Saturday, July 24, 2010

Lesson #8: Alternative method to landmines discovered

I am anal about few things compared to your standard anal husband.  But, I worked on the Turfgrass Management Staff at the Town & Country Club golf course from the time I was 15 to the time I went to medical school.  During those years, I learned how to mow a perfectly straight line, crisscross a green, and stripe a fairway as good as anyone at Augusta National.  I used to have an 80 ft string with a nail tied to each end that I would stretch across my parents’ yard when I was growing up, then I would run the left side of the LawnBoy right along it.  My dad would marvel at how straight the lines were across the big yard.  If we were having a party at the house, I may even mow a crisscross that day.

The problem now lies in the fact that I am no longer a member of the Turfgrass Management Staff, but still have this urge to mow very straight lines, crisscross, and have a ballpark-like turf.  When I bought this house 10 years ago, it had a yard full of weeds.  Now she’s green and plush.   The section of our front yard that is on the other side of the sidewalk along the parkway is city property.  I, however, have always mowed it because it allows me to have nice long lines.  The neighbors weren’t fond of this practice.  I could not figure out why.  I found out many years ago when I realized that those downstream of my yard didn’t get their parkway side of the front yard mowed any more because the city mowers stopped at my mowed yard.  Anyways, most of them have gotten over that after 10 years. 

The problem more recently appeared when the city replaced Walt the veteran mower with someone new.  The new guy decided that he was going to mow the parkway in front of my house a month ago or so.  The city mows at 3/4”-1” height and therefore scalps the hell out of my front yard when they mow.  It looks like crap and just grows weeds when it is cut that short.  So I had to figure out how to let the new guy know he was crossing a line without appearing totally anal about my yard.

I have tried to time my mowing within 24 hrs of the city’s schedule, but haven’t been able to predict 100% recently because all the rain here has thrown off their usual Tuesday mowing cycle.  I figure that if they see freshly cut grass with stripes, abutting their long city grass they will stop at that juncture.  The last few weeks I have mowed 2-3 days prior to the city, and it didn’t work.  So, this week, I mowed Thursday, they didn’t mow Friday.  I mowed Sunday, they didn’t mow Monday.  I went out there Monday night (Jessie asked what the hell I was doing mowing again) and laid down some heavy lines about 5 feet upstream of where our yard ends.  I went over them 3-4 times.  It was pretty darn obvious this time because the city hadn’t mowed for almost 2 weeks because of the rain.  I decided if this didn’t work, I was going to buy a 6pk of landmines at Ax-Man army surplus store this week. 

Tuesday morning, 10 hours after I mowed, we awoke to the sounds of a Toro triplex 72” rider coming down the parkway.  Here are the pictures I shot on my phone out of the bedroom window…

Picture #1, mower approaching the warning lines on the upstream side of the tree.  You can see my stripes in the picture.  I am starting to get nervous.

photo(2)

Back Camera

Picture #2, mower comes right up to the tree, pauses and makes a sharp turn to the right, overlapping my warning stripes only!

photo(3)Hallelujah!   Now it is just a question of whether this game has to be repeated every Monday night, or whether my over-anal attempt this week was enough to teach the new mower where to stop.  We’ll see next week. 

Lesson?  If you are anal enough, you can avoid purchasing and using landmines within St. Paul city limits. 

Monday, July 12, 2010

Teaching #7: Time to go fishing?

Sig: Epinephrine 0.4mg IM x 1, may repeat x 1 for continued anaphylactic signs and symptoms

I’ve had several interactions with the old swimming creatures in my life and subsequently with an EpiPen.  I’m allergic to everything that swims in the water except for frogs and turtles I think.  That is not news to anyone.  When I was 7 years old, sitting in the Denver airport on a flight delay back home, my dad pulled his Swiss army knife and a Bic Pen out of his pocket.  He then showed me how to do an emergency cricothyrotomy by removing the ink cartridge from the Bic Pen, making a small incision just below my Adam’s Apple, shoving the shell of the pen through the hole, and then breathing for someone through the Bic Pen.  See the included video below if you are trying this on someone at home while you are reading the blog, or if you have found this blog in an emergency google search and need to know how to do this.  Just substitute Swiss Army knife for the scalpel, and substitute a Bic Pen for the airway tube in the video.  Otherwise it’s pretty much the same. 

This post, however, is in reference a new revelation.  I love the cobb salad at Salut in St. Paul.  It is amazing.  It has one of the most brilliant dressings on it, and that is 75% of its glory.  I have eaten this salad 5-6 times in the past couple years.  Every time, I get a little feeling that I’m having an allergic reaction, but it never really develops fully.  The next 24 hours I have tons of watery mucus inside my body.  I found out this weekend the reason why.  I Googled “Green Goddess Dressing Recipe,” and I see anchovy paste in most of the recipes.  I know why my long run on Sunday had 4 bathroom stops.  Just a tad bit of denatured anchovy, not enough to mandate “Epinephrine 0.4mg IM x 1, may repeat x 1 for continued anaphylactic signs and symptoms,” but enough to tweak me.  I feel stupid that it took me 6 salads to figure this out.  But, the salad is so darn good that I think I will just premedicate myself with some steroid and Benadryl next time.  Teaching?  Well, there is one in this post that could save your life…Actually 2 if you are alergic to fish and see Green Goddess Dressing on a menu…Actually 3 if you ever need something to pass the time with your 7 year old child in an airport on the way back from a fishing trip…Actually 4 if you are looking for an awesome salad some night.  Call me and I’ll come have one with you.