I get a kick out of yard work. I mean, really. Have you read my Who is this Woman page? Or seen my “Dig It” board on Pinterest?
Yeah. I’m a digging, weeding, perennial-planting, dirt-loving fool.
My groom counts himself as fortunate to have a lawn boy and bride all rolled into one unpaid package. He suggests that the lawn needs mowing? And I’m all, “Oooh, nooo! Puh-LEASE don’t throw me in that briar patch, Brer Groom!”
Then with, a giggle, off I traipse to my own little slice of Heaven.
So, this past Saturday, with the sun beating down and a gentle breeze rustling the poplars bordering our property, I was completely in my element as I made my way to the back yard to finish the mowing. Sassy thing that I am, I took off my tank top and finished the job in my swimsuit top and shorts. I felt alive. Strong. Dare I say…sexy.
*cue LMFAO’s latest hit*
Grass clippings are sexy. And we know it.
Yes. I felt sexy in my Athleta swimsuit top and board shorts as I pushed the mower around the yard in a precise pattern of zig-zags, dodging dog-do when I came across a spot that I had missed during my pre-mowing scoop session.
But all sexy things must come to an end, friends.
For me? It happened when I finished the mowing, put the Toro away in the garage, and returned to the back yard with my groom’s weed whacker in hand.
Do any of you female friends know how to use a weed whacker?
Well. Bully for you. Because the thing scares the living daylights out of me. But I wanted to finish the job, so I fiddled with the knobs on the handle until the machine roared to life.
And that? Was where the sexy evaporated. When I step out of myself for a moment and recall the ordeal from a third person perspective, my mind’s eye witnesses a scene that could best be compared to Seinfeld’s Cosmo Kramer guest starring in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. That piece of machinery took my swimsuit-clad self on a wild goose chase around the perimeter of my yard that still gives me the shakes when I think about it. I shimmied my way around, power tool in hand, lopping off random sections of overgrown grass, as well as occasional clumps of daisies and moss roses when the whacker careened out of control.
My teeth chattered.
My knees knocked together.
There were parts of me jiggling that no one should have to see jiggling on a woman my age.
So I put the wretched power tool away, cussing under my breath, and decided to pull a few weeds instead.
Because, unlike weed whacking, weeding by hand is sexy.
*restart LMFAO soundtrack*
Hush, garden girl. And hand me that trowel.
I weeded the Dickens out of my flower beds.
Two hours later, as I sat on my back patio, MGD 64 at my side, admiring my handiwork, I glanced down and noticed a smattering of teenytiny red bumps forming a semicircle just below my rib cage.
Mysterious gardening-induced allergic reactions are not sexy, friends.
And neither was the speed with which this reaction proceeded to spread across my entire torso, arms, and legs. Nor was how it crept up toward my face, threatening to squinch my eyeballs shut and leave me looking like something out of Mad Magazine – HGTV Edition.
Furthermore? A trip to the dermatologist and a prescription for rash-combatting oral steroids and oatmeal baths are not sexy either. Much like flesh-hiding cowboy boots and cardigan sweaters on a sweltering day in Chicagoland are unsexy.
So here I sit, in my boots and cardigan, at my kitchen table in front of my laptop, hopped up on oral steroids on a picture-perfect afternoon at the end of May.
Outside, the sun beams. Birds chirp. The yard beckons.
And I tell it to shut the flippin-flap up.
You ARE sexy. And I know it.
Thanks, sugar. xo
Even with the rash, you rock that outfit and the lawn care world……. Thanks for the good morning smiles!
You are making me blush, D. And that’s not just the rash blushing, if you know what I mean.
“It ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it…” Had to laugh at your entire story! To paraphrase Forrest Gump, “Sexy is as sexy does” so I would also vote that you are sexy. I remember the lusty rush of testosterone when seated atop our riding lawn mower as a teen. And the event of firing up the push-mower for those lawn-edge jobs I dubbed “Beauty and the Beast”. There’s something fabulously fulfilling about lawn work – hope your rash goes away soon, but at least it’s not contagious
Aaahhhh…my dear, sage Forrest. Love him. And you.
I’m a digging, weeding, gardening fool too! Shade gardens, veggie gardens, full-sun gardens – I do it all.
But I don’t do lawns. We pay the (often cute) lawn boys to do that. Cause they’re sexy and they know it. And I don’t mind it when they show it.
Girl? We’re gonna get along juuuuust fine, you and I. I’ll drop by soon.
Bwaaahaaahaaa!!! I can’t even get the stupid lawn mower started. But, I would definitely sit out on the deck and have a beer with you…even if you are covered in a rash
xo
Where are you again? Ohio? Just drop by next time you’re in the Lake Michigan area, and we’ll have that beer. To steroids and cold oatmeal baths. *clink*
Very funny!
Thank you for your “support,” Jim.
You’re too sexy for your garden. Clearly.
Clearly, I’m too *something* for my garden. I’ll go with your answer. xo
love this.
You love that I’m not sexy? The rash? No…wait. I’ll bet you love my mad skillz with the mower. Yeah…that’s the ticket.
You are hilarious! Did you find out what got ya?
