Friday, December 4, 2009

Stupid ass commercials


I hate people in jewelry commercials.


The wives, husbands, even the sleeping children; why don't they all just shut the hell up and rethink their cultivated existences. Get over yourselves! Then go to hell!


The manipulative tone of expectation and praise for choosing a particular store or stone is offensive. The woman's reaction is nothing short of Pavlovian in these scenes. Teary eyed and sentimental, she seems to have reached some sort of goal she set long ago. Life is finally paying off for her, and she repays her husband's "expression of love" with physical affection. You know, like a prostitute.


The notion of a husband giving his wife an expensive piece of jewelry is equivalent to a bribe. Through out the year, most commercials depicting husbands and wives illustrate an intellectually imbalanced relationship, strained by children, responsibility, incompetence, irrational spending or obsessions with sports or technology; never expressions of true compatibility! Are there commercials featuring men and women that doesn't exploit ideas of their personal conflict and miseries? Isn't that the precedent set in these "types" of advertisements? Then WHY during the Christmas season are things so great between husbands and wives? All of the crap of the year seems to fade along with the smelly socks, the chainsaw snore, the "know it all" looks of disapproval; are consumers supposed to just forget all that stuff? All those grilling accidents? Those credit card shopping sprees and broken 52 inch plasma screen TVs cause you did it wrong? Forgetting to pick up the kids? That 30 pounds gained? That nagging depression? That humiliating erectile dysfunction?


Now that it's Christmas we are supposed to believe that we are happy after all, deserving of expensive trinkets made of minerals extracted from illegitimate governments, mined by displaced children. We are suddenly happy with our mates during this season, compelled to reward them with these tokens, knowing that if we continue faking the smile, we will either get one or get some. That's what love is, right?


I really, really hate those bastardly commercials. And almost all others, too. The day that I see myself in one of those "wife" characters is the day I sign up for the Deepak Chopra workshop tour and throw the TV in the sinkhole. I don't want to do that because I really like the new Fox show, Fringe, but it would be worth it.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Leesearch

Ever since we told Lee that I was expecting he has sorta disappeared. I still saw him around, but he was definitely keeping a distance from me and Fox during the day. Peace settled into my yard, and I relished my newfound ability to exit my home without facing an emotionally charged monologue about flying helicopters in Naam. He did flag me down one day as I was pulling out of the driveway; he handed me a change purse full of pennies and asked if I would go to the tobacco shop to get him a pack of Red Cap tobacco. I asked "Red Hat"?, and he turned and yelled;

"CAP, RED CAP, not hat, CAP"

as he pantomimed putting on and removing a hat. Other than that one occasion I hadn't encountered him on a conversational level in weeks. This all ended yesterday.

Fox and I were outside playing in the yard when I noticed smoke billowing into the tree tops around me. Since Fox has really made progress with mastering a bic lighter, and since the smoke was so near I figured Fox was responsible for the fire. I hopped up and assumed my "angry face", heading towards where Fox was huddled, and realized that he hadn't started a fire. I peeked over the shrub and saw Lee fanning a massive pile of leafy brush with a piece of poster board. It was popping and snapping, emitting opaque smoke which spanned the entire street, but was concentrated in Lee's immediate vicinity. It looked like he was in music video.

He did the thing where he just starts talking as if you were already engaged in conversation, and I smiled and nodded to keep up. I realized that he was inviting me to his house to see a clock he made out of a sprocket and beer caps. Fox was going nuts trying to get into the fire, so I pulled him away and into Lee's house to see his creation. Basically, Lee had bought a clock, removed the hands and attached them to the center of a bicycle sprocket. Sorta like this:



First he showed me the sprocket clock, then he called attention to the "parts" clock which he had painted hands onto the face frozen at 4:20. He was equally pleased with that clock.

We left his house and Fox and I returned to playing, and Lee to burning green branches.

A few minutes later Lee returned and asked me if Jason had ordered a book for him. I asked him about the book, and he told me it was written by a woman named Moore, and it was about her pictures of mystical orbs. I told him that I would look it up for him.
I was about to use that as an excuse to go inside for a while when he abruptly asked me another research related question.

"Did'jew listen to that Coast to Coast radio show last week? Tha'n bout th' Trixters?"

I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, so he started telling me about it.

