I Used to Cut Grass

Yeah. It’s true. I started a lawn care service way, way back in 1995. I called it Mowgirl Lawn Care. That’s because all my friends would see me being dragged behind an 18 HP, 36″ Snapper mower, and I’d be sweaty and dirty and a girl. Based on these astute observations, some witty onlooker came up with the oh-so-creative title, Mowgirl, and it stuck. If I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work, covered in grass clippings, a trail of mud and leaves in my wake as I navigated the aisles, inevitably someone would cry out, “Hey look! There goes Mowgirl!” At the gas station while filling up my tattered Suburban with the cheapest unleaded available, some rando would pull up beside me, glance over and blurt, “Mowgirl! How’s it going? You still cutting grass?” No one in Cocoa Beach knew my real name. My kids introduced me to their friends like this: “Hey you guys. This is my mom, Mowgirl. You can call her Lisa but no one else does.” Even my parents used the moniker when addressing me. WTF? 

Well before 1995 I was a self-proclaimed writer. I scribed copious short stories and poems. I enrolled in several creative writing courses at the local community college. I attended writer’s workshops and even took first place in the annual short fiction contest hosted by the Space Coast Writer’s Group.  

My stories were published in several literary magazines as well as some newspapers. A scout representing the Sally Jesse Raphael Show read one of my articles and I was invited to appear on the show. I’m guessing not many of you are familiar with her talk show. It was stupid and lame, which of course made it popular. But like all dinosaurs, it dropped dead.  

All this begs the question, how the hell did I end up cutting grass? Let’s explore that topic in my next blog. I’m hungry. I need an omelet. 

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