Thursday, June 16, 2011

You can't make Mother Nature your bitch

As is often the case, it started with a challenge; Mother Nature and my Lawn versus me in the World Championship of Yard Care. I could practically hear the taunting in my head as I checked out the weekend forecast. In the Midwest we live by the seat of our pants when it comes to any sort of outdoor activity. If you don't like the weather just wait a few minutes and it will change. FACT.

The weather man can promise you 7 days of sunshine, but I guarantee that if you plan an outdoor activity during that time-frame, it will get rained on, snowed on, hailed on, blown away by a tornado, or the mercury will rise so high that you have to put all the oldsters and babies inside so they don't expire. There is nothing worse than spoiled old people on the front lawn... the smell alone will send you running.

I know what some of you are thinking, "Oh, I planned an outdoor wedding, and it turned out beautiful just like the forecast said it would." You seem to forget that every time something good happens to you, someone else gets screwed. Remember that next time you are happy about ANYTHING. Might not want to brag too loud on that one, huh? Your beautiful day of sunshine with a light breeze and not-too-hot temperatures stole a day of work from a storm chaser who sells his storm footage to television stations to feed his family.

Anyway, what was I getting at? Let's backtrack here: You suck, old people, bad weather, lawn... Got it!

Like a piece of straw in a tornado can be driven into a piece of wood like a nail, anything that flies out from under a lawn mower can be driven into your skin. Judging by the two dark blue and green spots on my shins, and the scratches in the center of those bruises... I believe I may have accidentally hit a mythical stone kitten. Invisible to the naked eye, hard as stone, with the ability to tear at your flesh, they are fierce creatures of destruction. OR it might have been rocks. Either way, Mother Nature did not like being dominated.

Two ice packs and a little Neosporin later, I'm well on my way to recovery. And this was supposed to be the week when my legs stopped looking like I'd been playing rugby with the IRFU. Fail.

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