Things that go bump in Broad Daylight

I'm not sure if Mercury's in retrograde, if there's been a continuous full moon, or if I'm just going through a clumsy phase. There are others in my life that are having bouts of bad luck so I guess it could be the moon and the stars; with my luck though, it's probably a full on clumsy stage in my life. Let's hope it doesn’t last too long.

It started with bruises on my legs and arms that I couldn't account for. I wasn't exactly sure when or how I got them. My lunch buddies suggested I might be drinking too much but I assured them I wasn't drinking any more than normal (thankfully they didn't ask me to define "normal"). When I started paying attention, I realized that I was accidentally bumping into coffee tables, chairs, corners, other people and rose bushes. It went from those minor bodily thumps to glass collisions. I'd do the dishes, break a wine glass; do the dishes, break a drinking glass; do the dishes, break a vase. We're now down to two non-matching wine glasses (besides the ones we bought from Cost Plus World Market for cheap and the ones from Doc. B.'s mom – though I'm pretty sure I'm responsible for having broken some of those in the recent past as well).

With this spell of flailing fragility, it wasn't a surprise when I scraped the side of my beloved little silver (dump) truck. Yup, I was turning into a parking space and cut it too close - too close to a huge cement pylon that is. I'm mad, annoyed at my clumsiness, and disappointed when I break things...but scraping my truck was different. This is a 7 year old truck, formerly in perfect condition, with only 25,000 miles on it, that we were recently considering selling so that we could put the cash toward a new car. It didn't have one single flaw in it other than what it came with, or should I say what it didn't come with. Sure, I had to roll down the windows by hand, there weren't any car mats (and I'd been too lazy to purchase any) and I only had AM/FM music selections. But it was paid for and it many times over earned its name: The Wheelbarrow.

The reason the truck has so few miles on it – it stays in the driveway while I take MARTA to work every day. It just sits there patiently waiting for me to load it with mulch, loan it to a friend, drive to my once a month haircut and color, or speed up I-75 to my bi-annual dentist appointments ("speed" is of course relative when you are in a Ford Ranger). So it was an unusual day in its life when it was parked out on the street last week. We were having some rocks delivered and the only place to put them was at the end of our narrow driveway – so the truck had to be out of the way. When I came home from work that night, our neighbor came running over to inform us that the truck had been hit. A repairman at their house that day had backed out of their driveway right into the side of the truck. If only I had parked the truck the other way, the new dent would have been smack dab on top of the section I scraped. But alas, no such luck. This truck, that was in mint condition just a few weeks earlier, now had a dent on one side and a scrape on the other.

The repairman's company was very helpful. They agreed to pay for the dent repair and for a rental car while it was in the shop. So Doc. B. took it for estimates and discovered that we'll actually be getting my scrape repaired less expensively because a bunch of the labor can be rolled into the dented side (they have to remove the back end of the truck, match paint colors, etc. - all things they would have had to do to repair either side).

So, when it's all said and done, I don't know if this is good luck or bad luck? I guess its good luck in that I'm sitting here in Hilton Head while Doc. B. is handling the repairs. Thanks Doc. B. but I wish you were here!

(Don't) Bring me a Shrubbery

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIV4poUZAQo&feature=fvw

The view from the front porch (pre-shrub massacre)

The view from the front porch (post-shrub massacre)

I've wanted to get rid of the shrubbery at the front of our house since we bought this place ten years ago. Their upkeep is a ton of work with little enjoyment in return. Our 80 year old neighbor, Mrs. "Smith," has also wanted us to get rid of the bushes.  I keep telling her that Obama already did that.  Anyway, when Mrs. Smith gets the chance, she reminds us about when the previous owner’s wife planted those dang things (she doesn’t use the word "dang;" but it’s implied). Mrs. Smith has a hard enough time getting her van in and out of her driveway all on her own...then you add numerous blind spots tucked into those hedges and even her cataract glasses can't help her maneuver her vehicle out into the street.

So what have we been waiting for? The winning lottery ticket? “Curb Appeal: The Block” to show up in our front yard? A run-away MARTA bus to plow through the bank of shrubs? Any one of those choices would be quite acceptable, but the truth is, we just could never decide what to put in their place. A retaining wall? Rocks and plantings? A terrace? Okay, enough with all the question marks. We still don’t know what the heck is going to replace the shrubs. But like all good girls in Decatur, we just had the chainsaw sharpened and were looking for a reason to use it. As Doc. B. stared in her own version of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, other Decatur girls drove by pumping their fists, whistling and giving the thumbs up sign. Wait, I was at work while Doc. B. took on this task, so I guess I just made up that last part – I bet it did happen though.

I was so happy when I pulled into the driveway and saw what had been accomplished. I got right out there with my camera so that I could document the monumental moment. While I was out there, a neighbor commented on how Doc. B. was wielding that chainsaw – so see, I guess I was right about the pumping of fists. I can’t wait to start dreaming about what we’ll make of that space. In the meantime, there’s a stack of shrubbery in our backyard in case anyone needs to get past the Knights who say Nee.

Giving up the Paper

The Olympic gold medal men’s hockey game is on in the background as I re-type this (I’ve already lost it once in blogger – NEVER type in blogger, ALWAYS type in Word and then copy and paste it to blogger – you’ll save yourself some major headaches). Canada is tied with US at the moment. Wouldn’t it be nice to see the United States men out on the ice after the game…celebrating with cigars, PBR and champagne? I’m keeping my fingers crossed but it’s a bit difficult to type that way.

I spent the last hour taking the final few steps to rid my life of paper…I’m transferring birthdays and anniversaries from my pleather-bound calendar to a free iPhone application I just downloaded. This is a major step in my life and included passing on one of my annual traditions: going to the Office Depot to carefully pick out a weekly-tabbed Day Runner with a yearly overview, address book, birthday reminder sheet and a list of international holidays. I tried this "getting rid of paper" thing once before in my life and swore I would never put all of my chickens in the same coop ever again. At least as long as I knew darned well that there was a raccoon around that could take them all down in one bite. Back in the 90’s I converted my life to a Palm Pilot – what a mistake since God was clearly not my Palm Co-Pilot. I promptly lost everything when it crashed, rolled and burned – nothing, not even my grandmother’s address and phone number, was pulled out alive.

Of course I won’t be able to completely give up on paper for a few reasons:

1. My writing utensil fetish. I love a good pen or pencil. Anything from a Sharpie to a fountain pen. My favorite is a black flair felt tip since that’s what my Dad always used at work and to draw his famous dog. I guess a Sharpie is my second favorite since Dad always has one in his pocket (right next to the box-cutters and rubber band wallet).

2. My attachment to mail. I love receiving cards. I’ll sift through all of the junk mail with no problems if I think that mailbox has a card in it. Hanukkah, Kwanza, Valentine’s, Confederate Memorial Holiday, I don’t care. Just send me a card with some handwriting in it. And heaven help our crazy mail lady if it’s my birthday and she decides to skip our mailbox just because a car is parked in front of it. I’ll chase her down like a dog.

3. Clippings from mom. Life would not be the same if I didn’t receive articles from the Ad-Visor, Marshall Evening Chronicle or Battle Creek News that were lovingly cut with left-handed pinking shears. Sure, I can read the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and Atlanta Urinal and Constipation on my iPhone, but it’s not the same as receiving an article from mom that she thought I would like.

4. My love of lines. I can’t live without graph paper, journals, diaries, legal pads, composition books, and post-it notes. I love to write, with a cool pen, on paper.

So, we’re in overtime now in the Olympic hockey game. Guess I’ll watch it so that I don’t have to read about it tomorrow in the paper…