Why isn’t this woman’s name front and center when talking about heroes? Why didn’t I know about her before this post? How is that possible?
Tag: Mr. Rogers
Do you know where your eggs are?
Close Up of Unidentified Tree Frog on Pool Filter by C. Fickel
“How strange that Nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!” ~ Emily Dickinson
“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.” ~ John Burroughs
So I was floating around in the pool this afternoon while Corey was vacuuming, and we have sad news: Apparently the tree frog that has been living somewhere in our backyard deposited her eggs in the pool unbeknownst to us. We didn’t find out until all of the tadpoles surfaced when Corey added the chemicals to clean the pool.
One of the great things about having the tree frogs in our backyard is that I am certain that their singing probably drives our nosey neighbor nuts. She (the neighbor) is not a delightful individual, and I think that I can safely say that she finds our backyard habitats irksome. Oh well.
In case you are wondering why I have such an antipathy for this neighbor, let me give you a few examples of her less-than-neighborly actions: She once called the city on us because we had a compost pile. Her complaint? It was a rat harborage. The guy from the city who came to inspect our backyard was very nice and told me that he saw nothing wrong with our yard. When I asked who had complained, he said that he couldn’t really tell me, but if I watched where he went when he left our house, it would be pretty obvious who had called.
Yep. It was the nosey neighbor.
Another time, after a hurricane had demolished many trees and shrubs in the neighborhood and left most of the city without power for days, we had put the dead branches out by the curb as the city instructed. The city also said that there was no guarantee as to when they would be able to collect everything as there was so much destruction throughout the city.
Well, this particular neighbor didn’t like the fact that our branches were out for several weeks, even though we were following the city’s instructions, so she and her adult daughter took it upon themselves to place the branches in the back of Corey’s truck. We caught them in the act and asked them what they were doing.
Nothing. Like young children being caught stealing. Not us. Nothing. I don’t know.
Have to love the neighbors who spread that warm sense of community. Even kindly Mr. Rogers would not have liked these women.
But I digress . . .
“Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.” ~ Walt Whitman
So the tree frog tadpoles perished, which is a shame. But the pool was very relaxing today, and I enjoyed my diversion, even though both Tillie and Shakes were trying mightily to engage me in a game of water tennis. Because I would not throw the ball for them, they took turns jumping into the pool after dropping the ball into the water. I’m sure that it was a conspiracy led by the fat one. It’s hard to ignore a Labrador who swims around you and drops a tennis ball onto your float, but I did my best.
In spite of the dogs’ best efforts to distract me, I enjoyed the sounds of lapping water, occasional birds overhead, and the sweet, sweet smell of the last gardenia blooms on the bush.
Other than that, I have yet to tackle the baskets of clean clothes that are still blocking my way to my closet. The shoes are still in a pile by my feet, and the stack of papers perched precariously on my printer has not been touched.
One thing at a time. And having just concluded a telephone conversation with my ex, I don’t really feel up to tackling much of anything. He exhausts me. There is no other way to put it. Even when he is seemingly in a good mood, our conversations always seem vexing, and I finish them feeling as if I need a strong drink or a hot bath or both. So I’ll just eat a few cookies instead and try to put his testiness out of my mind.
But why oh why does he tell me things and then insist that he never said them? I mean, it’s not as if he’s on medication that affects his cognitive abilities. I have a theory that he is still trying to get me to crack under pressure.
Bothersome neighbors. Trying ex-spouses. Irksome laundry. My personal axis of evil. And technically, that should be ax-es, plural, but hey, why be picky about a phrase adopted by a president who spoke of OB/GYNs practicing love on their patients.
So with that in mind, I thought that I would leave you with this classic SNL skit: Will Ferrell as President Bush on the Growing Axis of Evil . . .
More later. Peace.