The Great Rototiller Escapade and Other Weekend Activities

Rototilling = ow

LunarGeography has had this gardening thang going for quite a while and this past weekend she wanted to up and rent a rototiller to chew up her lawn. And mine, as I was very easily convinced to put in a real garden out in the far back. Hey, I had pumpkins a sprouting and square foot gardening just don’t cater to pumpkins. Ergo, garden!

I was all for a little lawn chewing too because really, rototilling the beegeebus out of the grass beats pulling the sod up by hand any day. That is if you can rototill. Which I can’t, as we found out. Or rather, I *can* rototill but someone has to have already broken the ground beforehand in order for me to do my rototilling thing. Which…really isn’t the point of a rear tine big assed rototiller. Of doom. But! As it turns out, LunarGeography can break ground with a rototiller (and not into a fence or skipping merrily along the lawn while popping wheelies) like nobody’s business but she can’t seem to drive a straight line once the ground has been broken. Thus, we made a perfect team Saturday when we decided to put in three gardens and chew up the lawn on the side of LunarGeography’s house so she could regrade it.

First, however, I had to get up at 7:15 on a Saturday in order to get us to the rental place by 8. Ow. We stopped for fru-fru coffee, naturally, and that got us through four hours of muscle straining lawn killing. I tell you, rototilling is hard work! After stopping off at the rental place to return the rototiller, we decided to pick up some plant goodies as Home Depot and Coleman’s were right on the way. What??!? We needed dirt supplies to mix into our newly tilled garden areas and plants! Then, instead of taking a nap, I planted the roses I picked up and a couple other little plant fellas to finish off (mostly) the runner gardens. Huzzah!

The funny thing about being outside most of the morning is that the sun is also out for most of the morning. Usually. I did have my snappy hat on whilst garden puttering so my ears, head and face were well protected but my arms…well someone’s brain didn’t engage fully and it wasn’t until I was in the shower afterwards that I noticed my vibrantly red arms. Yeah. At least I kept everyone around me warm during the evening’s movie and dinner festivities.

BTW; Spiderman 3 is a good watch but there is just too much going on in that movie for it to qualify as great. They had three villains boogering around vying for screen time and any one of them could have easily had their own movie. Which they didn’t so it was all bing-bang rushed. They also had a couple glaring retcon moments which were vastly disappointing but the fight scenes were wiked cool. Plus, James Cromwell shows up as the police chief and Bruce Campbell has an awesome French waiter bit which is worth seeing.

The next morning every single muscle that was even remotely involved in rototilling or next to a muscle that rototilled let me know how much they did not appreciate me abusing their poor couch potato selves. Ow. I did no gardening and barely did any Warcrafting (did you know that some of the same muscles that one uses to rototill one also uses to play Warcraft?) and took a nice long nap. Apparently, napping uses no rototilling muscles.

Sunday evening we had us a second movie night (that couldn’t be beat) where we grilled us up some burgers (yum) and mixed up some Brandy Alexanders (double yum and also anesthetizing). Badmovie, LunarGeograpy, Bubbles, TheMan and I sat down to watch, in their entirety, The Guns of El Chupacabra and Star Crash because I wanted to see all of Guns and they insisted that I had to see all of Star Crash. It’s a classic, or something.

Anyway, that was my weekend in a nutshell. Oh, and also?


Last year at the booniverse: ow.

Last last year at the booniverse: Updating muscles sympathizing with rototilling muscles.

The year before at the booniverse: Try to figure out what cat toy or object that is being pressed into cat toy service would sound like the front door. Listen for a moment and wonder if the missing cat(s) have suddenly evolved thumbs and have learned to open the door.

The year before that at the booniverse: OK, bugs and sliced toast should never occupy the same sentence, that’s just wrong.

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