The Cursed Orange Ant's Challenge Of Death

Oh lordy my garden is a disaster area. Its a mess. I cannot believe it.
One year of partial neglect is all it took and I've got freaking giant buttercups with crowns as big around as my wrist everywhere.

Val, the woman with the most gorgeous garden in town stopped by the other day and wanted to take a wander around, so we did, and I was appalled, and so was she. We are good enough friends that there isn't any competition, but she's a woman that knows her stuff. Her yard should be in a gardening book; its that gorgeous and tasteful. And here's mine with last years' old stems all sticking up and tufts of grass like discarded fright wigs all over the place.
Time for Danger Muk to spring into action.

I did my first real mowing of the year yesterday. This means that after a few high mowings I finally set the deck down and give the grass a good shearing. That leaves a lot of raking to be done; fine. (Thats the only raking it will get until probably late June-I mulch.) Then I started in weeding my largest streetside front bed. Oh Christ. Monster dandelions and canary grass and aw fuck, y'all.

I decided to run the mower over this stuff so that I could rake it all up together and put it all into the compost immediately and not have to worry about having it grow.
Which stalled out the mower. Repeatedly.
There I was fighting with the mower in front of God and everyone as the manure tankers went blasting past, cursing at the mower, tugging on the mower, cleaning out the chute, running the starter, dicking with the choke, getting covered with green yechh, this is such a genteel and ladylike hobby; gardening.

Another thing I noticed ( as did half the rural population of Whatcom County) is that there parts of me in vigorous jiggerous action as the mower chugs along that hithero have not been. I hesitate to imagine what this much look like as I whiz around my bumpy yard on the second highest speed setting. I've always been bountifully boobed...but I've never had those flubby hip dojobbies before and I've never had a bottom at all. It's always been a straight run down the back from the shoulderblades to the calves. Now, suddenly, I have an ass. And it feels STRANGE. It wibbles. I have never felt this before. I keep stopping in the supermarket and looking around like a farting dog.

Am I painting too vivid a picture here?

Well, nothing is going to get the lard off me like gardening will, and I'll get a tan, too.
So thats my weekend all lined out.