I know the word random is egregiously overused, thanks 20-year-olds, but sometimes it is the best word for the job.
First, some confessions:
- I almost stole a magazine from the doctor’s office because Mark Wahlberg was on the cover, shirtless.
- I never brush my hair. It hurts too much.
- Sometimes when my kids ask me questions, I make shit up. “Mom, what comes after a trillion?” “A gazillion, now go to sleep.”
- My favorite movie: The Fifth Element. Yes, the sci-fi action movie with Bruce Willis. I could watch it every day.
- My dream job: anything that involves really fast driving.
The WordPress blogging prompt is to observe yourself through your neighbor’s eyes, which is something I do ALL THE TIME anyway, so here goes: I can’t believe I live next door to people who don’t care about their lawn. They never fertilize or water it, I’m not even sure that what they’re mowing is actually grass. Boy, my neighbor should lay off the beer and ice cream, or take up jogging. I wonder if they’ll move soon. I wonder if they’ll ever pick up the thirty thousand plastic trucks all over the “lawn.” And what is that? Is that boy playing with a vacuum in the sandbox? Why, why, why? Will they ever move? And what now, are those kids putting water in the holes that they just dug to suck the contents out of the septic tank? Naked kids in the septic hole-pool! Someone call protective services.
Okay, it’s the real me again. No, it is not grass. We had a beautiful meadow until the neighbors moved in and I felt it would be neighborly to mow. Anytime I walk over to the neighbor’s front door and look back at my house, I feel shame. So many toys. Uneven lawn, gardens need to be weeded. The front walk is unfinished, despite the fact that we’ve lived here for eight years. Then I remind myself that a lush green lawn is a joy to frolic on, but also poisonous to kids and animals, and a resource hog. Feed me, Seymour, it cries. Give me more water, more fertilizer, spread the weed killer. No thanks. My goal is to have strips of lawn to serve as pathways between gardens.
My neighbor has his own goal: catch the moles that are creating unattractive tunnels in his velvety grass. He spends an inordinate amount of time setting traps, showing the kids where they are so no one stumbles into them, re-setting the traps when the frisbee lands on it. But those darn moles take one look and tunnel on over to my place, eat my lawn grubs, laugh wildly and go back over to the neighbor’s the next day. I haven’t put out a “Moles Welcome” sign, but you’d think he would notice. Maybe it’s too hard to see the furrows on my lawn because of all the shovels, hoses and trucks lying around.
One last random tidbit. I found this genius blog that you have to check out. This woman is sure to get a book/movie deal out of her shitty year.