All Things Southern – Bless her little unfortunate heart

       Yep! That’s about right. My heart is always in the right place; but what I’m doing just seems to get me in trouble.

It’s the story of my life folks.

For all you following my stories, you probably remember that about this time last year, I mowed over one of Hubby’s prized fig trees in our little orchard of a back yard. Putting it mildly, he was none too pleased.

Well, he warned me the other day – now that spring is here and I’m out mowing the yard again – that he replaced the tree. Ummm – news to me. Needless to say, I was standing there with a roller coaster going through my mind wondering if I had already mowed it down. Since he wasn’t jumping up and down and ranting and raving, I assumed that I hadn’t.

English: A reel lawn mower, adapted from an il...
English: A reel lawn mower, adapted from an illustration used in an advertisement in a 1888 issue of Garden and Forest. The ad was placed by Chadborn & Coldwell Manufacturing in Newburgh, New York. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was out mowing the orchard – back yard – today and noticed this huge picket – actually a tall piece of pvc pipe to be exact. It was marking a very little, teeny-tiny fig tree. That tree would have definitely been history! I’ll be safe as long Ryka and Calypso don’t decide that piece of plastic pvc pipe isn’t their newest toy – or the tree. AND! Get this! Hubby wants to buy me a zero-turn radius mower! Is the man nuts, I ask?! I’m am plenty dangerous enough on a regular lawn mower, I don’t’ need any extra help!

I’m known for doing good deeds; or maybe I should say that I am known for good deeds gone wrong. It is truly not my fault. I must have had a hell-of-a-good time in a former life, because Karma has definitely got something on me. There is a permanent bite mark on my butt!

You would think that after being married to me for fourteen years, Hubby would remember that I can not tell which way the wind is blowing – when it comes to knowing which gate to swing open and which to hold open. I inevitably get it the opposite – every single time. He knows this. There-are-just-some-things-I-do-not-get. I just don’t! So…knowing that, why doesn’t he just tell me every time I get out of the car to open the gates, which gate to secure? Hello – how many times must the gate scrape the side of his truck, or him take a gate out with his band wagon or boat trailer, etc. until he gets it? I don’t get it!!!

Incidentally, he may very well think I do this on purpose.

Oh, well. There were a few other good deeds gone wrong that I’ve done recently, but on the off chance someone he knows reads my blog, he hasn’t found out about them yet, so I am not going to expound on them. That should keep me safe for a while. They always surface – eventually.

So – the moral of this little Southern story is: The road to hell is paved with good intentions – usually mine. Bless my little Southern heart!

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Originally posted June 13, 2012.