Vacuum The Lawn

Dave brought home an interesting item. An electric lawnmower, complete with long bright high-contrast orange power cord, that had been clipped and spliced with black tape in three places.

How can this be, you ask?

Simple.

It's the difference in the sexes.

Or at least, their habitual household roles.

The lady of the house is quite used to operating an electric appliance that tidies up what's underfoot. Said item underfoot is a floor, and said appliance is a vacuum cleaner. Notice that said appliance has a cord, and that the lady of the house is quite used to throwing it like a lasso, to get it out of the way of the duty at hand.

The lad of the house is not used to such a skilled activity. Count on it.

So when such lad hits the lawn with an electrified mower featuring a high-speed rotating blade, this lad may fall inattentive, especially if said lawn is of any size larger than, well, anything.

Guys just aren't used to vacuuming, which involves a powered appliance leashed to 110 volts of angry little electrons, or displaying similar skills involving an outdoor surface underfoot.

Combine that with the rotating slicing sharpened-at-both-ends blade, and you have this figured out already.

Guys, if you're going green with the lawn care, do yourself a favor and take a home economics course first, or practice by slurping up dirt from the living room floor a few times until you can handle major league pitching, which is longer, larger, and involving whirling weaponry.

In short, learn to vacuum the lawn.

And Now They Are Legends

A month back I was on a business call to Atlanta. The rep was not only glad to speak with someone who acted like a human being, he was excited to hear I was from the Boston region. He grew up fifteen minutes from Kevin Garnett, and while in college, interviewed Ray Allen.

"Do you think the Celtics will win it all?" he asked.

I told him that my prediction was no matter. I will support them and cheer for them through thick and especially thin because they are good people.

And now they are legends.

The Yankees Have Cooties

Even their fans are agreeing. And why their fans have any qualm about their HOF-to-be third baseman is beyond my understanding. How about being actual fans, through thick and especially thin?
Guess what. There is a bunch of them. The Bleacher Creatures. They support their boys. They know what it takes to get onto that field in a striped uni and take the flame from the disloyal, the fashion-slaves, and the Yankee gangstas. They express their love and respect and support, not because it's worn as gang colors or as a weapon; it's because it's their version of a Mom tattoo. Every team needs more fans like them. They earn respect from fans of other teams with similar supportive attitudes. Can I sit amidst Red Sox Nation and say "bless them"? I knew you'd understand.

Asfault Jungle

Excerpted from The Ticker Online, copyright 2008, The Ticker News Publications, Inc.

In an effort to keep the trickle of tourist dollars home, the authorities of the Northeastern U.S. have decided to bring vacation hotspots to the homeys. The citizenry doesn't have the coins for gas, and what few bucks remain can stay right here, thank you. Their first effort at bringing vacation to your neighborhood is in the form of little Grand Canyons, scattered at random amid our paved thoroughfares. To avoid any marketing infringement, they renamed these little versions "potholes". Take the wheel and it won't be long before you come upon one like a leftover Easter egg. Skirting the rim to admire the view is a must; stopping at the rim to gaze upon the panoramic sweep of the natural hole in the Earth isn't always an option.

Mistake? Nonesense.

I can spell, thank you. I do well myself and sometimes reference an online dictionary just so it won't get lonely.
Readers new to the room notice I'll drop in a word they've not seen before. Sort of a dual-purpose word, not exactly like a Sniglet. Look that up if you need to, then come back.
I discovered long ago that there are words easily assembled that are not in the dictionary, but should be. There's where the Sniglets and I part.
I like words that are twists on old ones, or combinations of two words that get one's attention just for a moment, not long enough to break the rhythm, but immediately obvious in their meaning in context.
I've gotten some fame for this, and modesty demands that I state that it flows easy and natural and I reject some that cross my mind for lack of utter obviousness. I have my standards.
A few examples:
When the rains come hard and noisy, I raise a thunderbrella.
That colorful insect flitting through the tulips must be a flutterby.
A speaker who bores the audience and does not address their desires is an ignorator.
I hit my first-ever New England frost heave and nearly found myself behind the wheel of a Honda Pileup.
I miss my original home and family there; I can't get enough Flagstuff.

I don't own a patent on this concept, so feel free to make up your own if it'll help you communicate all the better. After all, others before us got us where we are that very way.

Smooth As Butter: It's Celts Parquet

I never got lit up by basketball, maybe because no one in the family expressed the depth and beauty of the game.
Boston's sterling basketball history is now in the present, judging by the long-term fans.
I watched a game I accidentally saw while channel surfing.
Eye-popping jaw-dropping net-snapping thunder-ball.
I was enthralled.
That stunning game-play of theirs has to translate to the record they have, and maybe more. They have a real shot at winning the last game played this season.
Those who can appreciate a game can become a fan of a team in a blink, if such team plays it right, with imagination, with smarts, and an ear-to-ear grin.
I'm forcing words. Sorry.
I'm just trying to say that I've fallen for these guys. The long-timers tell me this is the way the Celtics played many times over many years until they fell upon tough times. It must have been a show to make your heart leap, game after impressive game.
This is the best reason for a fan to hope for a championship: When your local boys play so wonderfully, you feel they deserve the biggest reward for their exquisite effort.
I'm not a bandwagon fan. I just didn't know a thing about this team's mystique and legend. I discovered them quite on my own.
Unlike other teams in other sports, their fans wear the colors not because they're fans of winning; they're fans of the boys and the entertainment value they see right now, not the trophy they may see in the future.
I'm thrilled I can see what the buzz was--and is--all about.
Go Celtics.
Now I just have to learn to recognize a pick-and-roll.

Wicked Smaht

If we keep watching "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?" and answering the questions on the desktop calendar and playing the home game for the next five years, we'll all have a fifth-grade education.
We should look forward to that.
Special cheat: If you have the desktop calendar, burn through all the questions as soon as you can. That may put you above and beyond most of those hum-jobs running for President.
No, I'm not cynical.
I just know in what three states of matter water can exist. (Second grade science.)