I’ll start with an update on Nosehair. I spoke to Nemesis today! He was standing in the street, looking back and forth between Nosehair and another tree right across the street. I bucked up all my courage and asked Nemesis, “Are you going to cut down another one?”
“Thinking about it,” he replied with an evil twinkle in his eye.
“Who’s cutting them down?” I asked.
“The City,” he replied, and with that he leapt into his truck and sped away, no doubt to tell “The City” that someone is on to them.
Stay tuned for further updates.
OH, my title – Is it Ironic? Or Are They Just Drumming Up Business?
You tell me: I came close to being run over by a hearse today. *raises one eyebrow*
Just a quick update today for those of you who are following my sad little story. I was standing with my back to Nosehair when I took these pictures today so he wouldn’t see the final moments of his neighbour standing tall (though I think he could still see over my head).
You can see the large parts of the trunk falling. While compared to the news of the world this is really nothing, I find it sad when these old trees come down. We’ve lost a few in the last year. Hopefully Nosehair won’t be next.
Kira suggested yesterday that Charles might send over some of his Windemere characters to help out with Nosehair’s cause, to avoid becoming one of my newspapers. Charles?
I figured out why my friend the Ent is crying. It’s tragic. Ent (otherwise known as Nosehair) must have known already.
If you click on the picture you’ll see that I’ve drawn a diagram. At the left is my friend Nosehair. (He’s a long lost relative of Treebeard.) At the top right hand corner of the picture is our nemesis.
They’re cutting down Nosehair’s neighbour!!!
I plan to give Nosehair a hug tomorrow when I go on my paper route.
I feel like Snow White around here sometimes, minus the seven little miners.
Spring cleaning, for me, is not a companionless task. See the debris all over my deck? The blue jays sat on the edge of my roof yesterday and flung it from my eavestroughs, scrounging for insects in amongst the leftover leaves from the fall.
This morning I caught this mangy little guy nibbling on the scraps.
There are so many things I want to know! The minutiae of details I’d like to put into my stories require a vast amount of research. While I enjoy doing most research, it’s not all easy. For instance, I’d dearly love to know enough about horticulture so that I don’t have to search for pictures in order to name the flora I can so easily envision.
Like this:
I’ve been living with this hedge for three and half years and do I know what it is? Not a clue.
I’m good with researching things like diseases, psychology, historical eras and objects, sexuality, (okay, that one’s fun), culture, geography – all kinds of things. But when it comes to botany…
It’s just real purdy.
(I did just look up the difference between horticulture and botany.)
You are unique. I know you wish you weren’t. I know you don’t want to be thought of as different, but the fact is that you are.
There are not thousands of you, or even hundreds. There is you.
No one else thinks the way you do. No one looks like you or sees the things you see in exactly the way you see them.
No one even smells like you; you are sweeter than the rest.
When you go, the people who have known you will grieve, but they will also learn to smile. They will remember the joy with which you illuminated everyone around you.
Be proud to be unique. And know that the way you touch the earth is precious.
But the real adventure didn’t start until we came across the lady playing catch with her unleashed dog.
Me: (holding Alex by both hands as the dog is running towards us) He’s afraid of dogs.
Lady: Oh, he’s friendly.
Me: But he’s afraid of dogs.
Bitch: (looking around me at Alex who is straining to see where the dog went) Does he want to pet him?
Me: (hanging on to Alex for dear life so he doesn’t run into traffic) No, he’s afraid of dogs.
Psycho bitch: But he’s smiling…
Me: (in my head) Hey fuckflap! Have you ever considered how shitty you would feel if a kid got run over by a car because of your friendly fucking dog that you won’t restrain because you obviously know my son better than I do? Wake the fuck up and listen to me! HE’S AFRAID OF FUCKING DOGS!!!
In reality I said nothing because the dog had run off again. I should have said something.
P.S. When I told my son you were moving he smiled but his eyes glazed over. He turned away and tried to hide the fact that he had to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes. I imagine he’s upset because he remembers the two times, at the beginning when you allowed him to come over and play baseball with your kids, and because he’ll miss watching them have fun while pretending to ignore him for your sake, surreptitiously waving to him when you weren’t looking. I wonder if your kids wonder why they didn’t get to say goodbye to him.
Now normally I’m not the vindictive type. I usually just let things go. But before my backdoor neighbour has a chance to move out (which she will any day) I’d love to be able to give her a little present in the form of a song.
Here is my letter:
Dear Natasha,
When I met you and became friends with you we had in common the fact that we both have children. You have six of them, which you repeatedly pointed out were little angels, I have a normal teenager who tends to swear (what teen doesn’t?) an autistic teenager who has tantrums, and a Deaf child who wants to be friends with your kids.
I didn’t really notice there was anything wrong with you until you commented on the fact that you’d traveled all over the world but would never go to a country like Japan because they weren’t Christian there.
After a few weeks of summer break that year, and after having lent you all my DVD’s that teach kids how to speak American Sign Language in a fun way, you gave them back to me, saying that your children weren’t interested in playing with my son (they showed no indications that they felt this way) because of the way he showed his enthusiasm for actually having friends his own age by looking into your back yard and screaming with delight when he saw your kids doing something fun. You then went on to explain to me that I needed to teach him how to behave himself… after all, you didn’t have any problems making your kids behave.
So, Natasha, I leave you with this song. The heathen I am. And a big nakayubi to you.
No love,
Linda
To my readers: Please note, when (and if) you listen to this wonderful gem, the chanting at around 2:19. Apart from the fact that I can imagine myself singing along at the top of my lungs exactly the way Sakurai Atsushi belts it out from on top of the table on my deck, my teenaged son and a few of his friends (if I have my way) would be trudging slowly around a bonfire in my back yard, fully cloaked in robes with pointy hoods. Please also note that the lyrics don’t matter. It’s the thought that counts.
