Another attempt on my life.

Seriously with all the people trying to off me these days, you would think that I am Pablo Escobar. (A little side note, Catherine has told me that his ranch or his relative purchased cattle from the ranch in the 80’s but she gets rather skittish when I ask her about the details.) What’s that you say? You didn’t hear how Catherine tried to kill me? Oh, well here, check this out. And try not to get so behind on your blog readings, will you?

Now to the most recent assassination attempt. As many of you know, Spring is peeking its head around the corner. It is still a little cool in the morning but in the afternoon it is just peachy. With the warmer temps, the grass has started to grow. Well actually weeds but since I almost failed (because I never went to class, not because I have a brain the size of a peanut) Rangeland Management I don’t think that I will be going into specifics. Let’s just say the yard looked like a jungle.

So after taking the Snapper to the doctor and getting him all ready to go, I set out down the ditch beside the house mowing down the waist high weeds/grass/green stuff. The wild onions about killed me and made my eyes water so bad that I was driving like I already sucked down a whole keg of Keystone Light. I mean people are driving by and probably thinking to themselves that the poor guy on the lawnmower is having a seizure. Or this time they might of thought “Holy Crap, that lawnmower is on fire!!!”

Huh! What? My lawnmower is on fire??!!

I started to smell something like burning like rubber or plastic. I looked behind me and just look at what I pulled out from underneath the muffler.



Some blubbering, incompetent ignoramus left an oil soaked towel underneath the muffler on MY SNAPPER! Which with the heat of the muffler caught fire and had it not been detected would have made a mushroom cloud erupt over the town of Iago with me right in the middle of it. Seriously I think I need to hire some security to follow me around. Who knows what will happen next.

Oh I know what will happen next, it is time to mow the cliff that is right in front of our house. So I tell Catherine, who I have started to call Widget, to come out and take my picture risking my life so her yard looks like a golf course. Widget happily obliges and comes out with the camera.



I try to make the most of mowing, because I really don’t like but three aspects of mowing.

1) I get to smash the mess outta fire ant hills and watch them fling out of the mower blades in a cloud of dust. Then I make a mad scientist laugh and head to the next ant village and announce my arrival with “Fee Fi Fo Fum.” I hate those stupid little maggots.

2) I get to make a Vroom Vroom noise when I come back up the hill and also make this stupid face.



3) I get to run over stuff and chop it into smithereens. By the way, whoever threw out the dirty baby diaper in our ditch, I hate your stinkin' guts!!

I think the reason that Widget came outside was because she wanted to play grounds keeper too and drive the Snapper. So I got to take her picture too.



You may notice the angle of this picture. I was laying on the ground taking this picture because that is the “Do-anything-to-get-the-shot” photographer that I am.



But the problem was when I got down in the fresh cut grass it decided to stick to my arm and turn me into Gumby.

We also went down to the in-laws to see what they were up to. Catherine’s mom was mowing too. When we got there she decided that she needed to refuel the mower, she also has a Snapper. It is really fun to call things by their brand name. Like “Hey Widget, go put my jeans in the Maytag,” or “Hey Widget, go fire up the Dell so I can entertain the masses with a new blog!” Anyhoo, we got a picture of Luann trying to get the lid off the gas tank of her Snapper.



As you can see it was a good thing her knight in shining armor showed up to unscrew the lid. Maybe not a good thing that he showed up with a camera, but I won’t tell her if you don’t.



And then she was off, out through the pasture to the entrance to their house and mow around the crepe myrtles.

Finally, this weekend is the WHR Shorthorn Sale where we have about 10 heifers consigned. Hopefully we can sell ‘em high and buy ‘em cheap.

And I leave you with this.



Buttons decided that we were not the only ones who should be allowed to have our fun on the Snapper. He hopped on as soon as I got off and layed in the sun for a few minutes before he went and started weedeating.