A First

Today, I mowed the lawn for the first time ever.
Yes, yes. I'm thirty-three and two days old and I've never mowed a lawn. You might be wondering what kind of priveleged princess I've been all these years. Allow me to defend myself.

Growing up Cooper meant having a brother seven years my senior. When the time came that he was old enough to be trusted with a lawn mower, I was still a little kid. So Aaron had the job of mowing the lawn for years.

At our first Folsom house, we lived on a lot that was almost half an acre. Huge front lawn, huge back lawn. Also, huge hill. Mom and Dad hired a couple of professional guys for many years, especially once Aaron and I had flown the nest.

So all those years and there was never any need for me to even know what a lawn mower was (though I did, indeed, know what it was. I just never used it).

As an adult, even when I've lived at home, the lawn mowing was either something that Dad was happy to do, or we had a gardner come by once a week. Living in endless apartments, I haven't even had a lawn to worry about. So here we are, in my thirty-third year, and today marks the first time I ever mowed a lawn. Granted, it's a postage stamp-sized piece of lawn in Mom and Dad's backyard (the front yard is all natural landscaping--no grass). Dad has an electric mower, so the hardest part was keeping the extension cord out of the way. It took me all of fifteen minutes, going over the lawn twice so as not to miss any spots. Frankly, it's as easy as vacuuming, which is one of my favorite household chores. (And that little quirk is another story for another blog post.)

Even Dad said it looks pretty good.

At the end of September, Mom and Dad are going on a three-week cruise of Italy, Greece and Turkey, so the lawn care will be on me. I can handle it!