"See they had dis guy on ere as uh guest name Chris O'Connor, or Chris O'Neal er somethin, but he got on the air an started a'makin fun uh me! Back in the 80s he was lookin' for all th' Ghost Dancers an Skin Dancers out west and he ask me t'take em, so I told em that I would do th' Ghost Dance an he could see for himself, but all he wanted t'do was all this decibel stuff with recorders an stuff. Ye'know he was like one uh these professor types not wantin' t'do the work jus wantin' tu write some big book! So I told em that I'd take him to meet some shamens and medicine men an he was givin' me a hard time, a callin' me a shafe shifter an some kinda weekend warrior an got mad an so I said "fuck this" so I went t'town tu that Goodwill store an bought $50 worth uh stuff: I got sum deer antlers an clear packin'tape an plastic wrap, so I put flour in th'plastic wrap an put it over my face real tight, an taped them antlers to my head, and got this piece of blue fabric wrapped'round my shoulders. See, I waz tryin' t'camoflage in with th'storm an fog. Then I got up on his roof with a brick on a rope an started walkin 'round the roof lettin' that brick bounce on the wall, then I stuck my head in his window an scared him so bad he come running naked out into the snow. I figgured that'n needed t'be scared."

I was thoroughly confused as to how this had anything to do with the radio show, and I asked;
"So the guest on the show talked about you on air"?

Lee excitedly replied
"Hell yeah he did! He was callin me all sorts uh shit some kind uh 'shafe shiffer' weekend indian! He was pissed off an all I was tryin t'do was help em out! After we wuz there I took em up Arizona where them people were diggen in walls makin houses, called 'cwiff dellers' er sumthin. Back when I wuz workin in commercials an TV an stuff I did all kinds uh shafe-shiptin' an was turnin into animals an doin photoshoots
an all. Hell! You SEEN one of um when I wus turned to a wolf! Remember that magazine ad I showed you? I done that an I done a car commercial as a bear that breaks in th' car an eats th' doughnuts...I don't like doin' it much though.
But I need you t'get on th'internet, look up google, an punch in Coast to Coast, and Trixters, an see if you can't get that episode loaded on a CD for me cuz I need t'listen to it again."

I was itching to go inside, so I acted real urgent-like about it and told him I'd check it out pronto:
The Tricksters - Shows - Coast to Coast AM

Shared via AddThis

I haven't had the time to listen to the stream yet, but I'm really looking forward to
putting the pieces together. I looked up the book he was referring to and this is the author, Rochelle Moore:
ROCHELLE MOORE author WITCH AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY Pictures, Images and Photos






I'm not sure what it all means, but Lee is definitely into the mystical realm of existence. If I can pin down which book he is interested in, and it's available on Amazon I will definitely get it.

Lee cracks me up so much! He is always asking me to search for bizarre stuff on the internet for him, and he scours the South Knoxville library's adult non-fiction section, which probably consists of fewer than a few thousand books.

Friday, August 21, 2009

the most unfortunate name

Robin Hood Pictures, Images and Photos


Last weekend my sister-in-law came to visit and brought a big bag of VHS movies for Fox to watch. Included in the sack was Walt Disney's Robin Hood, a film that my brother and I watched millions of times during the 80s. Since Robin Hood is portrayed as a Fox, I assumed my son would love it, but I had no idea that he would want to watch the movie twice a day, starting the moment he awoke.


It has been frustrating, but also fun to relive the humor and music. Tons of details emerge which I didn't notice as a child. For instance: the name of the man responsible for the voice of the Sheriff of Nottingham's name is Pat Buttram. What an unfortunate name. What a shame that my brother and I didn't notice that in the credits, as we weren't big credit readers at that time. Buttram. That's just plain awful.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Zucchini; getting creative with

The month of July brought many wonderful blessings and experiences my way. My son turned three years old on the sixth, my dresses have been selling at a consistent rate for once, and my garden has produced enough food to make a dent in the grocery bill. As we near July's end and I reflect on the past four weeks I wonder; just how much zucchini can one plant produce?


Make no mistake. I LOVE zucchini. But damn! Zucchini has been on my dinner plate at least five times a week this month. Imagining all the stir fried zucchini my family has consumed lately makes me feel vomitous and slippery. Picking the vegetable is all fun and games, then you bring it into the kitchen and see it on the counter with the other zucchini that you picked yesterday.. . It's enough to make you want to dig a hole and bury it from whence it came.


