• Gary and His Lawnmower are Soon Parted

    Gary’s Dad, Ken, just recently had a scare about his prostate. The morning after Ken’s yearly physical, he was out mowing the lawn when the doctor called and demanded he come in and get a battery of tests, since the results from his yearly blood tests were very bad. The doctor even specifically said, “Stop whatever you are doing and come in right now.” So of course Ken went in immediately and great quantities of urine were drained from his body and he was fitted with a catheter and what I felt was a very cunning catheter bag. And he was told, again, specifically, don’t finish mowing the lawn, there will be no lawn mowing for two weeks before surgery and then twelve weeks until after surgery.

    Well, are the S_____s concerned? Are they worried about what they refer to as the Roto-Rooter surgery, during which they mistakenly think a small auger will be placed into Ken’s penis and the urethra will be widened so more urine comes out? No, why worry about such details when there is a partially-mowed lawn in Florissant? So the family’s concern is focused on how this lawn will get mowed.

    Gary contacted six lawn-mowing services, since that’s how our lawn is mowed, and that’s how it should be done, especially by seventy-five year old men. All six lawn-mowing services were rejected even before they could do more than an estimate, one because they caused the dogs to bark, one because they had long hair, another caused the dogs to bark, one had no teeth, and one had (I am ashamed to say such bigotry exists in Florissant) long RED hair. And the last service had to be called and cancelled because the S_____’s could make no excuses about the last, a dark-haired fully-toothed Florissant couple who wanted to meet them before they even looked at the lawn. Ken and Wilma just said “We can’t stand having someone else mow the lawn. Can you just bring over your old lawn mower you still have in your garage and just do it for us?”
    “No” I said to Gary when he told me about it, “you don’t mow lawns. That’s why you pay to have your lawn mowed.”
    “I think I can do it,” he said heroically.
    “No, I think you’ll make the dogs bark.”
    “Really, I kind of miss mowing the lawn.”
    “Stop talking nonsense!” I gasped. No way was I having him again take up entire weekends threatening to mow, preparing to mow, looking at the sky, testing the wind, testing the grass, grass too wet to mow, too long, going to be dark in a few hours, etc. “Besides, I’m sure your old mower won’t start.” The S_____’s themselves have a mower they felt was too shabby to have Gary use, the type of mower an old couple would have bought fifteen years ago at Central Hardware. Ken has to use a screwdriver to start it and there is no front right wheel.
    This caused Gary to confront his old mower hidden in the deepest part of the garage. It is an old mower that a young couple would have bought fifteen years ago at Central Hardware. And Gary was ashamed.
    “I can’t give my parents this old mower,” he said. “I think I’ll buy them a new one.”
    I didn’t say anything, I had to think carefully at this juncture. So MUCH to say, but if I said something like “You could just buy him a new prostate, wouldn’t that be more direct?” or “You are deranged,” I could blow the whole thing. So I obliquely said,
    “Won’t they be upset? You know they don’t like you to spend money on them.”
    “I just won’t tell them it’s new. I’ll tell them it’s my old mower.”
    “Won’t they know it’s not your old mower?” I asked, “It’ll look new.”
    “I’ll dirty it up.”
    Instead of saying, what, we’re antiquing a mower? We’re distressing it? I said, “Isn’t that a little deceptive?”
    “NO it isn’t! They said bring over my mower, and if I pay for it, it’s my mower!” He glared at me, daring me to say something else.
    I stopped being cautious with my words. “Does this depend on what the meaning of ‘is’ is, President Clinton? Do you lie to me this — “
    “SHUT up! If I want to buy my parents a mower then I can, and I don’t have to even talk to you about it.” And the conversation was over. I had blown it. However, I had my own separate bank account so I wasn’t too concerned.

