Many years ago after being scolded for saying to our mom, "Don't tell me what to do, young lady!" my brother changed his response to, "Don't tell M what to do!"
What does this have to do with flying a plane? I'll tell you. Hahaha, just kidding.
Whilst my mother was visiting her homeland (not Sacramento) I went to mow my parents' lawn. My father supposes the ground is more like a sieve than a sponge and thus requires phenomenal amounts of water in order to fill that sieve. Standing pools of water are not an indicator of saturation.
As you might guess, the grass is never dry, fairly anemic, and quite long. As you might also guess, the lawn mower has a hard time with long,wet grass. Anemic grass has no effect on mower function.
As I mowed the first row, my dad motioned for me to come over. "You're not running the engine fast enough." It's on maximum speed.
On the second pass he motioned for me to stop again. "When you're mulching there should be a plug in the blower hole." I checked before I started, it's in there. "Lift up the flap so I can see."
Third pass, he stops me again. "You're walking too fast." Seriously now, I'm considering a new mowing pattern that keeps me on the far side of the yard where I can't see him motioning for me to stop!
Fourth pass--I'm not looking up, pretending I don't see him waving me down. I get to the pavement, can't turn around without running over my dad, must stop. "The lever's not fully in the high-speed position."
Aaagh! Don't tell M what to do!
Maybe it's all part of the conspiracy.
Once he wanted me to use 2x4's to make a square border around a plant. I think I quit after the third time I'd nailed it together, dug a trench for it to sit recessed an inch in the ground, taken it out re-hammered it, re-trenched, etc. We're an up-tight bunch.
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