I’m pretty confident that many of you, like me, have often wondered what would happen if, when mowing your lawn, a towel, normally used for drying off wet dog feet, that was being used to seal the hole around the grass pickup tube, magically fell down the chute and got all tangled up in the mower blades.

First, it makes the entire machine buck and jump like it’s going to tear itself apart, then, if you continue to run the mower deck, friction will ignite it which creates an unsettling amount of smoke from both the mower deck, and the discharge bags. Actually, it never really ignited … it just created a lot of smoke.

It’s quite exciting.

Here’s the resultant product …

I figure I can just little rags like this for a lot of projects around here. Getting them back into shape will require a washing, however, and I’m not sure Diane would be a fan of tackling that project. I might have to take it all to the laundromat. Or maybe just soak it all in a bucket for a few days and just lay the pieces out to dry.

For those of you wondering what Jeff brought me for my birthday, the suspense is over …

My new shirt and a pair of imogee jammie bottoms. Diane was very happy because the legs are long enough to reach the floor. I have another pair that don’t. The last time I wore them she said, “whenever you want to make me laugh, wear those.” They fit a little like pedal pushers. Remember those? Anyway, I love my new clothes.

Diane took her Mom, Jean, to the doctor today and she got a clean bill of health, all things considered. She doesn’t need to see him for another year. Pretty good for 89. I should be so healthy.

When Diane returned from Portland cooked up some more hamburgers. I was trusted with a knife to slice the tomato and chop up the last bit of shallot remaining in the fridge. Diane doesn’t eat them so I got all of it. There was enough to make about an 1/8th inch layer which I imbedded in the mayo on the bottom part of the bun, then put the meat over the top so none of the pieces fell out. It’s very important to me that shallots don’t escape from the bun while eating a hamburger. Most of the time that’s not a problem because I usually have onions. They always fall out.

Now I must flush the grass residue so I don’t make the house unbreathable for Diane. She went to Wal-Mart to get a new kitchen clock to replace the one she got in 1974 at a Copper Ware party in Pensacola, Florida. It’s been around for a while. Now it’s going to be a picture frame. Maybe.

The dogs are barking so Diane’s home. She’s been gone about an hour but they think it’s been days.

Later …