After coming inside this afternoon, this attitude began welling inside of me and I happened to glance at my mounting collection of vegetarian cookbooks. The thought of riffling through each one's index for zucchini recipes intensified the sick feeling, so I just braced myself and started cleaning and trimming the vegetables.

Photobucket


I thought of the experimental zucchini concoctions, both from recipe and free form, that I had tried this season and remembered each one's qualities, both pro and con. There was the old favorite: fried zucchini sticks with horseradish dip; delicious, but hardly a meal. Zucchini fritters; good, but not quite sweet or savory enough to constitute repeating so soon. Beth's amazing Zu-canoes; a killer recipe she found in a Moosewood book that had ten too many ingredients (wheat germ, cottage cheese, cooked brown rice) AND ten too many steps for me to manage. I suppose there's no need to mention the stir fry again. What I truly wanted was spaghetti, but I felt guilty preparing a meal I consider standby when I had twenty pounds of fresh herbs and produce on my counter top, already trimmed. Feeling sorry that I hadn't planted eggplants, an idea struck me. Zucchini Parmesan.


I started by grating half of a mutant sized zucchini (the size of my calf, in length and girth) and combining it with a grated carrot, chopped, fresh basil, rosemary and oregano, and five chopped garlic cloves. Then I added a teaspoon of sea salt and a ton of fresh grated pepper. I let it rest in the wide bowl at an angle, then drained the liquid that gathered in the corner.

Photobucket

At this point I threw in two small eggs, stirred it all up, then added enough white flour to make the remaining liquids into more of a batter.

Photobucket

Before the eggs were added I poured a quarter cup of corn oil into a heavy saute pan and let it get pretty hot while I finished the batter. After stirring in the flour I used a serving spoon to scoop the batter into the hot oil.

Photobucket

I let them cook a while to allow them to get crunchy and done all through, but turned the pan around a few times as my stove top is at a shittious, minute angle which makes everything cook unevenly.

Photobucket

I warmed up some canned tomato sauce and boiled spaghetti while the cakes fried.

PhotobucketPhotobucket

As I removed them from the hot oil, the cakes were placed on a cereal box to drain, and I topped each one with a bit of bland cheese. When I arranged the plates I put a scoopy-claw thing of spaghetti noodles, then a cake, then a ladle of sauce, then a ton of parmesan cheese, then crushed red pepper and an oregano flower. From start to finish this took around 40 minutes.

PhotobucketPhotobucket

Going heavy on the herbs was definitely key for the zucchini cakes, particularly the rosemary, which I normally refrain from using in excess. I once took rosemary and gouda quiche in to work to share and hardly anyone touched it. Offended, I asked my safety supervisor "what the hell" and he apologetically explained "Well, see, in Mexico that spice... Uhh.....What is it?"

"Rosemary?" I offered

"Yes! Rosemary!" he happily replied, "This is what we bury our dead in. Soooo..."


Say no more.
Since then I have been reluctant of rosemary in culinary usage for fear of an impromptu dining encounter with a Mexican.

This was a great usage of zucchini in an atypical way. Try it!

Monday, July 6, 2009

Ladyface, revealed

For those of you who recall my April 7th blog post Fountains and Fountains, you may remember mention of a certain sexually ambiguous neighbor who was affectionately referred to as Ladyface. More evidence has been unearthed about this swarthy, yet delicate individual.

Photobucket


I apologize in advance for these uncensored images.

Sometime after posting the aforementioned blog, my friend Beth told me that she had seen Ladyface at our neighborhood store, The Handy Dandy. I asked Beth if she got the impression that Ladyface was a man or a woman, and she felt confident that it was a man in women's clothing. Clothing, dangling earrings, and platform sandals, to be exact. Imagining Ladyface in the Handy Dandy all dolled up is enigmatic. This is the kind of store where they butcher and sell their own meat, and where cops hang out. Their top selling beer comes in 40 oz bottles, and most of their customers arrive on foot. The thought of an unabashed transvestite entering the establishment seems ballsey, if not slightly dangerous.


The following day Lee and I were driving to the comic book store so he could get "dis guy tuh buy me one uh dim five dollar foot longs", and on the way we drove past Ladyface's house where the fountain was spewing.
"Do you the man who lives in that house with the fountain?" I asked Lee.

