I'm all about the environment except when the 'going green' momentum screeches to a grinding halt.
We bought, at my behest, an electric battery powered lawn mower last year right after 'taxation without representation season' was over. The thing was wonderful...at first.
As the time wore on, despite following the 'rules' of lawnmower care and feeding, the mower required more rest breaks and pit stops to refuel it's battery. If the grass required more than a gentle once over, the mower sounded like it was toiling beyond all human suffering and comprehension. Talk about a maudlin mower!
Sure, we aren't putting out that big ol' whopping carbon footprint Al Gore cries over at night while tucked into his 4,000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets he and the missus picked up during their weekend trip to Luxor in his private jet. But we also aren't putting out freshly mown stems of grass flung out to help fertilize our lawn and provide new nitrogen to the roots.
Instead, I get to mow a few feet, then go watch Sesame Street for a few hours while the anemic batteries suck in a minimal charge.
I checked with our local Sears dealership from whom we purchased this brilliant piece of time and labor saving greenware.
Turns out they don't service what they sell. Whodathunk?
But they were happy to tell me I could ship my mower AT MY EXPENSE to an authorized service center somewhere in Fiji to replace the 400$ batteries.
Uh...no.
The mower wasn't even that much to begin with.
I'm ready to smell the delicate burning of fossil fuels again. Either that or buy a few Nubian goats.
Since I am the one who labors over the yard, I wanted to be responsible and green and planet saving and all of that tree kissing, Earth hugging, environmentally saving decision making.
Turns out the only saving here is the corporate bigwigs who are saving my money instead of making a mower that actually WORKS!
GRRRRRR!!!!
I think I'll take my cuticle scissors out. I'd make better time.
*********In an addendum to this post, my wonderful Daddy brought over his GASOLINE powered mower. It looked at the battery powered 'weak sister' with a jaundiced eye then proceeded to bring my lawn into Augusta compliance in no time at all.
I'm recommitted to a mower with actual power. After all, I am a busy woman. With the time spent mowing and recharging that is wasted I could catch up on my reading, knit an afghan or send letters to shut-ins.
Oh, I am so funny!
Actually, with the time I saved, I took a shower, washed some towels and took a nap. . .
On gasoline fumes...
April 17, 2009
April 15, 2009
Family Photos
The Family -
And this is me...we won't discuss when. But it really is me. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...
In the interest of truth, here is the most recent photo of me when I am NOT wearing my favorite blue plaid pajamas...
Thomas continues to serve the Lord on his mission. He is happy and busy and that is the greatest blessing of all - to immerse oneself into the work and go forward with joy.
Here's Jared about a month after his surgery. He has been through an awful lot but maintains his cheerful, smiling countenance. We are so blessed to have our sweet Jared!
Our very own resident Scoutmaster. Not every house can boast a scoutmaster who is also a fine husband...and skilled carpenter, mason, tilesetter, kisser, painter, drywall installer...
And this is me...we won't discuss when. But it really is me. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...
In the interest of truth, here is the most recent photo of me when I am NOT wearing my favorite blue plaid pajamas...April 13, 2009
Listening
Did you ever wonder why people talk so much?
Being a jacket wearing, card carrying member of the motor-mouth association, there are times I am sick to death of hearing my own noise.
Then, to be fair, there are times I'm sick to death of hearing OTHER people's noise too.
When we are talking about something that is important to us as individual people, it's also important to remember that the people compelled to hear us may not be as enthusiastic as their pasted on smiles may make us believe.
Listening, really listening, not just with ears that are partially attuned to the message, but with a heart that is open to receive the feelings of the message is an essential that I am still searching to make part of me.
My mother was an excellent listener.
She didn't jump in with her opinion, advice or suggestions on what to do. She simply listened with her heart and in the process heard all that the words didn't convey at all.
She heard the loneliness and frustration of a heart that was hurting.
She could hear the hidden message from a child who simply didn't know enough words to share their message.
She was able to hear through the application of love.
I don't listen well. I am in a hurry and to paraphrase the lyrics by an Alabama song: 'I'm in a hurry to talk but I don't know why'...because I generally don't have anything worthwhile to say.
