8-30-04

Yes, I am afraid it's true, I have been battling lawn mowers a long time. For some unknown reason, it seems they hold a serious grudge against me. As a teenager, it was one of my chores to cut the grass. We lived on over an acre, and my parents made me do this evil chore. The evil part is the lawn mower. It had no motor, no luxury of being self-propelled, just the manual spinning wheel. It was crap. I did not live in the 1800's and I certainly did not live in hickville, yet I was subjected to this Quaker labor. One year I was off at some leadership conference when it finally dawned on my parents that cutting the grass really sucked. They splurged and bought not just any lawn mower, but a riding lawn mower. Cha ching! I was totally stoked. I was gonna ride in style. My joy and excitement did not last long, my Dad insisted on doing the lawn. I wasn't allowed to operate the luxury equipment. I believe this is where the battle began.

I didn't cut the grass again until I was in my early 20's. I managed fine as I had a yard about the size of my fist. It wasn't until about 5 years ago that the battle became interesting. I had watched my husband unclog the little opening where the grass comes out, a million times. He had just ran over an old brick and wanted to make sure there were no more bricks or rocks hidden in the grass, so I volunteered to finish the rest of the lawn while he inspected. I was mowing away happily when that little opening got clogged with grass. I reached down grabbed the clump and felt excruciating pain. It's amazing how slow and yet how lightening fast the brain works all at the same time. In one single moment I realized what had happened and yet was in disbelief at the same time. I was absolutely petrified to pull my hand out for I was positive I had no fingers left. I was smart enough to turn the bugger off, but too scared to remove my hand. I stood there frozen. Finally my husband came over and asked what was wrong. I couldn't reply due to overwhelming fear and embarrassment. The moment came to remove my hand, I closed my eyes and asked if I still had fingers. Amazingly, they were all there! Every single one of them was still attached. I felt the blade run across them and was convinced I had lost them all. Was I really going to be like one of those "Woodshop Gone Wrong" guys with missing fingers? Turns out the brick my husband ran over, had actually bent the blade up and consequently saved my hand. Had he not run over it, the blades would have swiftly chopped off all my digits. My doctor just shook his head in disbelief, explaining in detail how I should never insert my hand into a running lawn mower. Duh. I heard multiple horror stories of people who were not so lucky. Lost toes, hands, to name a few, all due to lawn mowers. I must never do this again. I was grateful to have all my fingers and made tons of promises to tons of people to never attempt this again.

About 3 years later I decided on a whim, to try it again. I was going to surprise my husband with a freshly cut lawn. Our lawn mower was being fixed and we had a lender. It was supposed to be awesome. It also had a bag on it, so there was no need for me to unclog it. This was the perfect opportunity to prove I could handle cutting the grass. I would make amends with stupid lawn mowers and redeem myself. Our yard was fairly flat on the top part, but it had lots of slopes. I fired the puppy up and began to mow. Immediately I noticed how tough it was to push. It felt like it weighed a ton, but that wasn't going to stop me. I used all my might to push that elephant up and down the slopes. Sweat was dripping profusely from my forehead, and quite frankly, I thought I was gonna die. Despite how difficult it was, I managed to finish, but not before I cussed that piece of crap out. I was pissed off that this lender mower was impossible to use. You'd have to be a fricken strong to cut the grass on a regular basis. My husband came home and was surprised to see the lawn mowed. I was beaming with pride, he was mad. The exchanged looks were quickly followed by a brief bitch session on how crappy the lawn mower was. I explained that it was horrible and we should say something about it. He looked extremely confused by this. "What do you mean it's crappy? It's like the best lawn mower there is !" . No it wasn't, it was hard as hell to push and took forever, it was garbage. He started it up and proceeded to push it across a small strip of the grass. "See? It's impossible to push!". I was sure I had made my case when his look of confusion soon turned into laughter. I saw no humor in this situation and was getting pretty pissed off that he found it funny. I had worked my ass off and here he was bent over laughing. "What's so fricken funny?" I asked. He began asking questions, too many questions. "Did you put it in gear?" . Gear? It had gears? What the heck was he talking about? He was still laughing when he asked me to show him how I was using it. I walked over, started it up and began pushing again. It must have been at least 5 minutes of him laughing before he'd tell me what was so funny. In between gasps for air, he managed to blurt out, "You had it in neutral!". What? What did neutral mean and why is it so funny? "What do you mean in neutral?". This was a self-propelled lawn mower, the kind I had dreamed of as a teenager. I soon learned that a self-propelled lawn mower has gears, gears make it move, when it is in neutral it doesn't move. I had mowed our entire lawn with it in neutral. This was apparently hysterical to everyone who heard about it. Once again I had been defeated by a lawn mower.

Lawn Mower - 2
Jenn- 0

I felt as if someone had run over me with a truck when I got up the following day, but I refused to say anything. Of course I was sore, it was to be expected after the great physical feat of pushing a 3 ton lawn mower. I was going to pop Motrin and keep my aching shoulders to myself. That is until I could no longer lift a coffee cup. I sat and contemplated what I should do. If I said anything, I would only be laughed at further, and yet how long could I go like this? I secretly made an appointment with my Doctor so I could possibly get muscle relaxers or something. Big mistake. I went in and explained my shoulders were sore, this of course, brought lots of questions. Questions I did not want to answer. After examining my shoulders, my physician looked confused. Welcome to Bursa Sacs 101. Apparently you have 2 in each shoulder, front and back, and it's quite common for people to irritate one or maybe 2. I had all four inflamed and very irritated. The doctor looked at me and said "What did you really do? Because I have never seen this before." Never seen this before? Good gawd, that statement scared me, so I confessed. I endured more laughter and embarrassment, this time from my trusted doctor. Doctors aren't supposed to laugh at you. After hearing my explanation he told me this made more sense than just having "sore" shoulders. I was given an anti-inflammatory and told to stay away from lawn mowers.

One of my dear friends suggested I use scissors next time. Clever eh ? I have never lived this down, to this day jokes are still made at my expense. After many years of ridicule I recently decided to once more, tackle the lawn mower. It was forbidden, but I had to conquer this battle and win. I am proud to say I have mowed the lawn 3 times with no mishaps. Much to the amazement of friends and family, I am injury free. The score is now showing me in the lead. I am winning. I have risen to the challenge, faced my fears, and am desperately trying to rid myself of the stigma I have carried for so long. Somehow I know, that no matter how many times I successfully mow the lawn, I will always be remembered for the times I failed. It's so not fair.

Jenn from the Block
Volunteer Writer