"Hell yeah" Lee said in a low, "no duh" tone. "People says he's some kinda queer er sumthin. I don't give uh damn but whut th hell is he doin with that goddam warshin machine pump on thar? Can you imagine thu warter he's a waistin' jus to run that crap in his front fuckin yard"

Lee's tone and volume increased to a mid-high agitation level, and he elaborated:

"I mean, here's dis grown man spendin all his time'n money on some ugly warter pump with bricks an bullshit all over it; livin in thare with his BIG old momma! That says to me that shit ain't right with em. Them peoples CRAZY"

I was proud that Lee didn't rail the man for dressing like a woman or for his proposed homosexuality. Ladyface had logged at least 25 hours a week on that stupid fountain, and since he continually changed it, it was 25 hours a week from April to September for three consecutive summers. But the bottom like was that Lee was calling another CRAZY.

A few days later Jason and I were driving by and saw Ladyface relaxing around his house. We took these pictures.

Photobucket
Photobucket
Photobucket
Photobucket


I couldn't help but notice the pick in his pocket. I used to carry a pick like that when I got an 80s perm.

My neighborhood is the best. When a man feels this confident and natural while cross dressing, everyone else should just follow suit. No pun intended.


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Lee made me a meatloaf



Yesterday while Fox and I were working in the yard Lee popped his head out of his front door and unintelligibly yelled something about meat. His tone was urgent and as he emerged holding an oven mitt in one hand and an old, wadded up t-shirt in the other, I figured he was cooking. I asked what he needed, and with an impatient gesture complete with rolling eyes, he returned into his home without a verbal reply. I continued weeding around my tomatoes while Fox was busy in the sand box, and after a few minutes Lee reappeared at his door and started my way.

"I've got'chall uh meatloaf I made; jus tookit out uh thu oven."

Without having fully comprehended what he had said, I said "Yeah. Ok", like it was the most natural exchange that had ever occurred, ever in all time.

"What I did is chop up onions, maters, sweet peppers, sum carrots n beans(?), broccoli (??) then mixed it up real good with thu meat in my bean pot, then poured pizza sauce on top of it'n baked it 'bout 40 minutes. I made two of um; a big un an a small un"

Still unclear of what was going on, I said "Mmmm. That sounds weird".

He said that it was cooled off enough to bring it over, and he turned back towards his house. A couple of steps away he turned back and yelled (as if he were all the way back at his house, and there was a wind storm or a thunder storm like that scene from Back to the Future when Marty was trying to tell Doc about his future murder) "If I bring yall one of um will you cut me off enough for a sandwich?"

I nodded and watched him disappear, then became worried when I saw him returning with his pan and a hand full of sliced white bread.

"Go in'ere an git a knife!" Lee demanded.

Fox was interested in the pan and started asking Lee for "meat please"

I handed the knife to Lee, but he just shoved the pan of loaf towards me and acted like the knife was a live snake. I sliced the loaf with Lee's explicit direction, and realized that this was unlike the dish that mamma used to make. First of all the vegetables were in huge chunks. It looked like some concoction to be stuffed into something else. It didn't slice at all, but crumbled back into it's individual ingredients, leaving the appearance of a missing main dish. The "loaf" was surrounded by a lava lamp style mix of pizza sauce and grease in the bottom of a warped, Teflon frying pan sans handle.



I arranged the heel on Lee's slice of bread which he immediately topped with another slice, then wadded with such force that when he opened his hand it looked like a hot pocket. He handed me a slice of bread between his fingers as if it were the ace of spades, and commanded me to "make 'at boy uh sammich"

Fox had been caught earlier playing with a bag containing a quarter loaf of bread. He had mangled the bread, leaving it unusable for whole sandwiches, but decent for child-size benders. I brought the bag outside to where we were pick-nicking. I used Lee's bread for myself and made Fox a sandwich from his play time bread.

Like all of Lee's creations, the meatloaf was delicious. We sat in my driveway and ate . I noticed that when Lee eats he makes pained, grunting noises much like a person having a nightmare. After accidentally staring at him for too long, Lee glanced over at me and declared "it's the broccoli that makes it"

