Tree Rant or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
Posted: March 22, 2010 Filed under: Noxious Evils, Writers Write | Tags: Trusting Your Instincts, writers, writing Leave a comment »It’s big trash week. Twice a year the city has curbside brush pickup. Tree limbs, assorted non-toxic junk, scrap metal. It’s time to place it out by the curb so sanitation engineers can scoop it up and haul it off. Good. Right?
It is also the week where men with chainsaws in old Ford F-150s come out. They float the cul-de-sacs in my neighborhood, stalking trees to massacre. Let me explain. Twice a day for the past five days I’ve had this conversation:
Strange man rings my doorbell and bangs on my door.
Dog barks like she’s a lean, hungry doberman instead of a sleepy, chubby schnauzer.
I breathe deeply. Count to ten. Open the door.
Strange man extends his hand, “Hello Ma’am.”
“I don’t want my trees trimmed.”
Strange man’s hand is still extended. “How are you doing today, Ma’am?”
Dog growls, mouth foaming.
I don’t shake. ”I don’t want my trees trimmed.”
Strange man remains frozen, hand extended.
I shut the door.
Strange man treks back to his F-150. Drives to annoy the next unsuspecting live oak owner.
If I sound cold and unfriendly, it’s by design. Any encouragement means the heavy sell begins. I do not owe these gypsy tree trimmers an explanation. My trees are beautiful. They don’t need trimming. If they did, I wouldn’t hire a hack with a Black and Decker he bought off eBay. The trees are huge. He’d need a harness and a cherry picker to tackle the job.
Just because I have trees doesn’t mean I have to be nice.
Coco Crisp Update
Posted: March 21, 2010 Filed under: Joined at the Heart, Mouths of Babes, Writers Write | Tags: family, strabismus, writers, writing 2 Comments »
Coco looked in the mirror yesterday. “Mom, I look awful.”
“Don’t look. It’ll go away in a few days.”
She shrugged and moved on without obsessing, satisfied that I’d told her the truth. I wish I had that much self-control.
Her strabismus surgery took longer than expected–almost two hours. She is a tough kid. She never tossed her cookies–several of the kids in post-op did–and, she hasn’t asked for even one dose of Tylenol. Her eyes are red and swollen. She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and then hopefully, she will go back to school. But she’ll miss P.E. and outdoor recess. She can’t have any mean boys poke her in the eye with sticks. (That actually happened the second day of kindergarten. He was suspended from school.)
About the surgery, she said, “I’m never doing that again.”
I hope she doesn’t have to because when Coco makes that kind of statement, she means it.
Transitional Devices
Posted: March 15, 2010 Filed under: Housekeeping, Joined at the Heart, Mouths of Babes, Writers Write | Tags: family, writers, writing Leave a comment »We know a time is coming when we will be able to: replace the broken dishwasher, install a new garage door opener, buy organic. We aren’t there yet, but soon. Soon the Crispies will cash a paycheck and join the middle class again. It’s thought provoking. Transformational. But first, week two:
Bacon is a quality inspector for a major automobile manufacturer that will remain nameless because . . . this is my blog, and I don’t want a million hits from people mad about their brakes. There. I’ve said too much. He had a great week. We are happy and oh-so-relieved.
Coco is nervous. We’ve heard, “You have to play with me, let me pick the movie, buy me ice cream because I’m having eye surgery.” Always the opportunist, she is going to be just fine.
Cherry is happy to have spring break this week.
I have the next seven months of writing days scheduled. And. I have to figure out how to get wallpaper unstuck from the bathroom wall, so it can be painted. This is harder than seven months of writing. I’ve given up twice. I even bought a thimbleful of paint to see if it would cover the paper. It doesn’t. As soon as Coco has recovered, I’ll be exploring more options in wallpaper removal products.
I leave you with this thought: You know you are in transition when your husband accidentally puts Metamucil in his coffee. You know it’s serious when he drinks the coffee anyway.
