides, my kids are, overall, fairly private people. The littlest pup would be mortified if he found out I was blogging about him all the time. My Aspie would probably insist on approving anything detailed I planned to post about him, and Teen 2.0 would probably take umbrage with about 99%. Teen Prime’s the only one who probably wouldn’t really care, and even he can be a mine field to read sometimes.

I try to keep things about the kids fairly vague.

…I try. I don’t always succeed. It’s so easy to unintentionally cross the line, you know?

I guess all I can do is recognize the potential for good or evil, and wield the knowledge carefully. I kind of like that. A modern day parenting ace up the sleeve. “You want to pull attitude with me, boyo? Because I can remember a certain incident involving a mask, some super hero stickers, and a dog that you might not want your classmates to know about.”

Oh, the power.

Thus concludes a short Musing for Sunday, April 3, 2016. The wind is really starting to kick up now. In fact, as I spy on my little hamlet from my perch by the window, it’s looking like a straight up blizzard. I’m starting to feel a bit nervous about what Mother Nature will by like when the hangover hits…