My first job

When I get up in the mornings, my first job is to get outside and do whatever needs to be done.  Before the temperature gets up to 85 degrees.  Which means I have to get out there very early!

While it is still foggy.

But, well after I have had my coffee.  First things first.

This morning while I was riding on the mower I remembered my first job.  The summer between fourth and fifth grades I got a job cutting our neighbor's grass.  The memory of doing this has always been with me, but until this morning it never registered in my brain that I had a paying job when I was ten years old!

That was also the year that I put a penny on the railroad track behind our house to see if it would get flat.  It did.  It was the year that Dad had a remote controlled airplane with a wind-up propeller and when he taught me how to do the wind up I let go too soon and the blades cut my forefinger on my right hand.  I still have the five little scars on that finger where the blade cut me as it unwound.  And it was the year that one day when I didn't feel like going to school, Mom took my temperature right after I had drunk some hot chocolate.  Not surprisingly, my temp was horribly high and I got to stay home.  I knew why it was high, but didn't mention the hot chocolate to Mom.

Until now.

(Hi, Mom!)