Featured Column
Hard Rock Country
by Leeuna Foster
"Sometimes, there just aren't enough rocks" Forrest said to Jennie.
Well, Forrest should have sent Jennie to my house where rocks mate and produce
offspring faster than my husband and his shiny new lawnmower can get rid of them.
Just when I think there is not another rock left on the planet, Hubby finds a brand
new family of them hiding in the grass like hornets. Each time I think he has mowed
over and slung the last surviving rock into the next county, he discovers a new batch.
The man has never met a lawnmower he couldn't destroy. So far in the eight
years
we've been married, he has managed to completely demolish nine lawnmowers of his
own and the one he borrowed from our neighbor. With his patronage alone, the
owners of Mowers-R-Us have been able to put all six of their kids through college.
Not to mention his contribution to the lumber industry. In the Spring, our
neighborhood resembles a town along the gulf coast during hurricane season. At the
first sign of Spring, when mowing season begins, the neighbors immediately begin
nailing plywood over their windows. Reports of Hubby's intent to mow are announced
on the six o'clock news. Sometimes they interrupt the regularly scheduled programing
for a lawnmower alert.
The local weather forecast goes something like this:
"Expect partly cloudy skies this evening, with a twenty percent chance of rain by
morning. Northwest winds 10 mph or less. Temperatures will be in the low to mid
sixties and Mr. Hubby will be mowing his lawn this evening. We strongly urge all the
folks in that area to be on the alert. At the first sound of a lawnmower, seek shelter in
a basement or a closet. Stay tuned to this station in the event of an emergency
evacuation."
These aren't all little tiny pebbles either; most of them are full grown rocks. And
hubby never misses a single one. He manages to hit each rock at least twice. Once on
the forward sweep and again on the backward drag. They pepper the house in a
musical rhythm reminding me of that old 60s tune called 'Wipe Out'. Add in a little fife
music and it would sound like a regiment of Civil War soldiers marching through the
neighborhood. On the few times I go outside to help him, I wear goggles and a helmet.
Listen, I might look dumb walking around in hundred-degree temperatures wearing this
garb, but I learned my lesson after the first three trips to the ER for stitches. I still
suffer from brain damage.
The county elected to put up a big yellow caution sign near the house with an
arrow pointing toward our yard with lights flashing the words: HUBBY MOWING. No one
will drive by the house when the caution light is on except the Wells Fargo truck or
someone driving a tank. Terrified parents rush outside and drag their children to
safety. The dogs cower under the front porch and the cattle kneel in the fields in an
attempt to dodge the sparks and the rocks flying from beneath the wheels of the
roaring machine pushed by a madman with no shirt at a speed of thirty-five miles per
hour.
When it's finally safe to go outside again, I walk around the house and survey the
carnage. I count the broken windows and the holes in the siding. The house looks like
the aftermath of a drive-by shooting, or like it's been attacked by Zorro with an AK47
instead of a sword. I point out the shattered panes in the bay window. Hubby shrugs
and reminds me that the window needed replacing anyway...after all it's three month
old. I just smile and nod. He assures me he will pick up a replacement window on his
way to get a new lawnmower.
I heave a sigh of relief that mowing season will soon be over. Then I remember
the leaf blower he bought last winter. I run to the garage and read the operating
instructions on the box. It reads: Precauci?n: Motor de gran alcance. Utilice el
cuidado extremo al trabajar en un ?rea que contenga rocas.
Well, kiss my burrito! I can't read Spanish! Nor French nor German. But I'm betting
a brand new Snapper self-propelled mower-mulcher that if I could have found any
English on the box it would have said: Warning. High velocity. Use with extreme
caution in rocky areas?
Maybe I should phone the manufacturer. Maybe I'd better warn the neighbors. I
have a headache. Did I mention I suffer from brain damage...
Ask the Editor
Dear Editor,
As an aspiring ebook author, I am having a difficult time, having my
hyperlinks, be active links, in a .pdf file I published using Adobe
Reader 7.0. I have meticulously followed Adobe’s instructions, without
success. Any suggestions for a converter program which may resolve this
issue?
James
Hi James,
Thanks for asking a question that I’m sure a lot of people can benefit
from.
One alternative might be that you can use an online .pdf creator which
allows you to convert almost any type of file extension to a .pdf file.
The program charges a small fee per document, or you can get a yearly
membership which will allow you to convert as many files as you wish.
This is a good option for someone who writes a lot of ebooks. They do
offer a free trial membership that you can try out before you spend your
money. They also offer a lot of support, should you have questions or
problems.
You can read more about it here http://createpdf.adobe.com/
Another alternative is a piece of free software called PdfSuite995 that
will convert your documents to pdf. The free version is fully
functional, not a trial, and it doesn’t expire like some of the free downloads.
You can read more about it and download it here
http://www.software995.com.
Leeuna
|
November's
Freebie |
|
|
Do you need a text editor that has a few more options
than Note Pad and
is a little easier to use than Word Pad? If so, get a free one here at:
http://www.context.cx/
|
