When I bought my house I had no idea how grass worked.
Yes, that’s stupid.
Yes, I’m the daughter of a man with a career which is based entirely on the notion that things grow and people want them to.
But I grew up in the Rogue Valley. It’s dry in them thar hills. If you don’t want something to grow down there, you know what? You don’t water it. Unless it’s star thistle, and fuck you, star thistle.
If you don’t want something to grow in the Willamette (Will-AH-mit, please) Valley, you have to enact a scorched earth policy that makes Generals Grant and Lee look like big softies. You have to pull it up, spray the dirt, salt the spray, cover it with a tarp, cover that with more plastic, jump up and down on it, and then plant something else (maybe kudzu or English ivy) on top. I think we all know how well that works out.
Enter me. I didn’t want a lawn. My house came with a lawn. My solution was “don’t water it.”
The Willamette Valley grew wild prairie three feet tall in the 100-foot-wide stretch of “property” around my house just to mock me.
When I borrowed a weed whacker to give the house a bikini trim, my neighbors came out to watch. Apparently they hadn’t been sure anyone even lived in the house. So that was my debut to the neighborhood, sweaty and covered in grass seed.
I tried. Oh, I tried. Four weed whackers, all the sprays, the poisons, the landscape cloth… nothing worked. The prairie murdered two lawnmowers. I considered buying an actual scythe. I tried an electric mower, which added “don’t cross the orange line or you will die” fear to my attempts at responsible homeownership.
And then he came into my life.
My friends were buying a new lawnmower, did I want their old one? “It’s a little wonky, but it works just fine” they said, as they abandoned him at my house like a craigslisted pet.
A little wonky doesn’t begin to describe this mower. His handle was originally meant to fold down and is held in place with two big knobs that… wait, one knob and a wingnut. The other knob fell off a couple weeks ago, causing some tension between me and The Boy (1. I have had that mower for twelve fucking years and I never failed to notice when the knob THAT HOLDS THE HANDLE ON fell off; 2. How difficult is purchasing a wingnut?). Anyway, these knobs may loosen over time as you mow, causing the handle to flop.
Sometimes he doesn’t start for men. He has never failed to start for me, and almost never starts for The Boy. I’ve watched. We do the exact same starting rituals.
He likes to be left in the sun for 15 minutes before you ask him to work.
You have to add carb cleaner to the gas, or it’s not an appropriate octane level for the engine. As a related tip, the kid at Chevron 2757 on Powell Blvd is a fucking genius with small engines.
This mower will cut anything. ANYTHING. Grass, small trees, the occasional cinder block. Sure, sometimes I have to tip him up by the wonky handle and pull a mass of jungle flora out of his blades, but it’s a small price to pay. He’s been there for me for twelve years, a loyal companion and an uncomplaining partner in the neverending chore that is being a grownup.
I’m considering getting rid of the dogs and keeping the mower.
Tina said:
Lol–I love that you call your lawn mower a “he”.
saroful said:
If guys can call their cars “she” the lawnmower can be a “he.”
Melanie said:
Agreed!
Ice Scream Mama said:
i think it’s because you know how to work him..all that flattery and giving him some time to warm up, plus how could he not work for you in your bikini?
habibadanyal said:
Lol. lawnmower woes. nice read!
Stacie said:
My parents live near the Willamette Valley! Yum, Pinot. This made me laugh so much. Loved your innuendos 🙂
Shailaja/ The Moving Quill said:
That sounds like a mower I would keep too! I laughed out loud at the ‘won’t start for the boy’ bit 😉
Melanie said:
I love the continued woman power theme on this week’s grid!
April C. said:
This makes me want a lawn that comes with a mower like your BMF.
saroful said:
Like any B(?)F, my BMF took years and heartbreak to finally find 🙂
Jen said:
HE needs a name!!! Ha ha
saroful said:
I’m afraid of messing up his juju. I name the cars, the computers, the tablets, the table… but not the mower. Possibly I’m afraid to speak his name out loud.
Tina The Mess said:
This is hilarious!
You really made me laugh! 😀
Great job! 😀
C.C. said:
Don’t risk messing up any juju that great….just leave it at “He Whose Name Shall Never Be Spoken” 😉
Linda Roy said:
The title alone had me chortling! The mower as a ‘he’ entity cracked me up too.
Now go and kick that lawn’s ass!
Natalie DeYoung said:
I am a firm believer that the wonkiest of appliances and machinery works the best, particularly lawn mowers and washing machines.
Michelle Longo said:
My neighbors have a cement back yard. Other than the fact that it inexplicably needs watering several times each week, it seems pretty low maintenance. I’m too short to start our lawnmower so I can do nothing but trim my lawn with scissors.