Lawn Saga 23

The grass still grows and I still have to mow the weeds.

Yesterday I had a squadron wives meeting at the house, so I had to pretend to be put-together, which includes having some sort of control over the backyard. I knew I could artfully place the curtains so that I wouldn't have to mow the entire lawn, but I still had to mow the visible and Nathan was not asleep.

So I stuck him in laundry basket with some toys and sat him next to Henry on the patio.He did great. He looked up every so often to make sure I was still pushing around the noisy thing and chewed on stuff the rest of the time. He even threw a toy overboard.

The curtain trick, by the by, did great too. I'm going to have to mow the rest of the lawn sometime, but not today. Today I make amends to my son for sticking him in a laundry basket on the back patio like a redneck woman from lower Alabama.

Elegance Rather Than Luxury

To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common - this is my symphony.

William Henry Channing

God and Nacho Cheese

Nathan's reaction to low-calorie food

When I get to heaven, God's not going to have an awful lot to say about me... I'm not going to get one of the Patient or Generous or Kind prizes. Heck, I'm not even up for Most Improved (which always goes to the kid who didn't qualify for anything else). What He can say for me, however, is that I was grateful for my food.

I don't mean grateful in an "I once was starving and now I'm well-fed" way. It's more like, "I am truly giddy that you have provided for me with cheese and chocolate cake" way. It may be less moving, but BOY do I get excited about food. My pre-meal prayers tend to be heart-felt and full of enthusiasm.

With that understanding of my spiritual motivation behind us, you will no doubt understand how very thrilled... elated... I was when Taco Bell improved upon their Double Decker (which was almost perfect, already) by adding nacho cheese to the fatty fatty refried beans.
Praise. God. for Nacho Cheese.

It will be in heaven, with every single calorie and trans-fat that it represents. And maybe more. Because we all know that calories taste good. If a food item has 3 calories, it doesn't taste very good, but if it has 3000 (Bloomin' Onion, anyone?), it's delicious. Preservatives can ruin raw calorie flavor, but this really complicates the "more calories, more flavor" rule. That's why places like McDonalds and Chili's aren't very tasty, despite their high calories.

But Nacho Cheese cancels out preservatives, so Taco Bell is still okay.

All that to say, go to Taco Bell, eat that hydrogenated, trans-fatty, 89 cent-per-taco goodness and tell me it doesn't make you want to bow your sinner's head and PRAISE the LORD.

Good. Lord.

And I do mean, Good Lord.
The Good Lord has been working overtime since Nate was born. This chair is supposed to contain him with its seat belt, not enable him to bungee jump for dropped toys. I found him like this. I had left the room (but carefully buckled him in beforehand) to get my shoes and when I got back, he was upside-down and grunting, trying to pick up his toy.

Being the good mother I am, I took a couple pictures before righting him. I took these on my phone though, so pardon the graininess.

Once more, with both hands:

I might be in need of a nanny.

This Blog is Like a Box of Chocolates

... and I bet you wish you knew what you were gonna get

LAWN ADVENTURES PART DEUX

My other half (the lawn-mowing, trash-toting, oil-changing half) is still in Nevada, so I'm still in charge of the outdoor portions of home. Nevada is the middle of nowhere. More on that later.

Unfortunately grass continues to grow after you cut it once. San Diego has also been quite rainy. Which (thank you, First Grade) makes grass grow faster. I've been avoiding it all, but today Jon called and let me know that he would be leaving a week earlier and gone a week longer on the next work-up than previously planned.

Since 'The Navy' is unlisted in the phone book, I attacked the lawn.

Well I tried.

I located the weed wacker and successfully turned it on for... 20 seconds. I think it needs more line. I don't know why it stopped. Henry walked outside as I was heading towards the lawnmower, my Plan B. "I'm a lawn guru," I told him out loud.

strut. strut.

I turned it on and started to push towards the grass when a BIG lizard ran out from underneath. I screamed and ran away.

('guru' is a loose term.)

I mowed the front but only like three swipes of the back yard.

The overgrown tomato plant got ripped out of the garden and lavender and chives joined the rosemary and romaine lettuce in its place. We'll see about all that. This was successfully done with no breakage or screaming. Except for the lettuce leaves I accidentally broke off. And the plant I inadvertently ripped out with the tomato.

I should stick to housework.

Therin Lies the Problem

When the husband is deployed, even if only for a month-long training, life goes on.
The sugar snap peas grow

The child grows

The grass turns into a Jungle of Amazonian proportions so that indigenous dogs must make pathways through the foliage just to do their business. A Jungle where ladybugs sway on the tops of tall grasses, two feet or more above the ground. A Jungle that rivals the chaos of the tomato garden.


In such a case... where domesticated backyard grows afoul, the temporarily-single, mild-mannered housewife must cry with Lady Macbeth, "Un-sex me!", a cry for the gentle nature of woman to turn hard and masculine in order to complete the work at hand.

(Although, unlike M'lady, I am not going to murder anyone. Just mow the lawn.)

I quoted Mrs. Macbeth as I grunted and sweated, the lawnmower becoming an extension of my arms as I hacked at the overgrown tangle of green. Ladybugs flew away in confusion (Ladybugs, it seems, procrastinate and would not survive any sudden form disaster, as they need the shaking of the grassy stalk they're resting on in order to feel the need to retreat.), weeds screamed as they were mown down, Nate screamed as he sat in his chair, frightened by the roar of the lawnmower (our neighbor came over and rescued him after a bit) (Apparently, temporary men make terrible mothers).

Here is the lawnmower posing with the last of the Jungle, which looks tame compared with the before picture above.

After finally mastering the Jungle, I quickly threw Shakespeare away and turned straight back into a woman, desperate for a shower and some chocolate.

"Woman, King of the Jungle", sponsored by the Navy and coming soon to a deployment near you.

Best. Costume. Ever.

Three years from now, expect to see Nate in this... with brown hair, for Pete's sake.