During my hours of dreaming of the better self I'd like to become, they say visualizing your goal is always the first step toward attaining it, I dream of a woman who is capable and WILLING to shut her mouth, censure her opinions and simply hear what another heart is crying out to say.
I'm not there yet.
There are days I'm not even sure I know where they path starts for the trip to 'there'.
But I still hope for the time where the ability to truly 'be still' is part of who I have become.
I can feel bits of that feeling in the temple.
It doesn't matter what geography plays host to the House of the Lord. When I am there, I am trying each time to listen in a way that I haven't done before. Not just listening but FEELING the words of inspiration that I seek.
It's not always a success.
Had I been a dog, I would have been a hyper, yippy, witless furbag who couldn't stay focused on the task at hand because something would distract me and off to the races I'd go.
I think of the soft hands of my Mother soothing a child who didn't always say what was going on, but she knew anyway as we would sit and talk.
Like now, the talking was mostly on my part. With Momma being gone now, she can't answer me in the way I'd like sometimes.
And sometimes words were not enough. Momma knew that. It was at those times when she would drop whatever she was doing and just sit and listen.
Years later when my boys were little, I asked her why she would put aside the house, the chores and the distractions of adult life to do so much sitting and listening.
She simply said that the dishes would wait, but that children won't.
I'm still trying to hear that message even now. Not just for children, but for anyone who has even the tinest interest in the real estate of my heart. I need to hear them as if their life matters as much to me as mine does.
Becasue surely, without those who are there to support me, if I am not able to be there for them, what good have I done in this world and will it matter in the end?
Being a jacket wearing, card carrying member of the motor-mouth association, there are times I am sick to death of hearing my own noise.
Then, to be fair, there are times I'm sick to death of hearing OTHER people's noise too.
When we are talking about something that is important to us as individual people, it's also important to remember that the people compelled to hear us may not be as enthusiastic as their pasted on smiles may make us believe.
Listening, really listening, not just with ears that are partially attuned to the message, but with a heart that is open to receive the feelings of the message is an essential that I am still searching to make part of me.
My mother was an excellent listener.
She didn't jump in with her opinion, advice or suggestions on what to do. She simply listened with her heart and in the process heard all that the words didn't convey at all.
She heard the loneliness and frustration of a heart that was hurting.
She could hear the hidden message from a child who simply didn't know enough words to share their message.
She was able to hear through the application of love.
I don't listen well. I am in a hurry and to paraphrase the lyrics by an Alabama song: 'I'm in a hurry to talk but I don't know why'...because I generally don't have anything worthwhile to say.
During my hours of dreaming of the better self I'd like to become, they say visualizing your goal is always the first step toward attaining it, I dream of a woman who is capable and WILLING to shut her mouth, censure her opinions and simply hear what another heart is crying out to say.
I'm not there yet.
There are days I'm not even sure I know where they path starts for the trip to 'there'.
But I still hope for the time where the ability to truly 'be still' is part of who I have become.
I can feel bits of that feeling in the temple.
It doesn't matter what geography plays host to the House of the Lord. When I am there, I am trying each time to listen in a way that I haven't done before. Not just listening but FEELING the words of inspiration that I seek.
It's not always a success.
Had I been a dog, I would have been a hyper, yippy, witless furbag who couldn't stay focused on the task at hand because something would distract me and off to the races I'd go.
I think of the soft hands of my Mother soothing a child who didn't always say what was going on, but she knew anyway as we would sit and talk.
Like now, the talking was mostly on my part. With Momma being gone now, she can't answer me in the way I'd like sometimes.
And sometimes words were not enough. Momma knew that. It was at those times when she would drop whatever she was doing and just sit and listen.
Years later when my boys were little, I asked her why she would put aside the house, the chores and the distractions of adult life to do so much sitting and listening.
She simply said that the dishes would wait, but that children won't.
I'm still trying to hear that message even now. Not just for children, but for anyone who has even the tinest interest in the real estate of my heart. I need to hear them as if their life matters as much to me as mine does.
Becasue surely, without those who are there to support me, if I am not able to be there for them, what good have I done in this world and will it matter in the end?
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