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My husband is an avid golfer and he has maintained a small journal detailing club selection, yardage, course topography and other helpful tips and tricks gleaned from the countless golf courses and tournaments he’s played in over the years.

I pulled a load of laundry from the dryer this weekend and found a small, curled up sheet of paper with what appeared to show some crude shapes and writing that I couldn’t quite make out. When I handed it to my husband, he groaned in dismay. He’d been looking for his journal and I had just unwittingly discovered where it had been. Sadly for my husband, the remains of all his copious note-taking was found at the bottom of the dryer drum.

He thinks he may be able to salvage some of it but I’m afraid it’s going to take some doing.

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Cozy and still
Despite flashing streaks of light across a darkening sky
And rumblings: low, deep and satisfyingly sustained,
She sips her cuppa.

Curled up in cushiony comfort, with a good read to occupy her thoughts
And a small, yet sturdy table top close at hand
From which to reach for her mug of warmth
She thinks how luscious and perfect this moment feels.
Peaceful. Calm. She is content.

Nature’s noisy and brilliant displays
Set to the music of a driving, late summer rain.
While here, just here, safely ensconced in the place she calls home
She enjoys the quiet connection of her mind and what some might call her soul
To the rat-a-tat cacophony of sound outside her window.

Fleeting, always fleeting, over and done with for some time before she recognizes the storm has past
And is no more.
She is jarred back into the Reality of Things
And gets up from her snug place of rest
To empty the dishwasher, fold towels and contemplate her next move.

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On my walk this morning, in an attempt to get it over and done with before the heat and humidity set in for the day (but apparently not early enough!), I saw a young woman out mowing her lawn. My first thought was that of being thankful we’d already completed that chore ourselves – Bill normally does the front yard while I do the back but sometimes, I mow it all – and then it occurred to me that I don’t know that I’ve ever seen another woman in our neighborhood mowing the grass, aside from my rock star neighbor, Angi, and me.

Cue back a few years ago: Angi and I enjoyed a friendly mowing pattern competition one summer where we’d post our most recent lawn art on Facebook with a ‘top that’ throw-down challenge. It was fun and a little zany but after a while, we either ran out of ideas or motivation to continue. In any case, the point here, is that Angi mows their lawn the majority of the time and when my RA (last summer) or fractured toe (this year) hasn’t prevented me from getting out there, I actually like mowing.

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I think mowing one’s lawn is great exercise, allows for your daily dose of Vitamin D and provides relative solitude for some serious think time. And I got to thinking – do most women prefer that their husbands or boyfriends handle this chore? Or are there any – like Angi and me – who don’t mind it at all?

How about a show of (feminine) hands: Who likes (or at least doesn’t mind) mowing the lawn? Who wears the mowing pants in your family? Is this something you enjoy? Why or why not? I’d love to hear from you!