I’m A Hoer

I admit it.  I’m a hoer.  Now that the weather is beginning to cool off, I’ll soon pack it in for the winter, because it’s pretty much a fair-weather pastime for me.  But most nice warm days in the summer, you can find me by the side of the road, waving at all the passing cars.

A few weeks ago, I even caused an accident because drivers were gawking at me.  That’s no mean achievement, when you consider the fact that I was out in the middle of nowhere, and the average traffic load on that road is about one car an hour.

I’m talking, of course, about hoeing my garden.  Wait, what were you thinking…?

And before you ask, no, I wasn’t wearing anything gawk-worthy.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Dirty, baggy jeans and T-shirt, with a too-big long-sleeved shirt over top, along with my white Stetson (I’m from Calgary, I can get away with it) and a pair of geeky sunglasses.

I have a big vegetable garden by the side of the road at our acreage outside town.  I don’t know what the protocol is these days, but when I grew up in the country, you waved to passing cars, whether you knew the driver or not.  So I waved, as usual.

Apparently, the two drivers were lost, and the one in front decided to stop and ask for directions at the same time as the one behind turned to wave at me.

Seconds later, there was a crash, and then I was gawping like an idiot at the sight of two cars mashed together on an abandoned gravel road in the middle of nowhere.  Pandemonium ensued as one of the passengers went into hysterics.

I’ve never actually witnessed hysterics in real life.  If I get a Chrysler suppository or some other unpleasant shock, I’m more the ‘swear-loudly-and-hit-something’ type.  So observing hysterics first-hand was… enlightening.

Fortunately, nobody was hurt, the drivers apparently remained friends, and the two cars limped off into the sunset.  I think I heard one of the drivers mutter something about giving up and going home.  I stood there, hoe in hand, feeling vaguely guilty about the whole thing.

I’ve heard that hoeing is a dangerous undertaking, and now I understand why.  So if you happen to pass a badly-dressed middle-aged woman working in her garden in the country, please don’t be offended if I don’t wave.

Just throw money.  I’m a hoer, after all.

19 Comments

Filed under Humour, Life

19 responses to “I’m A Hoer

  1. Pingback: The Happy Hoer | Diane Henders

  2. Pingback: I’m Not An Idiot. Really. | Diane Henders

  3. The only garden that gets along with me is a beer garden. I love gardening of that sort ;P

    Happy hoering!

    Like

  4. You know, with this post you have firmly and irrevocably determined what a man means when he pays you a compliment: http://www.biguglymandoll.com/?p=412

    Like

  5. That is so ironically funny! I am glad that I am not, and never have been, a hoer.

    Like

  6. Thanks for the visit and I think you’re interesting. Looking forward to reading more!

    Like

  7. I too am a hoer! It releaves my stress.

    Like

  8. Androgoth

    You know there is nothing quite like a bit of gardening is there Dianne, well there is but I can’t be mentioning it on my very first visit, and don’t be worrying about my second visit either because I won’t steer anywhere near that painting and decorating mention… 🙂

    Oh did you think that I meant something else? 🙂 lol No I am just too nice for that as you will see if you would like to venture into My Gothic Realm, and don’t be worrying about all the creepy Skeletons and other Ghoulish characters as I always lock them up when a new visitor calls by, okay there might be the odd Bat flying around or a Wayward Ghoul trying his luck but NO… You will be completely safe…

    Do have an excellent rest of day / evening now 🙂

    Androgoth

    Like

  9. I tried hoering for money once, nobody was interested. :\

    But it’s no wonder those cars crashed- with those clothes you were wearing, you must’ve been really HOT! Sweaty, even. 😉

    Like

  10. Excellent! Don’t stop your hoering.

    Like

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s