Well, there’s no backing out now. We cut out the sod for the backyard landscaping today. The cutting was relatively easy, thanks to the rented cutter – worth its weight in GOLD, my friends. Removing the cut sod, however, was insane. What seemed like a rather smallish landscaping area (we had thought it would be bigger), turned into a billion wheelbarrow trips and two pairs of hands that can no longer grip anything larger than a bottle of booze. We are so grateful that the reality wasn’t as big as our mental picture. It’s fine the way it is. In fact, we now think it’s freakin’ huge. Did you know sod was that heavy? ‘Cause I sure didn’t. Holy canolies. But, it’s supposed to rain tonight, so we had to get it all done once we started. If we have any strength left tomorrow, we’ll put in the bed edging and call it a day. The plants arrive on Monday.

My parents divorced when I was a teenager and so I grew up living primarily with my mother on one end of the country and spending summers with my dad on the other. Both parents eventually started dating again, as social creatures are wont to do. In my dad’s case, I didn’t hold anything against the fact that he was dating or feel threatened by the women he chose; they seemed like normal, well-adjusted people. I just didn’t really care to get to know them. They were transitory and I preferred to curl up with a good book.

And then, when I was in college, he met SuperChef. There was something different about this one. I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, but somehow she was more real than the others. Here, at last, was a legitimate contender for my father’s affection and I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. By now I was old enough to know better than to think that his relationship with her would take anything away from his relationship with me or serve as any kind of attempt to supplant my own mother. Nor did I harbor any misplaced fantasies about my parents ever getting back together. And yet.

She was friendly, if seriously high strung (running a small restaurant with a crazy partner will do that to you) and a little weird (I mean, who serves fish for Thanksgiving dinner?!), but not pushy. She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me on a personal level and was clearly affected by my somewhat less than charitable response. You see, I didn’t like shopping, so it never occurred to me that an invitation to go on a trip for that express purpose was really an attempt at bonding. I just thought it was a waste of good reading time. Of course, it didn’t help that shortly before that invitation I had accidentally heard her and my dad having sex in the next room. Yeah, sure, it’s natural; there’s nothing wrong with it, blah, blah, blah. But seriously? Ew. Nobody wants to hear their parents doing that stuff. Scarred. For. Life.

Looking back, I think the thing that bothered me the most was that she brought a child of her own into the equation and not just any child, but a well-mannered, intelligent son. My dad only had daughters and, while I loved him for raising us riding motorcycles and helping him out in the shop, what man doesn’t want a son at least a little bit somewhere in his secret heart of hearts? SuperChef wasn’t the issue; I felt like I was being replaced by her son. It was all in my head, of course, but it took me a good while to come to terms with it.

Eventually, Dad and SuperChef married and I began the painfully slow process of crawling out of my shell and adjusting to new family members. I still think she’s kooky, but now I get it. She is one of those rare people who absolutely, truly has no desire to follow a crowd just because it’s comfortable to do so. If she makes a decision about something, it’s because she’s done the research and come to her own conclusion about it. And she researches EVERYTHING. It’s hard work being so completely aware of your surroundings and how your choices affect others. It looks exhausting, not to mention expensive. But how amazing would it be to be able to live your life with a truly clear conscience?