I am Woman...

It has been a long week. So long in fact, that I didn't realize it had been a whole week. But my calender, indeed, tells me that it has been. One word for you....

VBS.

Yep, now you all understand and I don't have to do any more explaining.

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With that little matter cleared up, I wanted to tell you all about my newest "I am Woman, Hear me Roar" experience. I mowed my first lawn this week.

My dear sweet husband has been working his fingers to the bone and burning the midnight oil for weeks. And we have been one of the few lucky regions of the state to receive some nice little summer showers. Nice enough showers to turn a reasonable lawn into a jungle. And so the combination of my husband's lack of time to mow and my embarrassment of our foot-high grass led me to get the bright idea that I could tackle the chore.

So I called my friend and asked her how to start a lawn mower.

And then I called another friend to ask for a second opinion, wherein I learned about an incredibly important "primer button" that made a world of difference.

And then I was off. Sort of. You see, our mower is not the type of mower that is self-propelled and when your grass is a foot high, this is quite a task. Oh, did I mention it was 1:00 in the afternoon and 95 degrees outside? But I was determined that I could do it.

I chose to mow the backyard first. That way, if I really messed things up, no one would really see it. Finally...and I mean, finally....I finished the back and decided to take a drink break before I tackled the front. And I was a little giddy with accomplishment.

The phone rang and it was Gary. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Mowing the lawn," I replied, mater-of-factly.

"What?!" he asked. "No, I don't want you mowing the lawn. I am going to do that this weekend."

"Too late. I have already done the back and now I am moving on to the front," I responded. "I know you are busy and you are working hard and I wanted to do it for you." And I truly meant it. He has been working so hard, I feel sorry for him and I know he doesn't feel like mowing, besides the fact that it is often getting dark when he gets home.

"Well, let me do the weed-eating," he insisted.

No arguments there. I wasn't sure how to start that thing, either.

I pulled the mower around to the front. The most important part...the part everyone sees and judges. And I started mowing a beautiful path. By this point, I was a pro.

And then, after a few swipes, the mower stopped. I was out of gas.

Nothing a powerful woman can't handle. I grabbed the gas can and headed for the gas station. Once I got the lawnmower filled back with gas, I finished the lawn, put up the lawnmower and admired my work.

I had done it!

And I was sure those little random sprigs that I missed could be gotten with the weed-eater this weekend.