Columnists
Crow's-Feet Chronicles: Affairs are not in order
By Cindy Baker Burnett
Apr 12, 2017
Print this page
Email this article

Temperatures are rising, grass is growing, and spring rains are “greening” up the foliage. My favorite pastime during April, May, June, and July is to sit inside the house and watch Lanny mow the lawn from my window. My idea of gardening is to put on a wide-brimmed hat and some old clothes. And with a hoe in one hand and a glass of peach iced tea in the other, I tell somebody else where to dig. I have mastered crabgrass, though. Not killing it---growing it. In fact, I can grow it on a bowling ball in a room with no sunlight or air. Interestingly, though, I haven't discovered a way to kill it that doesn't involve nuclear weapons. And bulbs? They're potential flowers that are buried in the fall, never to be seen again. Sigh. 

Lanny told me that if I buy one more hanging basket he would leave me. I'm going to miss that man. To Lanny, a perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. He suggested that the first step in preparing the soil for a garden is to borrow the neighbor's motorized garden tiller. “What if our neighbor doesn't own a garden tiller?” I asked Lanny.  

“Suggest that he buy one,” he answered. 

Twenty-three years ago I began dating Lanny. Shortly thereafter, I started falling in love with him. I knew I was in love by the way I felt: my head became light, my heart leaped within me, I felt like I was walking on air, and the whole world seemed like a wonderful and happy place. Unfortunately, I found that those were also the four warning signs of a colon disorder. 

Truthfully, I still love him dearly. Why, you ask? Well…he makes me laugh; he makes me think; and he makes me coffee. We women want to be loved, to be listened to, to be desired, to be respected, to be needed, to be trusted, and sometimes, just to be held. Lanny revealed to me in poetic verse that men simply want tickets to the World Series. 

Women are from lavender and men are from sagebrush. For a long time I thought Lanny heard only half of what I was saying. Later I realized that men listen with just the left brain, which, as everyone knows, is associated with analytical thought, reason, logic, and the ability to urinate outdoors. 

Most men have very little or no use for the right side of the brain, which contains information on family birthdays, anniversaries, Jared Jewelers sale dates, and a delightful hodgepodge of zesty and nutritious casserole recipes. 

Since we’re in the sunset of our years, it appears to me that we should talk about life’s passage and make some final-stretch plans. I told him that I think I might want to be cremated. 

He made an appointment for next Thursday.