H-h-h-h-o-o-o-o-o-o-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!

75 degrees is normally nice. Very nice. The sun is out, the sky is blue. It's a beautiful day.

Unless you're pushing a non-self-propelled mower along the length of a ditch over and over again.

What possessed my Dad to purchase this mower of torture? He used it for years. Was he a monk in a former life and prone to self-flagellation?

Must admit, though. This is a great workout. I've had five bottles of water and my heart is pumping like a teenager that's just caught site of her biggest crush.

Oh. Look at that. Mowing also seems to be a way to peel off apparently unneeded skin.

Joy.