    Gary researched mowers and decided on a Honda self-propelled model, perfect for old men because we know the mower is never going back in to our garage. Oh wait — the mower never WAS in our garage. Anyway, the next day at the lawnmower store I wandered off to the side as the salesman asked if Gary was interested in the Honda.
    “Yes” Gary said, “but $1,200.00 was a little more than I wanted to pay.” It was $1,200.00 more than I would want to pay, and then Gary and the salesman left the store and I wondered what was going on. Then not five minutes later they were back and Gary was pulling out his Visa and the salesman was not with him. I went over. He finished paying $???? for a ????? and we left. He then told me they had used mowers for sale (pre-antiqued!) and he bought the same model he had wanted for only $500.00 and it had been owned by a little old lady who didn’t mow much. (She only mowed to church and back, evidently.)

    And I was thinking about it and I suppose if your family is totally insane and irrational, and you yourself can’t admit you are worried about your dad, then lying to your parents and yourself is the only way to deal with the situation. Besides, I liked being the only one in the know the next day when Gary brought his “old” mower to the S_____’s and demonstrated it. His dad had never used a self-propelled mower (nor had Gary, of course) and he wanted to watch how it worked. So Ken went out in back, and Wilma and I stayed in the house, because mowing is men’s work, but I really wanted to be out there.

    Gary got himself gussied up in his mowing clothes and went out and started the mower. Loud mowing sounds. Then it stopped. He came back in.

    “Didn’t it work?” I asked, because I was sincerely concerned because I a) didn’t know this mower and b) thought Gary might break down and reveal the truth like in The Tell-Tale Heart.

    “Come on,” he shrugged, “Started like a charm! Don’t you want to come out and see it?”

    No, I thought, what I really want is to see you lie like a dog.
    So went outside and Gary mowed a patch and everyone oohed and ahhed until Gary noticed that the grass he had just mowed looked identical to what he had not mowed. However, the mower had made loud mowing sounds. Gary crouched down to look at the underside of the mower. He considered his next deceptive statement.

    “I can’t imagine what’s going on,” he said in all honesty.

    I added helpfully, “I think this is how it’s worked every time you’ve used this mower.”

    I tried to think of more perfectly honest things to say. There was more watching of Gary looking perplexed at every knob and lever on the mower, one by one. He did not crack.

    I said, “Did we bring the blade?”

    Ken asked, “Is the blade sharp?” even though there was no way a blade could have even spun over that grass; it was undisturbed.

    “Well yeah” Gary said, “We just had the blade — ” He stopped. Technically, this was a lie. “The blade was just sharpened a week or so ago.” True, totally true, the lawn mower shop said they had serviced it.

    More watching of Gary looking at knobs and levers. I got up to help Gary ponder the mower, and so that he could appreciate the glowing aura of smug that was coming quietly out of my body.

    Ken said, “What does that red lever do?”

    We looked at the red lever that was decorated with loosely-spaced dots that gradually became closely spaced dots, which I decided was Honda’s universal symbol for Ignore Your Father-in-Law.

    Gary had regained his lying skills after the brief stumble about the blade sharpening. “I don’t know about that lever, I’ve never used it.” Then suddenly Gary said, “Oh, well of course, the yellow button.” and he sounded as if he had just pulled out of his subconscious how to get the mower blade to work. In reality, he had just noticed the yellow button on the handle marked BLADE.

    So there was much mowing at the S_____’s, finally. Gary experimented with the red lever and suddenly remembered it regulated the self-propelled speed. There was more mowing the next weekend, and at some point the brother-in-law will also mow.

    Then my only concern was that one day a S_____-in-law would visit our garage and see we still have a lawnmower in there. I mentioned it to Gary and he took it as an accusation.

    “Well I TOLD them last weekend that we have two mowers. We do have two mowers. I paid for both mowers and that means they’re both mine.” He was defending old territory.

    I asked, “But won’t they wonder that we have two old mowers? Don’t they think that’s odd?”

    “They did ask me when I’d bought the Honda mower,” he said, “I told them it was nine years old.” Which was true.