Betsy – Here’s the kicker: It happens every. Single. Summer. There is something growing in my garden that doesn’t like me. I go through this ordeal annually, complete with a trip to the dermatologist for ‘roids, and she STILL can’t figure out what it is. If I knew? I’d be after it in a beekeeper’s suit with a gallon-sized spray bottle of Round-Up in a heartbeat.
I do not trust myself with outside power tool things.
I don’t.
The first time I cut the grass I made crop circles…which actually is kind of a talent…maybe.
Girl, mowers like you get paid a premium in the heartland…so I’ve heard. If the blogging thing doesn’t work out (and not that it wouldn’t), it’s comforting to know that you have something to fall back on. Me? My next career be as an exotic dancer specializing in power tool props. *cue LMFAO – again*
Nice. That’s the trouble with exposed skin, it doesn’t appreciate it greatly. If you enjoy gardening that much, do you want to visit mine?!
Give me a hazmat suit? And I’m all over it.
Sorry to hear about your rash! I have a non-gardening related one. Feeling quite UNSEXY myself! Stopping by from SITS.
Nice to “meet” you! And my condolences on your condition. I feel your pain…literally.
Bless your heart! A weeding warrior like yourself should not be sidelined, only admired. Hope you feel better soon. Ellen
Thank you. Much better now that I’m half-way through my 10 day course of ‘roids. Between that and half-calf coffee? I’m completing household tasks with ninja-like speed and prowess.
Found you on Write on Edge & love you already! It’s definitely a win for me to find a fellow Chicago blogger with a yard to mow! The potential for a rash is the ONLY reason I don’t volunteer to mow the lawn (oh, that and we don’t have one)! When can I bring my kids over to play in your yard?
Chicagoland? Really? The feeling’s mutual! I’m in the western ‘burbs…will drop by your (virtual) home soon. Then we can set up that (actual) playdate at my place.
Hey, sweet thing.
I can’t believe this is you.
I can’t.
Gimme awhile.
Anyway: this is my fear: contact dermatitis from working outside.
Scares me to def!!!!!!!!!!
Hello, lovely. Yep, it’s me. Just a little blog lift. But please tell me that when you read it with your eyes closed, you can still hear my voice in the words. I’m really glad to be back…missed you!
I wish you were my neighbour. I’d pay you to do my lawn plus I’d supply the Allegra. You are sexy. Next time let’s get a pic of you mowing the crap out of that lawn…oh yeah baby, mow it, mow it….oops, sorry, my lawn guy is old and toothless; the thought of your sexy self sidetracked me.
Look at you. With your Canadian neighbOURly spelling and all, with offers of cash tips and Allegra.
*sigh*
I do so wish we were neighbOURs. xx
There’s nothing like confident success in yardwork followed by a celebration beer followed by a RASH. Argghhhh. Remind me to tell you about my first week trying to run sometime. Yeah – my body was apparently not ready and let me know. Loudly.
Girl! You’re RUNNING? So what if the bod complained? You think mine *doesn’t?* Good on you! xo
I wish I had that kind of enthusiasm for yard work! Maybe I just need a nicer yard.
Or LMFAO on your Ipod. Just sayin’.
And that’s why I never do yard work! Though because of many torturous afternoons as a teenager I am well familiar with how weed wackers work!
Megan – Someone made you wield a whacker as a TEENAGER? That’s violating all sorts of child/slave labor laws right there. Poor you.
My first thought was about the pain of those little pies of broken grass slamming not your near naked body but you seemed to ignore the pain and weed wacked unbothered by it. My second thought was what the hell high-powered transformer weed wacker to you own? I can use ours and I have had neck surgery and not a lot of muscle strength. But the visual was hilarious. Maybe for your birthday you can ask for a “ladies’ weed wacker…
A ladies’ weed whacker. Huh. Sort of like getting a vacuum cleaner for Christmas, in my humble opinion. I think I’d rather just receive a lifetime supply of Prednisone…
Awww! Your all red and bumpy! Your yard looks nice, though, right? I’m getting inspired here. I’m at least inspired to look up “moss roses”, you fancy thing you.
The yard? Looks ah-MAZE-ing. It is sexy. And I SO know it.
That is too funny! I used our weed whip once and sliced my leg open. That hurt – and was my last attempt at using it.
You were one of the most-clicked links at last week’s Finding the Funny party (again!). We’re featuring you on Wednesday!
Get. OUT!
Again? *blush*
Thanks for featuring me, Anna! LOVE me some Finding the Funny! xo
This post was featured on my link up this week!
Thanks again for linking up and for always making me laugh!!!
Emily
http://www.weakandloved.com/2012/06/messy-mommy-jobs-5-and-link-up.html
You are too kind. Thanks, Emily! I really wanted to link up today with my most recent post…but I felt like it was truly a stretch to try to frame it as a “mess.” One toenail…that’s all I’ve got this week. Not messy enough. Darn.
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Kick the whacker to the curb and keep the sexy flowing by weeding by hand! Rock that Athelta top!
Thanks for the affirmation. That and a few more visits to my therapist should do the trick.