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

fountains and fountains

In the land of yard art, yard sales and the torch of independent spirit nothing seems to surprise me much. Everyone in my neighborhood has something extraneous in their yard, be it a makeshift water fountain, multi colored bottles poised on tree limbs, non-functional vehicles, or "sculptures" consisting of household refuse. The degree of the typical Tennessean's "mark" on their yards is exclusive to this place and time.
Since moving to my neighborhood in spring of 2006 I've kept an extensive mental journal detailing the most interesting yards in the area. Today I would like to investigate the two most notable water features.
I noticed the first case over a year ago when there was a warm spell in early March. There was a guy out in his yard lugging bricks to a section of his yard that bordered the busy, semi-retail/commercial street. He was thin and wiry with skin the color of a hot dog despite the season. His hair was long and stringy kinda like a metal front man's, and he was wearing women's, boot cut jeans. I saw him as I drove down the street going 35 mph and had just enough time to remark on the mysterious project he was hard at work on, and the extremely obese woman sitting on the front porch of his house.
The next day I took Fox to the park in his stroller. While he played I could hear someone tink, tink, tinking away at a masonry substrate, and the faint sound of rock music. Fox was getting sleepy and began to whine about chocolate milk, so I decided to treat him to a Mayfield Chug at the Handy Dandy Market. We strolled in and got the milk and Fox settled into the stroller with his treat. As we exited the store, I remembered the guy with the bricks and decided to walk another block so I could pass his yard. I slowed my pace to a hobble which would both make me look more authentically SoKnox (as most pedestrians hobble), and allow me a longer view of the yard without revealing myself as a Looky-loo.
The guy was out with his brick pile and a hammer and chisel removing cement from the bricks with meticulous care. His aviator glasses were dark and mirrored so I wasn't able to tell if he saw me coming; just to be safe I gave him a nod. He paused for a moment, then assuming he had just imagined my signal, looked back at the lumpy brick in his hand. He had started stacking the cleaned bricks in a rectangular column which was roughly two feet high. There were lots of PVC pipes and connectors laying around, and a large, blue tarp anchored by two orange traffic cones. His house looked like it was about 600 square feet, which made me understand why he wanted to maximize his yard by flexing his home-making muscles in the out of doors, and there was no sign of the big woman.
The entire scene was effectively burned into my mind-journal, and I started imagining what he was working on.
The next day Fox and I didn't go anywhere, and that night our friend and neighbor, Dan came over for a visit. "Have you seen that guy on South Haven?!" was the first thing to come out of his mouth!
Relieved that I wasn't becoming a socially deprived stalker, I excitedly compared notes with him and we shared our theories regarding the form and function of the dude's project. We were equally tantalized by this mystery, again, much to my relief.
Dan's wife Adrienne and I called or emailed each other daily with progress reports or interesting sightings at the man's home, and we finally realized what he was creating; a water feature.
He had lined the interior walls of the rectangular column with the tarp, and used extra bricks to weigh it down on the top rim. A water hose had been run through a PVC pipe with an "elbow" joiner on the end, so the water came out at an angle. The pressure was a bit too high and it looked like a geyser on the end of a stick, or a plumbing blow-out accident. In fact, I noticed a few of the bricks were pushed out from the pressure.
The following weekend Dan, Adrienne and I talked at great length about the fountain and it's attributes. The next day I drove by and the entire thing was disassembled! The bricks were all back in a tidy stack, the tarp back on the ground with the cones, and the piping on the tarp. I was more than disappointed. While shopping at the grocery store I thought about the fountain and how it hadn't been so bad! Just a little off! What possessed him to take the thing apart?
Driving home from the store I saw the man hard at work rebuilding the fountain, only this time he stacked the bricks side to side instead of end to end, and had painted the interior pale blue like the inside of a swimming pool. As soon as I got home I called Adrienne at work and told her about the progression. She promised to take that route home to see.
The next day Fox and I walked by the house and beheld the magic! The column was three feet high and the PVC water pipe was sticking straight up in the center of the basin. The pressure was still too high so now it really looked like a geyser! At 20 feet away on the other side of the road we could feel the over spray! Cars driving by were creeping by to get a look!
Over the next two weeks many revisions took place; two flood lights pointed at the water spray, a coat of blue enamel on the exposed PVC, and finally some orange and white "go vols" pom poms attached to the corners. It was almost more than I could bear; I had to meet this man.
We left for a long weekend in Asheville and when we returned everything was different, again. The column shape was gone and in exchange was a low, wide basin similar to the dimensions of a koi pond, and the pipe was so low to the ground it couldn't be seen by passers by. The flood lights had been mounted to two tobacco stakes placed behind the fountain, and the stakes were painted blue. The flood lights provided an interesting effect on the water, but a blinding one on my eyes when I was driving by after dark.
Each day was something new with the fountain. It provided us with tons of conversation and anticipation all summer long, then one day it was gone, replaced by the blue tarp and cones. By winter time there was no trace left of the fountain, neither brick nor pipe.
I had almost forgotten about the fountain till the other day when I saw it.


