Meet our gardener - Mr. Long

5 foot 2 inches tall. Weight 75 pounds. Speaks in broken sentences. Can do that cigarette hanging out of the mouth trick while he talks, mows the lawns and drives his truck. Nicest guy...
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We have a busy weekend planned so I thought it made sense to have our gardener come Friday instead of the weekend. I call the number on his card and ask for him.

"Long not here... he dead... died in car crash" Excuse me!
"Long not here... he dead already. We're you a customer?"

Yes and I'm sorry to hear that. Click. She hangs up on me.

I'm shocked, embarrassed and sad. Margaret starts searching online for an obituary. 30 seconds later the phone rings.

"Were you a customer" Yes we were.
"When do you want him to come?" Excuse me?!?! I thought he was dead.
"We got into argument. I'm mad at him so I just said that" Why don't you have him call me?

Mr Long calls and in a sheepish, broken English, way explains that she was mad.
"That's my woman, that's my woman"

He shows up and does his usual masterful job on our lawn. I tried to get a picture of him to post on the blog but, after spending 10 minutes chasing him around the house like the CIA trying to get a shot (my kids cracking up the whole time), my camera has a technology melt down. I'm sure the Elk Grove PD would have wanted the picture just in case something happens to him...