I feel kind of chagrined that my husband did not mow the lawn before putting up our “Obama – Biden” sign – but I’m not irritated by this because, did you hear the part where I said he mows the lawn? Still, I’d like to look a little more “respectable” and less, oh, “welfare-recipient lazy Democrat”, and lawn care being a source of pride for many in Grays Harbor, I fear we fail in this regard.
I should confess here that I have never once mowed a single lawn (princess alert!) except one time, pregnant with our first child, when my husband taunted my expressed desire to cut our knee-high backyard with our old school push mower. For some reason (pregnancy hormones?) I took this as a slight and proceeded, in the sun, red-faced, to finish the job. It looked horrible of course, like my cat’s shabby ass when she’s been chewing on it during flea-season. Turns out those non-electric mowers are meant for the types who apparently always have short, trim yards and just walk about going snip-whisper when it’s 1/4″ above code (I picture some foppy overly-posh kind of a lifestyle when I think of this). In any case one of the reasons I haven’t mowed a lawn, besides being disinclined in this regard, is my fear of those whirling blades and rocks or whatever they might dislodge. Directly at my eyes.
Yesterday a woman stopped over for help with her sewing machine. On walking in she exclaimed, “What a beautiful home!” I was a little surprised, because I felt my home looked a little messy and disorganized (including children in underwear, not in school, playing on the floor) but I said, “Thank you.” My home has been complimented on its order and appeal but what most people don’t realize is their experience is not one of “nice things” but one of “less stuff”. Now, I’d been to this woman’s house and it was full of furniture, clutter, dogs and dogs’ detrietus – in other words, a typical American dwelling. Oh and I must say, a tremendous amount of McCain Palin signage in the yard… something I almost brought up because I have been loving political discourse lately. But I was first concerned with A. getting her machine fixed if I could, and B. getting my kids dressed and out on the bike.
Now that I think about it, in light of my ever-pressing desire to simplify, I guess one solution for the lawn is, possibly, pouring a ginormous slab of concrete.