    Anyway, Mr. S_____ had his surgery, and all went well. Now it’s just twelve weeks until the S_____s begin to insist Ken wants to mow the lawn and he likes his old mower better and we will be forced to take “our” mower back and we will have two mowers in the garage and a lawn-mowing service.

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  • Gary Takes Advantage of his Credit Card

    Gary, at the age of 45 and 11/12ths, decided to purchase a stereo to replace the one his parents gave him when he was nine (and I was one.) One day he just showed up with a stereo. It made him feel so good, the next day he brought home the rest of an entire home theater system. The next day six speakers came home with Gary. Throughout the buying process he was very careful to evaluate where the components could be hidden and if wires would show. I, my mom, and most women I know, feel about visible wires the way Joan Crawford feels about wire clothes hangers.

    Since he was so thoughtful to ensure that anyone walking in to our living room would think “why, these people must just read books all day long,” I hated to complain that he was TOUCHING MY STUFF AND MOVING IT AROUND, even for a moment, even to hide wires, even if he was moving it right back, even if he lives here. I had joked that I would like my couch potato back again, the husband who never did any projects around the house. Finally, after a few days of installing the components, we resolved it was best if he installed it late, after I went to bed. Well, that sounds like he resolved it after a fight. Okay. Actually, that’s pretty much how it was.

    Late the next night he started drilling holes in the walls. This woke me up, and even though he was doing it to hide speaker wires inside the walls, within seconds I felt agitated and controlling and got up. Within those same seconds he progressed to drilling holes in water pipes and blasting water into his new home theater system. I did get to see the deluge in mid-blast, since I had got up to say “Gary, are you drilling somewhere inconspic — Auggh!” Luckily, most of the water collected in his stereo receiver. There was only a 6 foot puddle on the floor. This gave me a chance to be as tolerant as I had been controlling, so that was good.

    He called the plumber and took the day off to deal with everything. Before the plumber came the next afternoon we plugged the hole by poking a pencil in it and filled up the tub with water. (I got this idea only after I brushed my teeth with water from the dog bowl.) He only bossed me once during this crisis and he apologized twice. In fact, when the plumber came Gary hearkened back many centuries to the Catholic belief that if you pay enough money, your sins will be absolved. The plumber was in the house 45 minutes and Gary signed up for the yearly preferred customer maintenance agreement, paid to have the pipe fixed, paid for a new faucet the plumber had on the truck which we needed anyway, and paid to have it installed.

    So, I got about $1,000 of plumbing done to the house, and after the receiver dried out it turns out it’s a pretty cool fully-concealed Home Time-Wasting System. Gary is up in the attic now snaking the back speaker wires through the attic (it turns out those water pipes lay low to the ground. Sneaky.) The only sign of damage is the square the plumber cut in the wall, which hides nicely behind the Entertainment Center/Media Shrine. Overall, it was a good experience for me.

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  • Dogs and Kangaroo (a sequel to Dogs and Butter)

    Doug, the delicate fluffy white dog, has been getting sores on his skin since day one. We thought it was the grass fertilizer, the detergent, etc. Since it has continued into the winter we are thinking he might be allergic to his food. So, he gets new food (and since it would be too hard to explain to Mac, Mac gets new food too). However, they have to find something unusual to put in the hypo-allergenic food that wouldn’t be in any other dog foods on the market. It used to be lamb, but then they started making lamb dog food.

    This is the reason why my dogs will be eating KANGAROO. Expecting the worst, I asked the vet and he said if Doug develops an allergy to Kangaroo, then we can feed him venison. I say, first the venison, then the Kangaroo. Doesn’t that make more sense? First the Disney characters, then the Pooh characters?

    Well, later, I picked up the kangaroo from the vet. I asked Gwen (the assistant) if this was 100% Grade A kangaroo. She didn’t realize I was kidding. However, she did start reading the bag, then said a moment later, “Know how much kangaroo is in this?”
    “10 percent?” I guessed, fearing the worst.
    “Zero percent,” she said, grimly, then going off to track down just exactly how Dr. Morgan had gotten the idea the was any kangaroo at all in this stuff. I was relieved they hadn’t started to laugh and say “Har – Kangaroo – really had you going.”

