Obli Di, Obli Da, Life Goes On, Turn, Turn, Turn, The Times They Are A-Changin', Breaking Up Is Hard To Do, Na-Na Hey-Hey Kiss Him Goodbye, or Torn Between Two Mowers

I thought I'd try and go for the longest blog title, if not the one with the most commas.

For those of you who came into Betland later than Opening Day, I live at the Poderosa. It's small, but it's home, it's my cherished place. It's my Cone of Silence, though it's rarely silent around here.

Even though I've only owned the Pod for 4 ½ years, it has a long and storied history. I've had an influx of ladybugs, which I grew to love but they don't come around anymore (maybe they're still afraid I'll take them for a "swim" in the flushing toilet), an influx of bees (they're still coming, even if they're not welcome here), a broken and leaking hot water heater, a couple of scares with the heat pump, raised roof nails, a broken sink pipe, and now I'm facing the whole shower wall debacle. But don't get me wrong; I still love the Poderosa.

I've also had, well, not in that way, let me make that perfectly clear, Mowing Boy.

Ahhh, Mowing Boy. Brave, valiant, and stalwart Mowing Boy. I scared him the very first day when he knocked upon my door to ask if he could keep mowing for me like he did the previous owner. I was so excited to have someone mow for me that I practically jumped into his arms with an enthusiastic "YES!" I scared him even more when I came to the door to pay him one day donning nothing but a towel. He scared himself - twice - when he, upon seeing an open front door, opened the screen door and walked right into my house, realizing he didn't live there, nor had he knocked, and that probably wasn't a very polite thing to do. (Mowing Boy was very polite.) I laughed though, mainly at the distressed look on his face both times it happened. He scared me the day he announced to me that Mr Snake had taken up residence in my back yard. He cut down the clothes line that I hated, even though it left two unattached crosses in my backyard, which is kind of scary, and he burned out a hornet's nest for me once. I loved Mowing Boy.

But sadly, Mowing Boy graduated from high school and left for the navy. I still see him sometimes, though, and always greet him with a hearty, "Mowing Boy!" and once even with a hug.

I then inherited, I suppose, the next best thing to Mowing Boy. That would be Mowing Dad, Mowing Boy's own father, who took over some of his yards after MB's retirement.

And Mowing Dad was fine. Did his job, saw me in my pajamas once or twice, which isn't such a big deal as my pajamas cover me from neck to feet, and only knocked one time. By that I mean one knock, and if I wasn't at the door to pay him, he just went home and assumed I'd remember to do it at another time. He figured if I didn't come immediately I was busy, and he wouldn't bother me by continuing to knock. And you have to respect that.

However, at the beginning of the summer, Mowing Dad told me this would be his last mowing period for me. He has a "regular" job, and an elderly mother, and it was all getting to be more time-consuming than he'd like, and so he was, pardon the pun, weeding out his customers. He dropped some but kept me and a few others, because we'd been good clients.

Then on about Mowing Dad's second mow of the season, he told me he was really trying to get out of the Mowing Biz, and that if I knew of anyone else I'd like to have as a mower, by all means to hire them, that he'd gladly relinquish his title. I said OK, but didn't think much about it afterwards, I was more worried about who I'd corral to mow next summer. But then a couple of weeks ago my dear nephew, Taytie, asked if he could mow for me, and I started considering letting Mowing Dad go.

This was, of course, after a fair amount of grilling of my dear nephew. Would he mow on a regular basis, and not just when his car's gas tank was low and his wallet was empty? Would he trim and be neat, and not just half-ass his way through things because I'm his aunt and I love him and I'm a massive pushover where he's concerned? And most importantly, would he mow for the same $20 Mowing Boy and Mowing Dad were always happy to receive? His answer to all was an enthusiastic, "Um, OK," and so TayMac got the job. Even though I warned him he had very big Mowing Shoes to fill.

And so came that fateful day last week when I had to call and tell Mowing Dad he wouldn't be my Mowing Dad anymore. I've never removed anyone from their position, and I'm all shy and backwards and chickenshit about such things, even though MD told me he didn't really want the job this summer anyway. But I did it. Called him up and asked if he remembered telling me if I could find someone else to mow by all means hire them, and, well, that had kind of happened, and it was my dear nephew, who he knows anyway, Tay is friends with Mowing Boy, and would it please be OK and if it wasn't that was OK too, really, he could keep it if he wanted, I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings here, oh, why don't you just keep mowing. Yeah, it went something like that.

But Mowing Dad said it was fine, to let Taytie go ahead and mow. Even though he didn't sound overly happy about the whole situation and I got a massive case of the guilts when I hung up the phone. Or maybe that was just me, I don't know.

My dear nephew's first Mow was Friday. And a fine mow it was. Neat and tidy, and he was very concerned that I'd liked what he'd done, he called me up afterwards to make sure I was happy with it. And when I told him I was, he was happy, too, and then went on to tell me his "mowing methods" and how hard he'd tried to make it look like a professional job. So I guess all is well in the Mowing Department here at the Poderosa.

Thing is, apparently my dear nephew has some initiative. Seems that after he mowed my yard and got some positive feedback, he called up Mowing Dad himself and asked about those other customers he was weeding out. And if he could possibly, if MD was ready to let them go, have them as well. And you know, Tay is big in the Mock Government Association, was elected student Speaker of the House for the entire state of Virginia, and I guess his debating and persuading skills are top-notch. Because yesterday afternoon, Mowing Nephew met with Mowing Dad to learn the locations of all the yards he was inheriting.

Yes, my dear nephew is now Mowing Boy, not only mine, but a handfull of others' as well. Somehow, it's a fitting line of succession.

I can only hope that in all those new yardowners he gets a person like me. One who'll scream out enthusiastically and scare him. One who'll leave the door open and laugh when he walks in unannounced. One who'll hold him in the highest esteem and write odes about him in her blog. One who'll look at him as if to say, "My hero!" when he chases away a snake or burns out a hornet.

But not one who comes to the door wearing only a towel. If that happens, I don't even want to know.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners. So, if you are what you eat, what the hell are you?
- Honorable mention goes to Stennie with her "Rotten Liver," and Krizzer with her "Racka Lamb." Wouldn't Racka Lamb be a great stage name for a punk band frontman?
- Runner-up goes to Mike with his "Roasted Lint," and Michelle with her "Roasted Lard." Fine things to roast.
- And this week's winner goes to Jellybean with her "Random Lickables." I'm coming to your house, 'Bean.
- Thanks to all who played - you've all done very well!