loading trucks

As we were growing up working in the greenhouses we used to get so frustrated with the other high school kids that were hired on for the summer. It seemed like they were always such wimps. One task that we all had to help with was loading the trucks with flowers that had been ordered and were being shipped out. It was dirty, hot, tiring and just plain hard work. We would joke that when we got married it would have to be to someone who could load a truck. Well, this Saturday I cut our grass for the first time since we've been in this house, and I was a little worried that I might not be up to loading trucks anymore. Granted, we have a cheap push mower that ate a lot of dust last summer when we had a little grass and lots of dirt in our last yard -- it kept coughing at me whenever I hit a thick patch of grass. And our lot now is about 3/4 of an acre. But still, my hands now have a line of blisters across my palms, and when I got done cutting the ditch bank I thought my legs weren't going to hold me up anymore. I couldn't help but laugh at myself and think what a comfortable life I'm leading. Things certainly are different for me now than they used to be when I was the daughter of a truck driver (that was my mom, not my dad =}) and the girl who didn't know what her fingernails would look like without dirt under them.