Photobucket
Photobucket



That satellite dish that you see there was inverted, forming a basin in the brick part and the water pipe was in the center. It was a-m-a-z-i-n-g! I was thrilled not only to see the fountain again, but to see the MORTAR between the bricks! It sure seemed permanent! When I took this picture I figured that he was working on the plumbing and was going to replace the satellite to it's original position.
Then the man exited his house with two mousy shi-zus trailing wearing his tight girl jeans, a baby doll midriff-bearing shirt, and carrying a bunch of junk.

Photobucket
Photobucket

Photobucket
Photobucket


It was then that I noticed something about this man that I never had before. He looked like a lady in the face.


Photobucket
"Ladyface"


I have studied these pictures at great length and magnification and I can't figure it out; is he a masculine lady or a soft-featured man? I can gather from the photos that there are: zero breasts

zero package bulge


there are lady jeans


scoop neck, midriff-bearing babydoll tee


manly back but without hair


lap dogs

biceps

has a lady face

Photobucket


As you can tell there are a few questions left unanswered.
While I was out I decided to check out the other contender in the "best water feature in SoKno" contest. Although it does deserve mention with it's mini Christmas tree and garland, it pales in comparison to the satellite idea. I will make an official decision when ladyface gets finished. Photobucket

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

baseball lesson

Photobucket
This morning while Fox and I were outside pulling weeds in the warm spring sunshine, Lee invited us over for strawberries. Fox took off running towards Lee's house and I thought about his inability to resist strawberries, chocolate or any other treat, and decided that it was time to have the "strangers with candy" talk with him.

We sat down at Lee's table as he moved about his small kitchen adding dashes and splashes from various bottles into a mixing bowl. He placed the bowl of shiny berries directly under my nose and listed the ingredients as he squeezed pancake syrup; "bout a quarter cup uh that cran grape juice, uh couple uh squirts uh 'at lime cocktail mix, three or four uh tablespoons uh sugar, an dis maple toppin'.

He set the syrup down and franticly spun around, bumping the table as he violently swung open the refrigerator door, and emerged with a container of berry flavored cream cheese. "Now dis is at bagel cream 'cept it's got berries in it an at's why it's purple" Lee scooped three ice cream sized scoops on top of the berries instructing me that "they jus needs a tablespoon er two to coat 'em", then proceeded to stir the lumps around and around through the sticky berries. He put three saucers down and three berries on each saucer and gave Fox and I the go ahead look before he ate his using a knife as a spear. They were delicious and Fox quickly became sugar wild.

Lee has a bumper pool game in the corner of his living room and Fox began removing the balls from the shelf and rolling them across the floor. We rolled them back forth for a while before Lee said "HEY Fox come out here an try dis baseball game I made"
The game consisted of an electrical cable wrapped around a branch of a tree with a wiffle ball and rope tied to it. He gave Fox the handle of a pool stick to use as a bat, and told him to hit the ball. Fox set the handle on the ground and started smacking the ball around and laughing hysterically, until the ball hit him in the chin. After trying to explain the game with no luck, Lee gave him a few lessons.

It was then that I decided to run and get my camera.

PhotobucketPhotobucket
Photobucket

While in my house getting the camera I remembered that Fox had a bat, so I got it out of his room and headed back to Lee's.

PhotobucketPhotobucket
Photobucket


Fox got tired of the baseball thing, and wanted to play with the pool balls again, so we went back inside and rolled those around a little bit more.

PhotobucketPhotobucket


Then Fox took a few pictures:

PhotobucketPhotobucket

spring in my yard

Photobucket

My yard is so nice in the spring time.

Photobucket

We have really old bulbs that the original owners planted, and they still provide a dazzling display when the weather warms.

Photobucket Photobucket
PhotobucketPhotobucket


Nothing is more satisfying than working in the garden!
Photobucket

Friday, March 6, 2009

Photobucket


Lee hadn't exited his house in four days when I saw him draw back the hot air balloon-printed curtain and peek out his front door at Fox and I, quickly releasing it when he saw my glance. Three minutes later he stepped onto his front landing wearing an unbuttoned shirt and a knit toboggan. The shirt seemed like a tiny rag hanging from his shoulders, gathering under his arms framing his protuberant belly.

