Yard work as a performance art.

I really enjoy yard work.

I know, insanity.

I  also really enjoy country music.

Again, insanity.

When I can combine the two, it's a little slice of Heaven.

Also, for some reason, every single time I head outside to mow, my neighbor - not the bitchy one, another one - a guy I don't really know, 'cause he's pretty new to the street, decides to mow his grass, too.  Immediately after I start.  Every single time.

The importance of all of these seemingly unrelated things will become clear in a minute.

Last week when I went out to mow, iPod in hand, I was joined quickly by my neighbor guy, who just decided, right then, to mow his yard, too.

Whatever.  I'm a trendsetter.

We did our usual nod/smile/kinda-wave-with-half-your-hand thing, then I hopped on the mower, cranked up the iPod, threw in the earbuds, and started to mow.

I did my usual 'round the house pattern, which was matched in a mirror image by my neighbor guy.  His yard isn't quite as big as mine, but I was going faster, so pretty much every time I was at the front of my house, so was neighbor guy, but going in the opposite direction.  At this point, I...  HEY!  I LOVE THIS SONG!

*Singing at top of lungs*


I said the night you left me,
Nothin' worse could ever happen,
But seeing you with someone else proved that I was wrong.
And when your eyes met mine,
I knew that you were gone forever,
Along with all the reasons , I had for hanging on. 


Waving at neighbor guy.  Wonder why he's going so slow?

I always thought that someday,
We might get back together.
I just thought you needed time to spread your wings and fly.
But when I saw the lovin' way,
You held onto each other,
It was all that I could do, not to break right down and cry.


 Hmmm... He's totally stopped now.  Hope he's not having trouble with his mower...


I'd be better off in a pine box,
On a slow train back to Georgia,
Or in the grey walls of a prison doing time.
I think I'd rather die,
And go to hell and face the devil,
Than to lie here with you and him together on my mind.


It must not be trouble with his mower, because he's laughing.  Hey!  I think he's laughing at me.  OH SHIT!  He can hear me.

Um.. what to do?  Do I play it off as cool, and keep going, or do I stop and address this and be done with it?  What would Chuck Norris do?

 So I stopped.

At this point, he's at a full-blown, rolling on the ground belly laugh, the likes of which I haven't seen since watching Talladega Nights while consuming two bottles of wine and a six pack of Miller Light.  "oh we, we go together like cocaine and waffles." "... absolutely ma-am, I would love to sign your baby ..."  

Anyway, back to the story here.  Focus, people.

Me: "Uh, hi.  I guess you heard me singing, huh?"  I'm super cool when I've been caught acting like a crazy person.

Neighbor Guy: "Yep.  It's ok, though.  I like country music." *wipes tears of laughter from eyes with hem of t-shirt, exposing large round flabby white belly* "That's Johnny Cash, right?"

Me: *Uncomfortable laughter* "Actually, it's Doug Stone."  And clearly you don't know ANYTHING about country music, so stop pretending you do.  Poser.  You are now dead to me.  Ptuah.  "Well, I guess I'd better finish this up.  Have a good one."   Loser. 


So I hopped back up on my mower, cranked it up, and popped my earbuds back in my ears.  Next up, Deana Carter.

*Singing at top of lungs*

He was working through college on my grandpa's farm 
I was thirsting for for knowledge and he had a car 
I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child 
When one restless summer we found love growing wild 
On the banks of the river on a well beaten path 
Funny how those memories they last 

I still remember when thirty was old 
My biggest fear was September when he had to go 
A few cards and letters and one long distance call 
We drifted away like the leaves in the fall 
But year after year I come back to this place 
Just to remember the taste 

The fields have grown over now 
Years since they've seen a plow 
There's nothing time hasn't touched 
Is it really him or the loss of my innocence 
I've been missing so much 

Like strawberry wine and seventeen 
The hot July moon saw everything 
My first taste of love oh bittersweet 
Green on the vine 
Like strawberry wine 



Take THAT neighbor guy.

The asshole probably thinks it's Dolly Parton anyway.