So my mother and I went to buy a lawn mower yesterday and we met Gollum from “Lord of the Rings”.
Alright, I’ll back up a bit.
I came home from work on Saturday night to find the mangled remains of my mother’s lawn mower upside down and in the middle of the front yard. Apparently my brother and the lawn mower had a disagreement and it came to blows. The only winners in this battle though were my neighbours who got to witness the spectacular display of Irish tempertantrics. The final result was that the lawn mower was retired, my brother was exhausted from flinging it around in an effort to make it work (no comment), and my mother and I had to pick up a new lawn mower on Sunday.
We walked into Loews and were making our way to the mowers when I heard a scratchy voice ask my mother if she needed any help. I turned around to chide my mother for talking to strangers and nearly fell over a display of Tiki torches. The person who was helping her – and I don’t mean this as a slam because the gentleman was a very sweet grandfather of ten – but he was small and thin and, to me, looked almost exactly like Smeagol. It made the shopping trip more bearable since we all know how I loathe shopping.
“Do you want a mower that is self-propelled?” “Smeagol” asked us as we walked over to the display of mowers.
“That would make it easier to push, wouldn’t it?” I asked back.
“Oh definitely,” he laughed.
“Then we don’t want that. My brother is the one who does the mowing and there’s no reason to make things easier for that butthead,” I told him. “In fact do you have any of those old fashioned push ones?”
“We don’t need it to be self-propelled,” my mother cut in, “but is gas or electric better?”
“The electric works well if you have a small yard, but otherwise a gas one would be best.”
“I think we can all agree that what would be best is whichever one makes my brother work the hardest,” I said. “Now where are those old push mowers?”
To my delight, they do still make the old-fashioned, non-gas push mowers and Smeagol escorted us to where we could find one.
“There ya go,” Smeagol grinned. “And the push ones leave no carbon footprint!”
“No carbon footprint!” I repeated to my mother. “You see what a brilliant idea this is?”
“It cuts sixteen inches across at a time so it might take him a while,” Smeagol added.
“I will seriously pay for the lawn mower if you buy this one,” I told my mother.
My mother, from whom I get my short attention span, had already been distracted the display of shiny weed whackers behind us though.
“We should probably get a new weed whacker, too,” she said. “The old one has been sitting outside and rusting since Dad died.”
“Now weed whackers are another ballgame,” Smeagol began.
“The thing that you have to remember though,” I waved my hands to get Mumma’s attention from the wall of garden toys, “is that I want goats, and–”
My mother began to rudely laugh, however I continued.
“–they should be able to handle a bit of edging.”
“With goats you would only need to buy a little hand shovel. And you would get milk!” Smeagol added.
“I knew I liked this guy!” I exclaimed. “So we’re agreed on the goats?”
In the end, my mother bought a gas lawn mower, though not a self-propelled, and decided to wait on the weed whacker. And I didn’t get my goats yet. The day would have been a complete disappointment for me except that thanks to the trip I have since decided to refer to the woman who does my Brazilian waxing as a “weed whacker”.
A quick end note here, I have some potentially fucking awesome news about my long-awaited book. I am a big believer in not counting my goats before they are hatched though, so I’m not showing my hand just yet. The only thing is that you may notice is that I’ve started to update the format this blog and make it at least look more like an actual writer’s website. Believe me, content will stay the same because I am what I am–and that is to say that I’m a fucking lunatic and I like telling you about it. In addition to being a lunatic though, I am very serious when it comes to my writing, so I’ve added a new About Me section that sounds a little more professional than my original one.
(However, I’m still keeping the old one because, like I said, I am what I am and that that About Me probably illustrates who I am more than any actual paragraphs ever could.)