Lazy days of spring?

I love the smell of fresh-cut grass. The problem is that we have to actually cut the grass to get it.

We have about an acre lot. I seriously don’t mind pushing the mower around the front and side yards. I actually volunteer on sunny days so I can multi-task: mowing, tanning and walking all at the same time.

The backyard is another story. Thanks to some friendly moles, it’s like a dozen land mines went off back there. It is very lumpy mowing and hard to push. I am still recovering from mowing three days ago. (Cue the violins, please.)

With my chronic back problems, I usually just leave the backyard to my big, strong husband. But I was trying to be nice this weekend since he was suffering from allergies. I never did finish and now I’m sitting here at the computer, avoiding the physical labor and, essentially, watching the grass grow.

Short-term solution: I gave Jim some allergy medicine so he can finish. I realize, though, this is my responsibility, so I am hoping it will be sunny after work tomorrow so I can tackle it before I need a scythe.

Long-term solution: I’m hoping our friendly woodchuck will chase away the moles so we can have our yard back!

It also would be nice if someone invented a candle with the fresh-cut grass smell. (Heck, they’ve got them for everything else!) That way I can burn the candle while relaxing in the hot tub and feel like I’ve accomplished something without moving one lazy bone in my lazy body. Ahhh …

Dirty laundry

I've always followed the rule that I shouldn't write anything for publication that I wouldn't want my mother to read. In other words, keep it clean.

Well Mom found out what I've been doing on the Internet. She happened to stumble upon a meet-and-greet with my fans this weekend (a.k.a. family get-together).

My siblings, bless their hearts, were talking about some of my blogs and how much they enjoy them. Just as my head started swelling to enormous proportions, Mom breaks in with "You're doing what?!"

Helpful sibling #1 says, "Robyn's got a blog!"

"A what?" asks Mom.

Helpful sibling #2 says, "A blog. She's just writing about her childhood and our family secrets." (Ha. Ha. Thank you, supportive family.)

One, you can't joke like that with my mother. Two, how do you explain what a blog is to someone who still uses a rotary phone?

After getting past the fact that a blog was nothing like a tumor or any medical condition, I just explained that it was like my old newspaper column I used to do ... just little light anecdotes about life -- not airing our family's dirty laundry!

Besides, I said, the only people reading it are family or people sitting within a 10-foot radius of my desk. It's not like my commercials on Lifetime have started airing yet.

I don't think she grasped the concept. Of course, now that I know Mom thinks the World Wide Web is a sequel to Charlotte's Web, I might just write what I please.

Nah. One of my siblings would tattle!

Siete de Mayo

Happy Siete de Mayo! Yes, I realize it is two days past Cinco de Mayo but I had something to celebrate today.

I ran 4 miles! That's cuatro milas for you Espaniolers -- the farthest this little senorita has ever run.

I have been trying to run every day since about mid-April when I met Jim's cousin Sally, a marathon runner from Chicago. She mentioned running 1,200 miles last year. I was so impressed.

No, I am NOT planning on running a marathon, but I realized later that she basically had to run a 5K a day to accomplish that. Jim said "I bet you could run 900 miles in a year." So I said "OK, I'll start keeping track on the calendar."

I try to run some each day. When I have energy, I'll do 3 miles or 3.2 (for a 5K) and if I'm tired I'll just go 2 (or hit the snooze and roll over).

Over lunch hour today (after my Tab Energy Drink, of course), I decided to see how far I could go. I went as far as the 2-mile mark, turned around and figured I could always walk when I got to 3 miles if I needed to. I made it there and kept going.

I was getting pretty tired and contemplating walking when Satan happened by. That's what I'm calling him. He was a big ugly dog. I don't like big dogs and I don't like ugly dogs, either -- especially those I don't know.

To be safe, I decided to ignore him. Right. My strategy: I didn't go faster or slower -- just maintained my speed and kept looking straight ahead while my heart was palpitating in fear. I don't even remember the last half mile. I didn't dare stop and in the end, I guess that's a good thing. Thanks to Satan (or Diablo en Espaniol), I can say I ran 4 miles.

Maybe he could be my new jogging partner. Isn't there a song about "running with the devil"?

License to drive

Jim and I had the unusual opportunity for a Friday night date this weekend. As it turned out, Carter was at a sleepover so we were free to do as we pleased.

We had already planned to go to Golden Sands Speedway outside of Wisconsin Rapids to see Jim's nephew Colin Reffner race. My stepson Casey also wanted to go so he volunteered to pick us up and chauffeur us to the races. Now that's going out in style!

I didn't remember until I got into the backseat that this was the first time I had ridden with him. (He just got his license a month ago.) He seemed pretty relaxed and handled the stick shift well. I was impressed until he pulled out from a stop sign in the path of a car I (and Dad) thought was going pretty fast. "What? I had all day," he said. Teenagers know everything, don't they?

