A Jungle No More

Move over Lawnmower Man... Pastor Reagan's out to steal your job. Took me (well... us I guess) two days to get all this done. If you've been to my house for piano don't tell me you haven't thought "good night people, PLEASE clean up your yard." Yes the weeds and gardening have been a little neglected this year, but not anymore. And it's hard to say this without sounding critical of R, so please don't think I'm hubby-bashing or anything, but let's just say I'm the one who gets things like tools for Christmas. Just not his niche... or so I thought. Guess an old dog can learn a new trick or two after all.

I worked all day yesterday pulling weeds and actually defining a line between the yard and the flowerbed in the front yard. Today was the day to do the same in the back yard, mow, trim, and spread mulch. (Let me just tell you that crab grass must find it's roots in hades. I swear that stuff comes straight from the devil.) Reese is napping and we're all geared up and ready to go when out of the blue the mower won't start. Well great. Surprises lurk around every corner. I had exhausted all of my Mrs.-Fix-It ideas AND called my Daddy (who can fix anything) and still no mower. Guess who came to the rescue?!? He just took over, disappeared twice to Lowe's, and left me pulling weeds in the back. All of the sudden I heard the familiar hum of the mower and voila! Shock, Amazement, Awe... these were only a few of the words I could've used to describe my thoughts at that very moment. Reagan fixed the mower and I didn't have to do a thing with it.

So... if you're driving by the Wagoner's house or dropping your kid off to piano... feel free now to leave your machete behind. It will no longer be a necessary tool to make it to my front door.