    I felt even better when Gwen returned and announced dryly that Dr. Morgan saw the brochure, it had kangaroos on it, there you go. We began trying to think why a marketing firm would choose kangaroos for its brochure. Well, I was trying, they were laughing at Dr. Morgan. (“Good thing they didn’t put HUMANS on the brochure.”) Turns out on further inspection of the bag (which it’s obvious no one had ever done) it was discovered that:

    1) it’s made in Australia, and that
    2) the office cats hadn’t seen the brochure and sensed it was 100% chicken and had chewed a hole in the bag.

    So, I paid $50 for a partially empty bag of American chickens that had been flown to Australia and broken down into their essential proteins. (This is what makes it non-allergenic, at least that’s what Gwen surmised. I thought she might have double-checked this with Dr. Morgan, but he was hiding.)

    So, I wasn’t too excited anymore about giving the dogs ersatz kangaroo, and I didn’t open the bag for a few days. I let them out before I went to bed and thought if I snuck the new food in when they were outside they might not notice it as much. The bag (which I had now read thoroughly) suggests slowly adding more food each day to their existing food. Of course, the chicken is a lighter color than the kangaroo (I still call it that). I was hoping they would be too sleepy the next morning to care. I set out their bowls in the hall with 20% kangaroo and 80% non-hydroliziginanted chicken, got ready for bed, and let them back in.

    Dog noses shoving through the crack in the door! Dog noses immediately in the laundry room where the bag of kangaroo is! Dog noses racing down the hallway, dragging dog bodies along to the food bowl! Dog heads up to their necks in the food bowl! Dog tongues touching old food non-Australian chicken pellets 80% of the time and flipping them against the walls and doors! Plink! Snorffle! In less than a minute all the kangaroo pellets were in the dogs and all the native chicken pellets were scattered in the hallway.

    Doug immediately stopped chewing on himself and his skin has cleared up.

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  • Dogs and Butter

    Last fall, Mac and Doug were in the Living room admiring the new footstool.
    Mac said, “I must say, I admire the Furless One’s taste. That is a fine article of furniture.”
    “Mmmm,” Doug said, “Real quality. You can tell it’s built to last.”
    “What’s it used for? Does it have a purpose?” Mac wondered aloud.
    “I saw the large one put his feet on it,” Doug said.
    “Perhaps we could put our feet on it as well. Do you think they’d mind?” Mac inquired politely.
    “They’re in the other room. Don’t bother them. I’m sure it would be fine,” Doug answered confidently, “Here, I’ll go first.”

    (Doug jumps on footstool.)

    “Hmm,” Doug said, “Interesting height. Not as high as the other seating areas they bought for us. I could walk right across to this table — why, someone left an entire stick of butter here.”

    And with that Doug and the butter were gone. All we found 5 minutes later was Mac licking the butter wrapper that Doug discarded.

    Then, 2 hours later, the butter hit Douglas hard and he began to vomit, so Mac got some of the butter then, shall we say. In fact, Doug was polite enough to vomit in the bedroom while we were in the living room, Mac found it, and decided to clean it up. Not only did he clean up the vomit, he licked the carpet clean, and then he ate the carpet down to the mat, it was soooo tasty.

    Doug got sick enough that I called Animal Poison Control and they said that was a serious amount of sodium for a small dog and his kidneys might fail, so Gary had to stay up all night and watch the dogs.

    Anyway, everyone is fine and we have a hole in the carpet. Also, the S_____s have been warned about the dangers of giving salted food to dogs. Gary anticipates his parents will stop salting their food entirely.

    Actually, I’m concerned the vet will think I have Munchusen’s Syndrome by Proxy and am inflicting illness in my dogs to gain sympathy.

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