Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Tuesday, May 28, 2002 I got yet another reason to be proud of Trash recently. Last week, my fellow Damn Hell Ass King Uncle Bob launched a new website called Suck Ass Poems. You should go there and post one. My wife did. And hers earned her a special shout-out from Uncle Bob himself. Don’t go crying foul—just because Uncle Bob and I share a few readers doesn’t mean we’ve ever met or spoken or exchanged e-mails (yet), and I don’t think that would guarantee special treatment anyway. No, that wife of mine made it on pure talent. See for yourself. * * * Speaking of pure talent, I’m in the midst of a project that’s going to call upon all my skills over the next few weeks. I’m going to have to become an expert in necromancy and the black arts on a par with Willow Rosenberg if I’m going to pull this off without going mad. I’m going to bring my back lawn back from the dead. We killed our lawn years ago. We built a deck in the back yard over the summer. Somehow, the grass didn’t take too kindly to spending the summer months buried under yards of lumber and all the dirt we displaced when we dug holes for eleven footings (which, in accordance with city building codes, now contain more buried concrete than the NORAD complex under Cheyenne Mountain). Never mind all the stomping around in work boots. Plus there’s the large maple tree which gives so much shade that it’s like permanent nuclear winter back there. Needless to say, our grass died a slow, painful death. Sometimes, very late, when the night was completely still, we could hear it screaming. Now our back yard is an expanse of black hardpan like the side of an adobe house, a cracked, barren moonscape where nothing can grow but soul-numbing dread. There’s still a fringe of grass along one edge that I have to mow a couple of times every summer. And in late June, we do get a little green when the weeds take over. Mown weeds don’t look quite as nice as mown grass, so this year I’ve decided to do something about it. Casting aside monetary concerns, I splurged and dropped twelve dollars on a bag of grass seed. Two days ago, I cleared some of the sticks, leaves, and acorn shells off the yard and scattered the seeds across the unwelcoming brick-like soil. I gently raked the area so the seeds would mix with the millmeter of gray dust I’d managed to scrape loose from the surface. And I’ve watered it twice a day ever since. So far, nothing. But at least the seeds haven’t blown away yet. The next couple of weeks are going to be the real test. I’m going to have to get out there and water the lawn every morning before I go to work. This is going to be a severe departure from my usual morning routine, which normally calls for me to be at my desk within ten minutes of my last REM. But when I see that trampled-down mud start to sprout with its first sparse patches of greenish peachfuzz, it’s going to be all worth it. It always is. Then, by neglect or incompetence, I kill it again. I’m just hoping that if I fail this time, the weeds won’t take the summer off. I’m going to need some ground cover back there. posted by M. Giant 1:33 PM 0 comments 0 Comments:
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