Normally, I am ruler over the domain that is my lawn. I have no problem pulling out the weed whacker and attacking the evil things that sprout up behind the garage. I imagine most guys are like this. There is something special about the smell of lawnmower exhaust and fresh cut grass. I revel in the clean cut lawn, that for just a day, hides the fact that there are 72 varieties of grass and 32 weed types growing in my little 1/3 acre.
Recently though, my lawn has been kicking my butt. I think it happens every year about this time. The combination of rainy spring days and an truly amazing explosion of growth means that I am always behind. Currently I have a rain forest growing behind the garage and the shed. I meant to break out the almighty weed whacker this past weekend, but a fun little power outage prevented that. The dandelions continue to sprout unabated, and the front flower bed is starting to look a little like a high desert plain.
Why is it that us men judge part of our self worth by the quality of our lawn? Is it ingrained in us a children, when the men of the block used to gather around over a beer and talk about the type of fertilizer they used, or what brand of grass seed works best by the pool. I don't know the answer here, but I do know I will feel better after this long weekend, after I reclaim the JD lawn kingdom.
Everyone has seen the commercials... "You may have Restless Leg Syndrome... contact your doctor today to see how they can help."
This is quite possibly the lamest disease on record. Instead of using their research dollars to combat AIDS, or cancer, we find out that the drug companies are instead spending it on magic drugs to keep our legs still. Thanks for stopping by.
Then I thought about it. When you see the commercial, you immediately think..."Hey, maybe I have RLS, sometimes my legs won't stop moving around in bed. Maybe I should call my doctor." BANG, big pharma has just accomplished it's goal. I fell victim to this as well, what clever marketing.
Then I thought about it a little more.... Are these people crazy?? Everyone that I have asked says that occasionally their legs get a little jumpy. I would take a guess that say this condition is part of... oh you know BEING ALIVE. So please don't call your doctor, don't contribute to the United States being the most medicated country on earth.
On the whole, I am a pretty positive guy. If you asked almost anyone who has daily contact with me, one thing they would say about me is that I am that annoying relentlessly optimistic guy. When I was in Junior High, I read a poem, "The Cold Within." It points out the sadness that is apparent in the human condition; racism, classism, things that still haunt us today. I remain positive that we as a species are making progress, but I use this poem as a reminder that humans are still striving to be better. Read...think....and love your neighbor as yourself.
THE COLD WITHIN by Anon.
Six humans trapped by happenstance in black and bitter cold Each possessed a stick of wood, Or so the story's told.
Their dying fire in need of logs, the first woman held hers back For on the faces around the fire She noticed one was black.
The next man looking 'cross the way Saw one not of his church And couldn't bring himself to give The fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes He gave his coat a hitch, Why should his log be put to use To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought Of the wealth he had in store, And how to keep what he had earned From the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge As the fire passed from his sight, For all he saw in his stick of wood Was a chance to spite the white.
And the last man of this forlorn group Did naught except for gain, Giving only to those who gave Was how he played the game.
The logs held tight in death's stilled hands Was proof of human sin, They didn't die from the cold without, They died from the cold within.