Kicking Some Grass

We have officially been homeowners for almost 5 months. That's enough time to have assimilated into the culture of high utility bills and any discussions, ergo arguments, that can happen as a result thereof.

Homeownership is a grand, grand thing. There is this satisfaction each time one of us pulls into our garage that this place is ours, or will be ours in 350 some-odd more payments.

Within the confines of homeownership, we have found one area in which I, as the principle, or CEO of this franchise (family, that is), can express my competitive juices.

Yardwork.

Men and competition have a rich history. Heck, some say the first pissing contest between two men goes all th way back to Cain & Abel in Biblical times. Spoiler alert--Cain won.

As I mull through the downside of my 20's and closer towards 30sdom, its increasingly apparent to me that I must find ways to compete.

While others my age are competing in their various forums:

- Eli Manning, Quarterback of NY Giants
- Jason Richardson, Charlotte Bobcats
- Elijah Wood, Actor, Musician & Notable Hobbit
- Paris Hilton, Heiress & Socialite

I have found my forum for this chapter of my life, and it's the yard.

Just look at those beautiful blades of St. Augustine that line that sweet gray sidewalk. It's a thing of Turffy Love.

Mowing isn't a chore--it's an event.

I dawn my uniform (usually a Live Free or Die Hard 'beater', pair of athletic shorts, fake crocs, trucker hat turned back), apply eye-black, set the Ipod to something that get's the adrenaline pumping (like Journey's Don't Stop Believing on repeat) and slowly apply OFF to prevent the onslaught of mosquitos.

As I roll my machine out to the starting point, I imagine a PA Announcer with a booming voice: "At 5'8", 165, hailing from the hallows of sweet- sweet-Sweetwater, TX... out of Baylor University... your mower, edger, blower, sweeper, and currently ranked 3rd in the Associated Press Under-30 World Yardwork Power Rankings..."

Then I fire it up. And with a gleam in my eye and a snarl on my lips, I mow. With the care of an artist creating a masterpiece, I weave back and forth.

Then, with passion and calm determination, I edge. Then the blower comes out. And I clean my work area. It's a matter of pride.

And when its done and my tools are in their rightful place, I sigh, wipe my brow (typically rip one since its my yard and I do what I want in it) and nod.

"It is good," I proclaim with arms stretched, normally evoking some sort of jibberish from my older Asian neighbor.

I understand a few things about this. I understand that while I am currently ranked 3rd in the AP U30WYPR, there are only 5 competitors registered. But I'm still 3rd, and closing on #2. Soon--with the help of some HGH (Hallowed Grass Helper), also known as fertilizer, I will reach the top spot.

I also know that this adds a cool 15 years to my social life. Others in their mid-20s are hitting the local night scene... attending concerts and getting 'inked.' To that I say, I'm married, I like jazz music, I have a Letterman sense of humor and I enjoy tweed coats--I have no 'real' social life.

And finally, I know the pressure this early success adds to my very young professional Landscapial career. Anytime a player or coach comes onto the scene with the mastery of a grizzled champion there is pressure. I take it one mow at a time--never looking ahead to next spring or summer (vaguely spoken like a true professional, no?).