Zen And The Art Of Futility
Insanity: “Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” (attributed to Albert Einstein and others)
As dads, there are certain milestones in our sons’ lives we await with great anticipation. Those milestones signifying the boy becoming a man.
We are so proud, because we can finally say what we have wanted to for so long. Something along the lines of:
“Get off the friggin electronics and go out and mow the lawn!!!”
I love those milestones.
Yesterday, eldest Son of Thunder and I were out doing that bonding thing – making sure we didn’t get another letter from the
nanny state very caring and precious subdivision people. He tackled the lawnmower while I handled the weeding. I get that wonderful job because otherwise the Little Black Dress will give me a look that signifies something along the lines that “if Eldest Son cuts off his legs with that weed wacking whatchamacallit contraption …”
And I just hate the phrase “I told you so.”
Anyway, I’m trying not to cut my own leg off when I get one of those Zen moments, or heat exhaustion kicks in hard, not really sure. I realize I truly and unequivocally abhor yard work. And I was thinking the only way I’d even consider getting any joy out of mowing would be if I was riding one of those huge riding do-dads complete with a massaging chair and big umbrella, sipping my favorite beverage while The Dress fed me grapes.
Yeah, definitely heat exhaustion.
But continuing my Zen/heat stroke philosophy moment, I realize I am practicing the art of futility. Bear with me.
We water and water and seed and reseed and upseed and overseed and water some more and then fertilize and irrigate and thatch (whatever the heck that is), and a myriad of other things to our lawns. And we fawn over the grass and some go as far as talk to it (I attribute that to the aforementioned heat stroke) and maybe even pray.
We do everything we possibly can to make our grass just grow and grow.
And then we cut it.
Let’s just all ponder that for a moment, shall we? We spend countless hours, a swimming pool worth of sweat and lord knows how much money just so we can cut down what we previously painstakingly tried to grow. And you just know the grass is like, “dude, make up your mind.”
And I realize there is a better way.
Spray paint. Green spray paint.