We enjoyed the races. Colin, who is only 13 (talk about worrying your mother) and racing a 4-cylinder car, finished fifth in his race. And I'm happy to report we made it to and from the races safe and sound. I white-knuckled it a bit, but I think it will get better. I'm sure I put my parents through the same thing.

I can remember driving with my dad when I passed a car for the first time and cut right back in front of it with little room to spare. I got quite a talking to from Dad.

Of course, this is from the same guy who when I was riding with him, coasted through a stop sign and told me the ones with white borders are "optional."

I guess for every teen with a driver's license, there is an adult with a license to B.S.

Associate's degree

I have this fear my son is going to grow up to be a Wal-Mart associate. Nothing against Wal-Mart, I mean I spend more time there than at church or on the golf course, but I am hoping he aspires to something higher ... Maybe something that will support his parents someday.

Anyway, he's got this desire to be a cart boy or whatever you may call those guys in the orange vests who corral the shopping carts so they don't get run over or take up spaces in the parking lot. Every time we go -- even if it's raining -- he offers to put our cart away after we've unloaded our groceries and other rollback pricing finds of the day.

He then proceeds to put our cart away and find any other "strays" in the area. This only takes a few minutes but I think he'd do the whole lot if I let him. "I'm helping the community, Mom," he says.

Last night I had to cut him short so I could get home in time for Grey's. Plus, he'd already done his work as an associate. If you can believe it, Carter actually did a price check!

We were in the Express Lane and the price would not come up on this Spider-Man playground ball we were buying for his friend's birthday. The cashier paged someone in toys twice and got no response. So Carter volunteered to check it out. I was surprised the cashier let him, but who could resist those dimples? He trotted halfway across the store and back before anyone answered the page!

"Maybe I should work here!" he said. I was cringing inside but then part of me thought, hmmm ... employee discount ....

Energize me!

OK, it takes me awhile to try new things. Just ask my husband. OK, get your mind out of the gutter! I'm talking about food (well, mainly).

He claims I get into a rut when we go out to eat. I always order the same thing. This is kind of true. However, we don't go out to eat very often so it's not like I'm eating Chicken Cordon Bleu or Eggs Benedict every week.

I like the fish fry at The Ridges, the Chicken Cordon Bleu at Hilltop and the chicken strips at Rusty's Backwater Saloon. If there's a good thing at a particular restaurant, chances are I'll order that good thing every time we go there ... that and a Diet Coke with lemon. I'll admit I'm in that rut.

I'm pleased to report I've been walking on the wild side lately. I was curious about these new "energy drinks" that allegedly give you a boost when you need it. I know I need a boost now and then -- I just didn't know how much they'd give me. Is it just like adding a cup of coffee to my morning routine or will they make me so jittery I won't be able to control my computer mouse?!

And what do they taste like? With names like Red Bull and Hype, that doesn't tell me anything. So while perusing the grocery story aisle (did you know there are 109 different energy drinks?) I picked a name I knew from way back: Tab energy drink.

They still make Tab? They make Tab energy drinks? Yes and yes. What does it taste like? Like someone dropped a very sour, tart vitamin into a can of Tab and let it dissolve. I'm not sure it gave me much of a burst of energy so I went with another brand I knew: Mountain Dew Amp. Same taste but I felt a little burst -- I think it's because this one had sugar!

My hope was that with the help of these energy drinks I could get up early to go running. I would slam one and be able to run just moments after shutting off my alarm.

So this morning, I wake up at 5:15 a.m., drink some Amp (I could not force myself to drink the whole thing) and go running. Unfortunately, I was running/jogging like I just rolled out of bed. I did survive the 3 miles!

I think the energy burst finally hit when I was done and in the shower already. So while my mile time was sluggish today, I can at least report I'm squeaky clean!!

May Day

Of course this day holds a special place in my heart. My baby (he hates when I call him that) turns 9 today! Where does the time go?

May Day was always a special time when I was a child, too. We'd help Mom make May baskets out of construction paper and sometimes envelopes -- she had a trick to folding them and cutting the handle to make them look like baskets. It was some pretty creative handiwork!

And why were we doing this? One of the most popularly known May Day traditions is to hang a basket full of spring flowers and/or other small gifts or candy on a neighbor's doorknob. The trick is you don't want the neighbor to see you! If you get caught, you are supposed to get a kiss.

We only had two houses with boys in the neighborhood. And, as much as we'd love for the Hacker boys to catch us and kiss us, we had to expand our mission. No, not for more kisses! We delivered a lot of baskets to elderly folks in the area who really appreciated the gesture.

Call it a spring act of kindness, if you will. That's what May Day is all about.

That, and a special "baby" who I can kiss every day of the year!