The Worst Outdoor Chore

When I was growing up I never had to cut grass b/c I'm a girl and my parents are old-fashioned. My father cut the grass with his tractor and it took roughly 10 minutes. After we got rid of the tractor, he got a couple of push mowers and for some reason he and my mother had a little competition going- each tried to cut more grass than the other. The yard looked great.

But after a few summers both parents got tired of grass cutting so Dad sprayed the entire yard with herbicide to kill all the grass. I thought this was incredibly ugly and somewhat lazy on his part. I was in Junior High at the time and I was acutely embarrassed by the dead, ugly ground. I think originally Dad wanted a swept yard. His family used to sweep yards for extra money when we was a child and apparently he thought it was fun. What he failed to realize is a swept yard doesn't last very long; it requires near constant attention. Furthermore, grass serves the important function of keeping dirt in one place. It also keeps the house clean. With bare dirt turns to mud with each rain and splatters an unsightly mess on the house.

I didn't have to cut grass until I moved into the trailer. My father gifted me with a lawn mower. It was free, so that should tell you how good it was. I remember him pushing it across the yard and telling me that someone moved out and left a "perfectly good lawn mower" I argued with him, stating no, people do NOT leave perfectly good lawn mowers. He maintained that it needed 'a little work' but it would be fine.

It needed a little work every single time I cut grass.

The carburetor always needed to be cleaned. Always. Even if it was cleaned the day before. It guzzled gas and always needed more. If I cut grass without stopping I could cut a long time, but if I quit for say, 30 minutes, I had to add gas before the mower would start again even if I had half a tank.

The other problem with the lawn mower was I couldn't start it. The mower had a pull string starter (I'm sure there's a proper name for that, maybe fly wheel starter, but I forget the name) I would pull hard enough to yank the mower off the ground and it still wouldn't start. Then I would call Kevin, Dad, or Drunk Neighbor and one of the 3 would march over with his manly chest puffed out and in a somewhat condescending tone inform me that I just wasn't doing it right. With a bicep twice the size of mine, Kevin, Dad, or Drunk Neighbor would gently pull the string and mower would roar to life. Then one of the 3 would stand in the driveway and shout advice until I screamed at them to go somewhere and die.

As if the mower wasn't trouble enough, my yard slanted in two directions, so no matter where I started cutting at least half the time I was pushing the mower uphill. Forget Crunchless Abs. Go cut grass for a full body work-out. You need all those core muscles to push while marching all over the yard and the fat on your arms giggles away from the constant hard vibration of a gas guzzling beast. And did I mention HOT! The sweat runs in rivers. Surely this tortures burns a few thousand calories every ten seconds.

So thoroughly pissed off with everything, I'd march back and forth, back and forth, bravely battling uphill, panting for air, sweat dripping...ick. I need a shower just thinking about it. Finally I'd be done. I'd let go of that hated mower and stand back and...oh, I only cut the front yard. All this took me a few hours and I wasn't even half done. I'd stand there in the heat with the bugs circling annoyingly and see the long waving grass of the back yard, the side yards, got to move the truck to cut the driveway...

Feeling depressed, I'd trudge toward the house. At this point I'd notice my heart was pounding at an alarming rate. Heart disease runs in my family so of course I thought I was having a heart attack. I'd tried to reassure myself that I was just weak and out of shape. I'd chant my mantra It's not my time, it's not my time, it's not...OMG I'm to DIE right here in the yard!

Finally I'd make it in the house where I'd collapse over the air conditioning vent. I'd lay there until my heart decided it wasn't going to explode after all. Then I'd peel off my sweaty, stinking, grass clipping covered clothes and crawl into the shower where I'd lay in a miserable heap until all the hot water ran out.

Of course, after a shower I wasn't about to cut grass again. So I'd put the lawn mower up and promise myself I'd finish the yard the next day.

Then it would rain.

It would rain until I went back to work. By the time I had another day off the front yard looked like it did before I cut it. The rest looked perfectly suited for lions to hunt elephants.

Sometimes Kevin would cut grass for me. I'd bring him sweat tea and cold wash rags. Of course, I had to wait for a sunny day when he was off work, so most of the time I could still hear the distant growl of lions.

One day a biker showed up on the porch and announced that he was my neighbor and he would cut the yard and weed eat for $35. Sold! His name was Tim and he rode his riding lawn mower over with the weed eater perched in his lap. I left glasses of sweat tea on the porch. Sometimes I would leave the money under the door mat and when I came home the grass would be cut. On our days off Kevin and I sat in the swing and admired the short, lion free grass.

Life was good until the trailer park was sold. The new owner was under the mistaken impression that I lived on a golf course so he wanted the grass cut every two weeks or less. That comes to $70 a month, which I couldn't afford. Suddenly Dad's idea about killing the grass made a lot more sense. I started looking for ways to avoid grass cutting. I discovered that the American lawn is an idea the British brought over and our climate really isn't suited for it because we don't get enough rain. Plus, the Brits wisely mix in clover. We plant one kind of grass, creating a monoculture. Monocultures don't thrive because eventually all the plants suck all the nutrients out of the soil. Clover provides nitrogen which naturally fertilizes the grass. We dumb Americans prefer to pour chemicals all over our grass so we slowly poison ourselves as the toxic mess makes its way to the ground water. I ripped out large section of grass for planted flower beds.

Now I'm in the new house and it's too far for Tim to ride his lawn mower. The neighbor's kid was supposed to cut grass, but he wants $50. Did I mention I have a smaller yard now? My landlord gifted me with a lawn mower. It's pull starter push mower and (sigh) it was free. Found it at the dump. Has a hole in the gas tank.

