"Watch your heads, and sit down over there," said Grandma, motioning to a large trunk beneath the musty slants of the attic eaves. And then the storytelling began....

Antiques were folded into dusty boxes around us, their significance left unlabelled but for Grandma's remembering tales. I listened to the stories of my ancestors from the keepers of their treasures in that damp, dark haven where history and the future came together. And during those childhood hours in the attic, I would hear my calling—the.eternal quest for stories told and untold. I answer it still.
Musty smells and mothballs will take me there again, sitting on a box in my memory, enraptured. I hear knockin' on the attic as voices in my head—whispery phrases that need a turn, stories aching to be told, or simply memories wanting another moment of my time. When I hear that knockin', I know there's a voice to be heard and a story to be told. So, be careful on the ladder, watch your head on that beam, and have a seat on that trunk over there. Lean in, for I have some tales to share...

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Wednesday, June 4, 2014

She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy

Alright, gentlemen, the game’s up. I’m on to you. After years…years...of asking my husband to show me how to drive the lawn tractor so I could sometimes help him with the dreadful yard work, he finally showed me this morning. My first clue that something was amiss was when it took him exactly 93 seconds to tell me how everything worked. The rest became abundantly clear to me as I rode around my 2+ acres of yard, jamming to tunes on my iPod, soaking up the sunshine, smelling the sweet scent of newly mown grass, and oblivious to the rest of the world as I made straight line and circle patterns all around my property.

Mowing the yard is FUN!

It’s relaxing. It’s soothing. And with just a smidgen of imagination, you can pretend you’re driving a big Massey tractor, or a combine (which are both infinitely cooler and even more fun!!) and that you're tilling up the land. Yup, I get it. The tractor's sexy. And it just got a whole helluva lot sexier.  

Mr. French Charming? You got some s’plaining to do.

But since now I know the gig and have been so rude as to share it with the rest of the unsuspecting wives out there that are feeling guilty for their men working so hard on those tractors, I’ll be gracious enough to share one of our feminine secrets with you.

You know when we bitch and complain about how hard evenings are…dealing with dinner and dishes, tomorrow’s lunches, helping the kids with their various homework projects and sorting through the massive mountains of paperwork sent from school, making sure the kids get bathed, refereeing their arguments, and yelling at them to get them to go to bed (and stay there)…all while fencing calls from your mother (father/brother/buddy)? Know how we complain about how exhausted we are and couldn’t possibly do another load of laundry, empty the dishwasher, or have sex?

The truth is, we actually LOVE our evenings when you’re out of the house doing man-stuff. We really enjoy helping our kids reach their highest potential so they can succeed in life, keeping open communication with the teachers that adore our input in our children’s education and how they could better help our kids. What we’re really doing is playing with the kids…you know, trying to get a firm grasp of the wonderful world of Minecraft, watching Dora and Diego, learning about shapes and riddles…in Spanish…and giggling as we make Barbie and Ken change clothes and kiss each other. Our lovely children really do skip off to the tub and then to bed, singing happy clean-up songs without a word of protest because they’re such well-behaved children (obviously due to your fabulous discipline, honey! Thanks for doing that Loud-Man-Voice thing that really gets their attention…it totally helps when we need to them to do something for us and you’re outside doing man-stuff). And how else would we know that your dad put up 500 posters with your uncle for your cousin’s campaign, that the hitch parts he ordered for our car are the wrong ones so the installation appointment has been changed again, that it’s your turn to bring beer for after your ballgame, that your monthly fishing and hunting meeting is tomorrow night in the mancave/shack, and let you know your buddy is making wings for the hockey game you’re watching at his house, if we didn’t get the opportunity to chat with your mom (father/brother/buddy)? The truth is, we love the chance to talk to your mother (father/brother/buddy), plus we need our own special relaxing, soothing time to do our lady-stuff.

So, to be fair, I want to make a proposition. Let’s trade chores for a bit. I know how left out you feel, missing out on all of the prime bonding time with the kids. I know how you feel like you really don’t know what’s going on with the kids’ lives and school activities (I am so sorry I forgot to tell you about that choir concert/bake sale we had to go to last Thursday night…I know it was quite a shock when you’d planned on mowing the lawn before the rain came.). I understand you have a real passion for cooking and that watching Master Chef is so inspiring for you…if only you had the time to embrace your love of creating delicious, healthy meals. I don’t want to be greedy or selfish anymore. That’s been very unkind of me. I want you to have the opportunities I am granted each night, and every weekend: time to enjoy your children, relax with a good show, tinker around the kitchen with those spices you bought and the fresh veggies from the enormous garden you put in (seriously, we could open a veggie stand to sell all of those lovely organic foods you have worked so hard to nurture and grow, but that our 5 appetites can’t possibly eat enough of!). So, I would love to take over that horrible lawn mowing nonsense you’ve put up with for years and years. You’ve given us so much of yourself and your time, taking care of your family…providing a beautiful yard and sumptuous garden to feed us. I want to let you enjoy some of the things us women have secretly coveted for years. So, you sit down, put up your feet, and negotiate Netflix choices with your children while I go mow the lawn.

But before you get comfy, dear, can you grab me a beer…hell, make it two, all those acres are gonna take awhile to get ‘er done…while I go fire up the tractor?!

What do you mean, why am I wearing my bikini? I just don’t want to get anymore clothes dirty with all of that grass…I wouldn't want to add to your laundry pile. I want you rested and in a good mood so when I get done and come in, I can take advantage of you. Heehee...wink, wink (slap on the ass).

You don’t have to thank me, luv. I just want to help. You’ve earned an evening without yard chores. You and the kids have fun...

I got this.

1 comment:

Nancy Free said...

Hilarious! Awesome. I have such a visual on that. I can relate! LOL.