Macho Macho Man

Do you know what that is?! That, my good people, is why life insurance agents LAUGH AT ME! Laugh. Knee-slapping belly-laughs. Because that is J. My partner in life. And J is up a tree without a net or harness. Wielding a pair of pruners.

Let me give you a little glimpse at the inner workings of J's brain. When J sees something which needs to be done, he does it. Right now. And if J starts his Saturday morning sipping a cup o' Joe and watching Ax Men on the History Channel, J decides pruning trees is just the thing to which he should give his undivided attention. Right now. So he consumed three of the cinnamon rolls my friend Tammy & I spent five hours making last night (more on that in a minute), said, "Quite tasty my Dear!!" and hopped in the shower. He emerged outfitted in his Serious Manly Work Clothes, a.k.a his Manly Logging Clothes, and armed with a handsaw, a pair of pruners (seen above) and a ladder. As he sauntered out the back door, I called out, "Don't you need my supervision?!" and he hollered, "No, Woman!! Get back in the house!! Do you see any of those Ax Men hauling their wives along when they go to work?! No! No, you don't!! You have windows, most of which operate fairly well, and you can call to me through one of those if you MUST give me advice!!"

Since the dawning of time, a battle has raged in our household. A battle of wills. On the one (read: right) side, a woman who has knowledge in the Design and Maintenance of Landscapes. And on the other side? A six-foot tall tower of Testosterone. And in the words of another J, a.k.a. Hubs, "My Estro is no match for his Testo!" Never mind that mixed in with my Estrogen is an education in The Proper Way and Time to Prune a Tree; one simply cannot reason with Testosterone. And, within his arsenal lies a secret weapon, His Mother (whom I love dearly!!). This has put many a chink in my armor. Not that the man needs any support in his efforts to ignore the Nagging Banshee Known As His Wife, but his mother (whom I love dearly!!!) has told him she has pruned trees at all times of the year, and they have been none the worse for wear. And when a boy brings his Momma (whom I love dearly!!!!) to the fight, I'm gonna lose. Nevertheless! Might does not beat Right. And as you'll recall, I'm RIGHT. You don't have to take my word for it. Just think of it this way: If you're in the midst of a growth spurt (read: Spring & Summer), how much growing do you think you'd do if someone suddenly lopped off your arm? Stumped? (Forgive the pun, I couldn't help myself. Won't happen again. I swear.) I'm gonna say, not a lot. You'd forget all about growing and focus your energy on healing. Next question: If you were heading to the North Pole for an extended vacation (read: Fall), and as you boarded the plane, someone suddenly lopped off your leg, how well do you think you'd fare in the frozen tundra? Stumped? (Sorry. No more. Promise.) I'll tell ya how you'd fare, not well! Not well at all! Because now, instead of using your flight time to load up on calories to keep you warm, you'd spend it bandaging your severed limb! So you're left with Winter. That is when you prune; you lop all you want (up to one-third of the tree). Before bud-break. Then and only then.

So, the Ax Man did choose to act impulsively at the right time of year. I take no issue with his timing. The thing which gives me pause is the picture at the beginning of this post. After being told to stay in the kitchen and share my 'advice' with the cats, if I felt the need to speak, I set about cleaning up the breakfast mess. (No, I haven't forgotten about the five hours of baking story, that's another post.) Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slight movement, which I figured was one of the millions of squirrels who frequent our trees. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was J! Shimmying up that tree like a monkey, pruning shears in hand. Sweet Jesus, give me strength! I resisted the urge to scream at him, fearing any sudden loud noise might startle him, causing him to lose his grip on the tree and drop the shears, which he would then land on squarely. I did the next best thing. I snapped pics with my cell phone, and sent one to Tammy. Her husband replied, "Is J on drugs?!" And I fired back, "Not unless you consider life a drug. He's high on life. And, he watched Ax Men this morning, so now he fancies himself a big bad logger!" I'm told that upon reading my response, he burst out laughing, and needed to take five to compose himself.

Yes, J is high on life. And when J encounters an obstacle, he and his inner child have a conversation which goes something like this, "Hm. I need to get that branch way up there, but can't reach it with this puny ladder!" Inner child: "Dude! Use the puny ladder to reach the tree and then just CLIMB THE TREE TO GET WHERE YOU WANT!!" J: "Why that's a splendid idea! I like the way you think, young man!" And that is how J ended up in the tree. After trimming to his satisfaction, he came in search of Man Fuel, a.k.a. pizza, and informed me that he was going to find some equipment, namely a man-lift and small end dump. I asked him if he was done assaulting the first tree and he muttered, "Yeah. After a while I stared hearing a song in my head, 'Face on the ground, face on the ground. Lookin' like a fool with your face on the ground!' and decided it was about time to get out of the tree." On his way out the door, in search of more Ax Man equipment he hollered, "You might want to read section 6, sub-paragraph xii of our Marriage Agreement!" To summarize, "The Husband, hereafter referred to as Morpheus, may, at any time, call upon the Wife, hereafter referred to as Woman, to operate a man-lift, thereby aiding Morpheus in his tree-pruning activities. Woman may not, at any time, offer suggestions, advice or warnings to Morpheus, and shall remain silent during the operation of the man-lift." (Just a little nod to all my fellow Dwight Schrute fans.)

Happy Saturday Folks, I'm off to operate a man-lift.
Love,
Woman