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My Profile
Gift from Hil Part 2 - 2014-12-30
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9:45 a.m. - 2010-05-24
That's twice now in as many days that my front door bell rang. Startling as all get out, we never get unexpected company. On Saturday morning when the doorbell went off I assumed it was religious solicitors. I've made it clear to both the Mormons and the Jehovah's Witnesses that they are NOT welcome. Peddling their life's mainstay, their VIP God as though He is just some lousy Amway product is disgusting to me. Truly. I'm an atheist, but if I did have a God the last fricken thing I'd do is cheapen Him by going door-to-door and shilling Him like He's a heavenly Sham-Wow. I'd have more respect. Btw, the wandering God peddlers DO have a 'do not disturb' list, you have to be VERY insistent about it, but eventually they relent and take you off their potential client list and leave you alone. This has to be reestablished every 5 or 6 years though, because they come back claiming with wide innocent eyes that there'd been a personnel change, they're new around here and didn't know. Jerks. So I stomped off to the front door ready to give those disrespectful twerps a harsh lesson about No! meaning NO! and was brought up short by finding Mick's sister and her husband standing on the stoop. The both of them breathing heavy and running sweat. That was unexpected. They had their helmets tucked under their arms and their bikes were leaning up against the maple tree, SIL and BIL were participating in a fundraiser bike marathon. I'd already seen tons of cyclists going past the house and had exchanged cheery waves and hellos with several when I'd been outside earlier dinking around with the hanging baskets. SIL was getting leg cramps and had stopped by for some Gator-Ade. Which, fortunately, we had plenty of in the fridge. Funnily Mick had just gotten back from his own bike ride. Not a joiner, Mick hadn't signed up for the marathon. If asked he's glad enough to make a donation, but isn't one for group activities of any sort, even those for good causes. So there we were standing around in the kitchen, I am in my old lady housecoat and the three of them are in sweaty cycling outfits. They won by dint of majority and I felt like an oddball even though at 9:30 on a Saturday morning a housecoat is far more normal attire than spandex lederhosen with padded crotches. Then yesterday around 7:00pm the doorbell dings again and this time it's Flo from next-door. She's also a bit dewy-looking and breathing heavy. Though as she explained she was winded from the hike from her place to mine, it's not terribly far but my driveway is a bit steep. She'd come by to tell me she had a guy coming today to take down a huge tree near our shared property line and that branches and such would likely land on my side, but the guy promised to clean up behind himself. Okey-doke, not a prob. Did she want to come in for coffee or a cold drink? No thanks. She'd have called instead of dropping by but couldn't find a number for me. I explained I'd gotten rid of my land line a couple years back when it dawned on me that my cell phone made it extraneous and that I was basically paying $40.00 a month to be harassed by telemarketers. She laughed. We chatted about the big storm and the damage to our trees. She'd miss the big tree that's coming down today, in years past it'd made nice shade over her back deck, but the tree wasn't doing well and after the storm had gotten a rather scary lean to it, if it came down on its own it'd be smashing right into her house. I understood. Told her I'll be sorry to see that big old tree go too, but it made perfect sense to protect her house. Not to worry about the arborist and any leavings, our own guy is coming on Saturday and we'll be making with the chainsaws and wood chippers too. It was her turn to nod and sigh sadly when I swept my hand toward the shattered arborvitae and said it was all coming down. Damn shame, she said. That arborvitae had been there for the entire 50 years she'd lived in her house and it had already been old even when she'd moved in next-door as a new bride.
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