I needed an Island Get-Away

Friday afternoon I came home thinking all was going to be OK. I had promised to help cleanup the neighborhood entrance... I need to stop volunteering... So this is a semi-true recount of Saturday morning before I realized Mel was actually worse.

My Island Get Away

I had promised to cut down some old shrubs at one of the entrances to our neighborhood. There is an island with some 30-year-old shrubs that have gone past their good years, and the Garden Club/Landscape Committee/BOD has chosen to replace them during the current exceptional drought. This story is partially made up… a get away for me.

It was supposed to be a “Man Day” today. Up at 6:30 AM today. Out the door with my homemade grande nonfat sugar-free vanilla no-foam latte and my chainsaw at 7AM... this is a suburban version of "Man Day". Got in my white truck… used to call it the “White Rocket”… now I think I need to call it “Old Yeller”… since it has never been in the garage in it’s 6 years. So, I get in my truck and drive 30 yards to Sonny’s house. He walks out with his bottle of water (wimp), and chainsaw. But, it is plain to see he is trying to out man me today… it’s his gloves… got holes in them… mine are just sweat stained. Grumbling I crank up my V8 and whip around the corner… go another 30 yards or so… and then park. We get out and … dang… he has one up’d me again… I put my gloves on, and he just stuck his in his back pocket… he's cool.

As we walk up to the island, we are both eager to get started. We are going to make some major noise at 7 AM on Saturday morning. We begin to start our chainsaws… I have studied up on mine… Imagine a guy actually reading the instructions! My chainsaw starts right up and I go at it. The stress of the week is flying away. The machine is sounding good as I rev it up and look over at Sonny… he is red faced and still trying to start his… I have taken the lead on "Man Day".

I cut close to the ground and try not to get my blade in the dirt… I am leaving a little stub every now and then… I look over and Sonny has his blade deep in the dirt… rocks, dirt and sparks are flying. So I do the same… in the end we have cut about the same amount of shrubs… and it is time for new chains on our chain saws... but it was worth it.

We have both noticed a few neighborhood chicks walk by and admire our chain saws, but we don’t notice them… because we are old... believe that? We do notice the guys that look at our chain saws… we grin and purposely gun the engines as they go by. That is when Sonny’s pulls the ultimate insult. He says his truck can hold more than my truck, since mine has the sissy camper shell. I act insulted, but I acquiesce… I really didn’t want to tear the screens on my camper shell… like I will ever camp out in it! We are loading his truck with shrubs when 3 police cars fly by us. We are both immediately thinking, why do we live in this neighborhood… must be a big crime. We grumble a little more about that (after all we are grumpy old men and we have to keep our image up).

We head off to the dump with the windows down… Sonny asked me if I wanted the air conditioning on… no way… this is “Man Day”! I don't disclose that Sonny's old truck is perfect for "Man Day"... it has "farm" license plates. We arrive at the dump where is a big line of trucks… we have arrived before the dump opened… cool… we are real men today. We look up and there is some smart alec lady in front of us, in her sparkling new Toyota… car… she is ruining our image of "man day"… she later pulls out a box and puts some free the mulch in it… she actually hand picks her mulch out of a pile as large as Rhode Island. That is good for a man laugh.

We have to stop for gas on the way back… I look at Sonny and say, “There was more gas inside the truck than there was in the tank!”… He quickly responds with “That’s why the windows were down!” Later we pull into the neighborhood and a police car stops us… we are thinking there must be a murder, as we come to a stop. Nope… just a naked drunk man… walking the neighborhood… with devilish grins we quickly go through our mental list of old buddies in the neighborhood… none of our friends fit the description... That’s good for another man laugh… the cop doesn’t think it is funny… he says the walker is 13 years old and needs help. A silver BMW pulls up next to us… we have seen that car numerous times today… it is a lady looking for her 13 year old son…

Man Day is over quickly… we are now just a couple of grumpy old jerks.

Then with eyes sparkling, and big grins, we point at each other and say, in unison… “That will be YOU next year!” “Har Har Har”…

Sorry... but I needed a "Man Day"...

Note to self... Get a lock for the liquor cabinet...