It's just a yard maintenance blog now

First, a quick addendum to yesterday's edger saga. When I offered to mow in the back, Dan was again hesitant, suggesting that he was better dealing with the tall grass, and I was all, "I've mowed grass before dude, come on," and now the lawn mower is broken, the end.

Anyway, we tried to get a jump on things outside this morning by sticking Anna in her baby cage on the patio while it was still shady. I guess she must have inherited some sort of dormant-in-both-of-us propensity for industriousness, because if there's one thing she hates in this world it is sitting still and playing with toys. The baby cage looks like a pretty fun place to me, but when we put her in there it's all wailing and clinking her tiny tin water cup across the bars. I don't know why we even gave her that thing.

The Pit of Despair.

The only way to get around her need for perpetual motion is for someone else to be exerting a lot of effort on her behalf. She will not tolerate being held by a person in a sitting or remotely relaxed position. The holder must be standing, preferably walking, or even better, doing deep lunges. Ideally, you would do this, balance her on your legs, and scoot around using your shoulders. I actually think that would make her very happy. Today she abided simply adding her 20+ pounds to my frequent bending and standing, so I think I got off pretty easy there.

This is how the pilgrims did their landscaping.

At any rate, it's getting to a point where it looks like respectable humans are responsible for our property rather than drunk raccoons. Win!

1 comment:

  1. Boooooo responsibility. I would rather party with the drunk racoons.