Why I Mow My Own Yard

The following is a true story...

One day, shortly after joining the PGA tour in 1965, Lee Trevino, a professional golfer and married man, was at his home in Dallas Texas mowing his front lawn, as he always did. 

A lady driving by in a big, shiny Cadillac stopped in front of his house, lowered the window and asked, "Excuse me, do you speak English?"

Lee responded, "Yes Ma'am, I do." 

The lady then asked, "What do you charge to do yard work?"

Lee said, "Well the lady in this house let's me sleep with her."

The lady hurriedly put the car into gear and sped off.

The Finger

While I cut Jim's hair today, he was telling me of a little incident that he was part of about a week ago.  At nearly 80 years old, he still drives and is quite active.

While driving home from the grocery store, he said a fellow drove up behind him and appeared to be very annoyed at him for no apparent reason.  When the left lane was clear, the driver sped up and passed him.  Seconds later they were both stopped at the red light just ahead.  Jim now in the left lane and the other driver in the right.  Both, at the same time, turned and looked at each other.  At which time, Jim instantly turned up his right hand and gave him the 'little' finger.

I said, "You gave him the little finger?  What happened to the middle finger?"

"Yeah, but I only used the metric system on him." he said.

Gotta love a guy who still has a great sense of humor, even in his eighties.

British Humor

The train was quite crowded and, a U.S. Marine walked the entire length looking for a seat, but the only seat left was taken by a well-dressed, middle-aged, French woman's poodle.

The war-weary Marine asked, 'Ma'am, may I have that seat?'

The French woman just sniffed and said to no one in particular. 'Americans are so rude. My little Fifi is using that seat.'

The Marine walked the entire train again, but the only seat left was under that dog.

'Please Ma'am.  May I sit down?  I'm very tired.'

She snorted, 'Not only are you Americans rude, you are also arrogant!'

This time the Marine didn't say a word; he just picked up the little dog, tossed it out the train window, and sat down.

The woman shrieked, 'Someone must defend my honour!  This American should be put in his place!'

An English gentleman sitting nearby spoke up, 'Sir, you Americans seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing. You hold the fork in the wrong hand.  You drive your cars on the wrong side of the road.  And now, Sir, you seem to have thrown the wrong bitch out of the window.'

Long Shot

So far it's been an unusual summer around here.  Extreme temperatures, high winds, to much rain and way to many mosquitoes!

But there's another thing that has caused havoc around our place this summer.  Hornets!  Now hornets won't burn your house down, or kill you, but it could happen.  And it almost did for me, about a week ago, in both cases.

I was mowing the lawn, and must have disturbed a nest of them in the ground, when all of a sudden I was being attacked by a swarm, ready to devour me.  I instantly let the lawnmower go, as my hands went flailing above my head, trying desperately to ward of my attackers, running for my life at the same time.  This all happened in less than two seconds.  But in that short time frame, I had been stung five times.  Three hits on my left wrist, one on the tip of a finger and one on the top of my nose.  (And for anyone who 'nose' me, you'd have to agree, any bigger would not be a pretty site.) 

The following day, after nursing my wounds, my wife discovered a hornets nest under a bench in front of  the picture window on our deck.  She thought lighting a votive candle,  and placing it under the bench near the nest might drive them away.  It didn't work.  Actually I think they kinda liked the soothing smell. 

That same evening I decided to run in town and pick up a can of wasp spray, that a friend suggested.  It was called "Long Shot."  Guaranteed to get rid of our pest problem, he said.

I waited 'till about 10pm before carrying out my execution.  I stood back about six feet, bent down, took careful aim and pulled the trigger.  In all my excitement to rid those nasty critters for good, I had neglected to blow out the candle first.  Instantly, I was holding a six foot flame thrower.  The nest caught fire, the deck caught fire, flames were shooting up the side of our ceder home.  I threw my 'torch', ran inside to the kitchen, grabbed the fire extinguisher from underneath the sink, pulled the pin as I ran back to the deck, kicked the bench over (in my bare feet) putting a one inch gash in my right foot, at the same time dousing the fire with the chemicals. 

That whole scene was played out in about ten to fifteen seconds.  It's amazing the adrenaline rush we get when we are faced with such a panic situation.

No damage was done to the deck or the ceder siding.  Only the fumes ignited and was put out before the wood had a chance to actually catch on fire.  

All the hornets died!