Sunday, September 11, 2005

9/11/05 MY MOWER, MY FRIEND

Up until yesterday morning, there were two things that never particularly excited me: 1) Mowing; and 2) Lawn and gardening equipment. Until yesterday.

Yesterday morning I got up early, as usual. I had a few cups of coffee, did some email and internet, and wondered when I should wake The Boy (a.k.a. son) to elicit his help with mowing the front pasture. Okay, it’s not really a pasture. It’s a modest, suburban front yard. As it turned out, I was going to be mowing solo that morning. The Warden (a.k.a. my lovely bride) made off with the kids. The Girl has a basketball thing she does on Saturdays, and The Boy tagged along at The Warden’s request.

I suited up in my mowing shorts, mowing shoes, and a mowing T-shirt. I took a cup of ice water, the cordless phone, my lighter and a pack of cigarettes (my last pack incidentally. More on that later) out into the garage. I lit up a smoke and contemplated the task ahead, enjoying the soon-to-be-broken silence of the neighborhood. After the smoke, I gassed up the mower and the weed eater/edger. The mower started easily and was much quieter than the old mower we’d retired only a few months before. I pushed the mower to the edge of my usual starting spot, engaged the drive-assist (or whatever clever freakin’ name they gave it), and started pushing. Wow! I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “Holy shit this is easy!” And it was. And so I mowed. And there was no trudging up the slopes, serving as the sole source of propulsion. And I now understood why The Boy had been mowing without complaint for the past couple of months. And when I was done, I was pleased. I love my new friend; my mower.

After a shower and a little recovery time (from the heat and the humidity, not the physical exertion), I headed off to the bank and to wash my car. Washing my car is worth note here only because I don’t often do it. I mean, I spray it off fairly regularly so it’s presentable, but I rarely spend any quality time with it to make it spotless. I did yesterday, and I was quite pleased with myself, and my shiny car.

I had two things left to do before heading home: I had to buy a box of nicotine patches and a pack of smokes to hold me over until Sunday (today) when I would start the patches. Ultimately, I opted not to buy the pack of cigarettes. I figured the three that were left in my current pack would suffice. They have so far. I’ve never been the type of person that goes into convulsions without a cig every hour, or after every meal, or with every cup of coffee. I can hold out if I want to; and I want to. So, in a couple of hours, and after my shower, I’ll put on that first patch and start into my first day of quitting...again. Hopefully this time will be the charm.

Okay, back to yesterday. After the car wash and the purchase of the patches, I came home for a short nap. After a 45-minute cat nap, I woke up and decided I’d smoke one of my three remaining cigarettes. Then a knock on the door. It was a friend (Allison) of The Girl’s and her mother (Kathy). I let them in. The Warden and Kathy had spoken to coordinate meeting at the house. Allison was going to stay the night after the two girls went to a school dance. The Warden arrived home with The Girl and The Boy about 15 minutes later. Kathy left about 45 minutes later. I had a headache at this point in the day, so I took some aspirin and plopped down on the bed to rest my brain....again.

At around 6:30pm, after considerable primping by The Girl and Allison, we left the house. Off to the big dance. We dumped the girls off at the dance promptly at 7:00pm and headed out to a restaurant for dinner. We were to meet our friend Rachel, her dad Sam, her 17-year-old daughter Christina, and Christina’s 19-year-old friend Brittney. Dinner was good, and the service was, as usual, excellent.

We split around 9:45pm to pick up the girls from the dance, which was to end at 10:00pm. Needless to say, the girls were pretty geeked up when they piled into the truck. It was funny to hear them yap about this person, that person, and how the night was in general. 13-year-old girls are a riot. We took them to Jack In The Box and let them place their own orders at the drive-thru. They giggled their way through the ordering and we headed home.

It’s a little after 8:00am right now. It’s been raining since I got up around 5:30am, with thunder in the distance (and getting closer). The plans today? Nothing. We might go to Rachel’s this morning for a light breakfast, but nothing else. Of course, that could change with a phone call.

Oh...and yes, it is raining on my shiny clean car.

Cj

4 comments:

R. said...

Hello Mr Cj!!!

Things have been a bit hectic for me lately just wanted to let you know I've been reading and wanted to with you a HAPPY B-DAY OLD MAN!!!!

Love from your old friend. I would e-mail you this but your address is on my computer in my outlook express and we won't go there with the shit on my computer, you know old shit with the MORON SQUAD.

Hope you had a fab day.

R. said...

that should be wish, but hey I'm a tard with a lisp.

Karlos said...

Thankth Nay! Tho what'th wrong with your computer? It may be thomething thimple.

It's hard to believe I'm 43 already. Seems like just the other day I was in high school with no foresight and little responsibility!

Cj

Bunny ~N~ Early said...

I would like to with you a very happy Birthday also!
Wow, it just occurred to me, you have a Warden and I have a Drill instructor. If we put them both on a plane to New Orleans, they would have that shit cleaned up pretty quick. I would venture to guess (living with us) that each of them have more experience in disaster management than the X FEMA director ever started to have. We would be hero's. We could smoke ciggs, drink Starbucks, and have lawn mower races, for the couple of days it would take the Warden and the Drill instructor to restore New Orleans to it's former glory.
The world would love us.

Luv Tard 4