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The older I get the more off kilter is the concept of wanting children. In my youth I wanted kids. And a wife. But before too long I became so independent and set in my ways that I enjoy the freedom of not being married and I tend to appreciate the notion that children should be seen and not heard. And then there's yard work. That's when I wish I had kids. My father used me like a slave. At parties he easily volunteered me to take out trash. I was 7 or 8 years old. The bags of trash were nearly the same size as me and I had no idea where the condominium trash bins lived. I hated it. Fetch me this, go and do that. But if I had children now that I'm doing my own lawn...slave labor would be awesome.
Recently I was working in the yard and a neighbor walked by and complimented how good things were looking. She said you shouldn't be out working in this heat; you should be doing this later in the day. Lady, if I waited to do yard work like that it would take a month to get it all done. Besides, who doesn't love being outside in Houston summer at 2PM? I always say I'm a vampire, however and most unfortunate, my eyesight is human, so pruning bushes and mowing the yard at night isn't logical.
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| Let the bags fall where they may |
The yard compliment was greatly appreciated because the physical exertion had killed me. Literally. Several times, actually.
Death 1: First of all, I was sweating so much that I drowned. Simply too much water to breathe. I've worked up good sweats all my life. In college I worked for a family friend who owned a warehouse where I broke my sweaty back loading 55-foot containers with 50 pound bags of fertilizer. My step-father paid me good money to mow our yard when I was 10. (Fifty cents a week is good money, right?) Was I time I sweat like a normal young man. I never knew I could sweat so much as I do now, and in the past few years I can wring the sweat out of tees like I just excited a pool. If you've seen the movie "Airplane," the scene with Ted Striker at the controls with water running down his face...that is me.
Death 2: A few minutes later I had heat stroke and passed out. At least in my mind I did. When I awoke on the damp ground I thought I had gone to heaven, but soon learned it was just the cozy morning dew and a dog licking me. Either I have a good imagination or was delirious in the 94 degree heat with a real feel of 112. Felt more like 500 degrees. I didn't pass out and wake up in heaven. But I thought about it.
Death 3: After pruning the bushes and cutting them down to bundle up for the trash to haul away, my back broke into two. Two completely pieces of PenguinScott. The break was so bad that I had to get the owner's manual to put myself back together. That was some labor, but I do love my home and take pride in its appearance.
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| Home |
I'm definitely not as young as I used to be. When I was young I could be out in the afternoon Houston heat doing yard work no problem. Granted I never liked it. Now that I'm 500 years old I can only do a few little tasks and then have to sit for 5 minutes to wipe the sweat and drink a gallon of water. After resting I can get back to the tasks; what used to take 2 hours now takes 2 days.
Towards the end of the evening, with the sun sinking low, people with half a brain began coming outside to enjoy the evening. I was up on the ladder cleaning my gutters when my neighbors from Puerto Rico came into their front yard speaking Spanish. From looking at them, they were having a pleasant conversation. To hear them, however, it sounded like a group of people arguing over what they were going to have for dinner. They are a lively group and we enjoyed the entertainment we provided each other. My waterworks, their spirited conversation.
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| Good looking back yard |
The gutters cleared, I decided to prune the bush that was beginning to tower over my house. I'm standing on the ladder over my dining room window with the lopper tackling a branch that was a bit too large to be handled by a lopper-wielding old man on a ladder. I saw out of the corner of my eye that my neighbors noticed my struggle, perhaps thinking I was in way over my head and in real danger of falling and breaking my neck. They rose as if to come rescue me just as the branch gave up and fell to the ground with a thud. They acted as if they had left their seat to pull a weed, but were now impressed by my strength.
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| I am Penguin. Hear me roar |
They had such little faith in my abilities. After years of lifting weights in my youth, I'm stronger than I appear. I may not be as heat tolerant or as spry as young PenguinScott, and I may have an active imagination with all the times I died but didn't, slaving in the heat, but I can still get it done when done needs getting.
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