I didn't even try to start it. Kevin's off this weekend. Maybe it will stop raining soon.

Saturday Post

First, if you'll look to your right, you'll notice I changed Skyclad Crafting to its new name, Forest Grove. I must say I like Forest Grove better, it's more 'witchy.'

There may be a ghost in the house. My bedroom door opens by itself. I've lived in the house a month now and all of a sudden one night about a week ago the door opened. I had just gotten up to go to the bathroom so I thought I didn't close it back properly. I got up, shut it, and lay back down. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep the door opened. I sat up in bed and watched the door for a long time. Nothing. I couldn't find any reason for the door to open. It was closed tightly and no windows were opened. I locked the door and cast a circle around myself. Nothing happened for the rest of the night.

It wasn't creepy per se, it's just an awful feeling to be a single woman living alone with doors opening by themselves. So for the next few nights I didn't close the door. Then Kevin came over and while I was telling him about it a window slammed shut. Then we went to bed and all of a sudden the door just opened. He investigated and couldn't find any cause or reason. Kevin agrees with me in that it sounds like someone turns the knob, not that the door just pops opened.

I told my landlord who laughed at me. He said the door had been kicked in. I asked why hadn't it ever done it before and he couldn't answer that. I asked why it opened when the windows were closed and he couldn't answer that either.

So today I will be sitting down and having a chat with any spirits that may be in the house. (Saturday is a good day to banish things) Then I will be smudging. I don't mind spirits in residence, just leave my bedroom door shut, please.

A Little More About Keeping House

I have decided that the absolute worst housekeeping chore is filing away stacks of paper.

Here's the conversation I had with myself while cleaning off my desk:

Ooh, quilting patterns! I forgot all about these. Hhmmm, when did I cut these out? Paper-piecing, very nice. I'll put these over here.

Okay, more quilting stuff. Hey, I drew this one, it's a FreeDragon original. This is okay. I think. Maybe it sucks. I really can't draw.

Still more quilting stuff. I should really get around to making some of these. Why do I start things and never finish?

Tax papers. Whoa, I really don't make much money. At my age shouldn't I be more established in my career? Wait, I don't have a career, I have a job. And I've been with the same company on and off for ten years. I have a sucky career.

Let's see, this looks like Dad's handwriting. Oh yeah, he asked me to look this up on the Internet. Three years ago.

And more quilting stuff.

Here's directions to a house in GA. Better save this. I'll put it...I'm running out of room. I know! I'll put it in my computer's address book.

Wait. I never hooked up the computer after the move. Better crawl under the desk.

God it's dusty under here.

Okay. Got it. (some 20 minutes later after untangling all the cables) Now. I don't have her address. How did I get directions to a place I can't google?

Birthday cards. Did I send one on T's birthday? I did, didn't I? Maybe that's why she hasn't called in a while.

Tax stuff from three years ago and when I really didn't make anything. Sigh.

Okay, what's this? Instructions for how to build rustic furniture. Kevin can do this. If he has time. Never mind, it took him a year to replace the chair arms.

Cardboard. Why am I saving this? Guess I'll throw it out. No, recycle. I guess I could use it in the garden as mulch. I'll put it...somewhere.

Markers! Never opened! Cool! Oh, they're dried up. Toss.

This is a box of...old bills. Why am I saving this?

And here's a box of paper dollies. Why am I saving this?

Here's a box of stick on letters and numbers. There's no complete set left and I don't think I could make anything with any of them unless I combine sets. Too bad they're six different sizes in four different colors.

Pictures. Here's last Christmas, here's Panama City, and here's somebody's thumb.

I'm exhausted.

(Never did get the desk cleaned off; just ended up with smaller piles.)

http://forestgrove.wordpress.com/

First go check out her boxes. They look really cool.

Now for my actual post-

I'm in a witchy kinda mood (probably due to Beltane) So I've been doing stuff. What kind of stuff? Well, you might be thinking spells, charms, and hexes. You'd be wrong. I've been cleaning house.

I know you're confused. I know you're thinking that is the least magickal thing on earth. But there's a Kitchen Witch logic to it.

My home is my power base. All my spells are performed at home and most are geared toward protecting the home. So it just stands to reason that the more magick in the house itself the more powerful and successful my spells will be.

I've been rereading my house keeping books. My favorites are Organic Housekeeping which is about using earth friendly cleaning solutions and Sink Reflections which is about not letting housework overwhelm you in the first place. I like to reread these books once a year b/c they are so jammed packed with good ideas I never can remember all of them. From the Organic book I was reminded to vacuum mattress and then clean it by dabbing with vinegar. This removes odors and dust mites. Now if I flip a mattress on a waning Moon it stays flatter longer. Try it.

After cleaning the mattress I re-empowered my dreamcatcher and put some lavender under my pillow for restful sleep. See where the magick comes in? I've been doing that sort of thing all over the house. I spun some cords and used them to tie up the cords on my blinds (I hate all that string dangling everywhere, it encourages my dogs to chew) as I tied I empowered the cord for protection against home intruders. It doesn't look like a spell. It looks like decorative cord serving a useful purpose. But I know what it's for.

In more mundane new yesterday one of the maintenance men was telling what a pathetic liar Foo is (now more people see him as I do)

Going back a little bit farther I did finish my sewing job and I did get paid and I may have another one in the works.

Last Saturday I went to CityFest and got a god-awful sunburn. I am part Irish. I am also part Native American and apparently those genes skipped over me entirely. Before I got dressed that day I stood naked in front of the mirror and rubbed a high SPF sunblock on every inch of skin I could see. But do you know what I couldn't see? Hhhmmmm? My BACK. It's peeling now and I look like a snake. It still itches.