Monday, May 22, 2006

me... a grease-monkey

I fully intended to mop today; in a couple of places, my shoes literally stick to the kitchen floor (ewwww, I know).  But Cliff wanted to do some cleaning up in the hay fields, and he needed an extra pair of hands.  Seeing none of the neighborhood boys anywhere, I volunteered.  We moved electric fence back so Cliff could mow with his little John Deere and the brush hog.  We put electric fence back that had been pulled out of the way for mowing hay.  I removed some random piles of hay that would have smothered out portions of the field and killed alfalfa plants.  By the time all that was done, it was lunchtime; I was tired and didn't want to cook, so we each had a salad.

I spent a little time inside, washing dishes and writing a poem.  Going to the shop to check on Cliff, I saw him with grease gun in hand, obviously having problems getting his baler greased. 

"Need some help?"

"Yeah, come here and take this grease gun, and pump it when I tell you."

Do you have any idea how many grease zerks there are on a hay-baler?  Oh, and that's a new word I learned today:  zerk.  All my life I thought those things were called grease certs; Cliff said most people pronounce it "zert".  Of course I had to google it, only to find out he was right.  From Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 10th
edition -  "zerk n. [Oscar U. Zerk Am. (Austrian born) inventor] (1926): a grease
fitting."

So no, I haven't mopped.  Maybe tomorrow?

Oh, here's the silly poem I wrote today:

HUMPTY DUMPTY, A NEW VERSION
(The Egg That’s Bound To Break)
Donna Wood
© May 22, 2006
 
Clifford hates to sit around and watch the weeds grow tall
Or see a project sidelined that he can’t work on at all.
Since he’s had bypass surgery, I follow in his wake
And beg him to take care, like he’s an egg that’s bound to break.
 
It wouldn’t be so bad if he would follow doctors’ rules,
But he goes to his shop and starts in working with his tools,
And pretty soon, he hurts himself, admitting his mistake.
It’s just like being married to an egg that’s bound to break.
 
When it came time for haying, other people lent a hand,
But Cliff was not content to simply sit and give commands.
He got up on the tractor and went to the field to rake,
While I walked right behind him, waiting for that egg to break.
 
He says work is "therapy", but I just say he’s crazy.
Maybe I should thank the Lord that my man isn’t lazy,
But I wish I could slow him down. This ain’t no piece of cake,
Married to a man who’s like an egg that’s bound to break.

11 comments:

sugarsweet056 said...

WOW, you've been busy!
Hugs to both,
Sugar

nanlynska said...

We must have gone to the same school, Donna. I TOO thought the word was 'cert'. Bill worked in a service station (remember those? LOL) when we first got married. He serviced cars and would speak of grease zerks. But I thought he said 'cert or sert' Mmmmmm......but now I know what the word is after ALL these years ! Thanks for the info. Never too old to learn I guess. LOL  Take care and BLESSIGS.   Nance

bnanajm said...

Oh dear me.  I wish I had been there with a camera.  :o)

fierrorachel said...

Well, I've been half right for all these years.  I called them Zerts.  LOL  Maybe dad didn't say it clearly enough?  Surely there is SOMEONE to blame for our ignorance...other than us, that is.

lanurseprn said...

What a great poem!!  I hope Cliff reads it!  Funny word "zerk." I never heard of it!  Never would have guessed that's what it meant, either!  I'm glad Cliff is feeling well enough to do some of his chores....but lets hope he doesn't stress YOU out!
Enjoy your evening.
Pamela

madcobug said...

Wish Cliff had of had your camera right about then. Loved your poem. Have a good night. Helen

marainey1 said...

You are soooo talented. I love the poem --  'Donna put it all together again !'
I guess we never know what we might be called on to do...Last year you probably had a clean floor and never thought about grease guns.  I know I wouldn't . Take good care !  'On Ya'- ma

csandhollow said...

Have you talked to Cliff? Maybe you should let him know just how worried you are. That if he does not slow down you will have one from worry about him.

lmitc89854 said...

Loved your poem! It is perfect. When your chest is cracked open it is like Humpty Dumpty! Doesn't Cliff hurt? When I started driving after 3 weeks (out of necessity) and I drove all over K.C., I really hurt in the evening. All those muscles were worn outin my chest!!)

firestormkids04 said...

Great poem!  I really appreciate you sense of humor through all of this.  You are in my prayers.  Blessings, Penny http://journals.aol.com/firestormkids04/FromHeretoThere

am4039 said...

I love the poem and it sounds like that is Cliff to a tee.