Too Good to Garden

So after being hilarious on social media all weekend I went outside on Monday to engage in some horticultural activity as it is suddenly summer in Ottawa.

(My Blond Companion said, "You can lead a whore to culture, but"... So I finished with, "then you wouldn't understand the sex". Badaboom)

Anyway, I'm trying to get our little front yard, which I would happily trade in to our oil and gas overlords for a basic annual income, to be more or less maintenance free. This seems to involve digging up our little lawn of crabgrass every year and replacing whatever I put down last with something less involved.

So clover it is this go 'round.

While I was digging, a couple came by because I live where there's a lot of pedestrian traffic in a not urban but not suburban, either, part of our nation's capital. So outside Vanier, which is surprisingly pricey for an area of Ottawa with the reputation of Hamilton, and in a kind of drive-thru to better places.

Anyway, they were... how can I put this so as not have you think me more of a snob than you probably do already... husky-voiced, they were husky-voiced, and had much praise and many suggestions for how to go about my duties. But the thing was, they both talked at the same time. Or almost at the same time. As soon as she would start talking, he started talking, too. And they were saying different things so I was going back and forth like crazy. Then I realized if I didn't pick one and stick to her, I'd end up telling him to stop being such a sexist prick and shut the fuck up while she's talking.

I should add that she had a raw looking bruise on her cheek where it looked like someone may have recently punched her and I have no idea if he was responsible for that action or even if that's how she got the raw looking bruise. But I combined it and the talking over and the knowing what I know, which, for whatever reason, still isn't enough to stop me from paying attention to the man, even though I want to land an axe between his eyes, and forced myself to block him out and listen to her.

Don't worry. I don't actually have an axe.

And get this, she had summer jobs as a landscaper back in the day. You know, at resorts. Well, those jobs are the most coveted of summer jobs at resorts and pretty much boys only, too.

At least, they were.

Anyway, it's hard, isn't it, to know how to behave sometimes, but she was very helpful and I feel a little further along than I did before our conversation.

And yes, I'm not talking about the lawn.