A week ago his hot water heater stopped working and he came over to my house to take a "whores bath", which we called a "bird bath" in my house, but when you think about the key body parts in the process, "whores bath" is a more apt title. After he had rinsed his hair and put his clothes back on, Lee opened the door while he shaved and chatted. He hadn't put his belt back on yet, and I was shocked to see the impossible angle his belly created where it returned to his hip. The bottom of his overhanging belly was parallel with the floor, and created a sharp, right angle with his hip bone. Don't worry. I didn't stare. One glance and I will never forget the sight. Even when I was carrying a nine and a half pound baby Fox in my belly it wasn't that big. Why do some men have such off the chain bellies?

Lee scratched and stretched, then disappeared back into his house, reemerging with a steaming cup of coffee and a "rolly", which is a hand rolled cigarette. He slowly approached Fox and I, stopping here and there to look around at the wind blowing the trees. He had buttoned his shirt and I could tell that that particular shirt was soon becoming an openly wearable only type; the buttons were all mismatched colors at the midsection and they seemed to be under a great deal of strain.

I was pushing Fox on his swing and he was screaming so he didn't hear Lee approach. I noticed that Lee had something shoved in his back pocket that was making him walk funny.

"So do yall have one uh them VHS players or what?", Lee barked as if he had already asked me twenty times before. He pulled the item out of his pocket and it was a cover less VHS tape entitled "Winterland Scooby Doo" I told him that we did, and he went on to explain that he had bought that tape from "a guy who was hurtin with his rent" for Fox.

"It's pretty cool. I done watched it. Thares a few stories on 'at one tape an one's a Christmas-type story, an the rest are, well I wont give it away. It's CLEAN anyway"
Well that was a relief! I was wondering if he meant that it was a physically clean tape and relatively germ-free, or if he was referring to the content of the movie.

Fox had realized Lee was amidst and had began yelling Lee's name over and over. Lee pushed him for a while, then proclaimed, "I sware I could'uh cut'chore hair straighter with uh pan-knife than what 'at woman did! An how much you paid'er?"

I told him that we had traded goods for services, and he seemed satisfied. After I got my hair cut he started calling me by a different name. Something that sounded like "Asian-ninine". I had no idea what he was saying, and he was drunk. After realizing that he was doing it on purpose, not of disorientation I finally asked him why.

"You look like 'at spy Agent 99! You know! From 'at ol spy movie Get Smart!?" I lied and told him that I knew what he was talking about, relieved that he wasn't being derogatory towards Asian people.

Lee asked us what we were going to do today, and I said that since we were both under the weather that we would likely stick around the house and enjoy the warm temperatures. He said "em doctors say y'need at least fifteen minits'uh sunshine per day or you'll get all..." Lee was making the universal sign for crazy; winding his finger around and around right beside his head, and I told him that I believed it whole-heartedly.



Photobucket

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

sicko

Flu Pictures, Images and Photos

I'm sick. I'm ill. I'm spent. I'm all blah.

This is week 2 of my newest 2009 sickness and I'm fixin to loose it. Having the flu over Christmas and New Years should safeguard you from having it through out the entire next year, but I haven't so fortunate.
Last weekend the roof of my mouth started hurting and since I haven't been to the dentist in over a decade, I figured that I had finally gotten a cavity which would probably require a root canal or some crap. The pain continued, then my throat started stinging when I swallowed. Meanwhile Fox had started coughing and sneezing quantities of clear, watery mucus all over, so I thought he was having allergies, and I needed to make a dentist appointment.
The next day I woke up with the worst headache I have ever had, and my nose was entirely blocked. Fox was coughing, sneezing and acting like he was possessed by evil spirits, he was misbehaving so. Muscle pain, and the discomfort of trying to blow my nose and constant coughing kept me from getting comfortable. The sinus pressure and blockage took away my senses of smell, hearing, and taste, and made all of my teeth hurt. When I walked across the room my footsteps were silent, and I stopped eating. The sensations are similar to the effects of getting hit really hard upside the head. Poor Fox fell asleep on the couch and woke disoriented, confused by his sore body and the setting sun.

Flu Pictures, Images and Photos


That was last week, and we haven't improved much since then. Taking Ny-Qul and sleeping is the only reliable relief of a sickness such as this. Fox seems to feel good in the bath tub so he has been getting at least one bath each day. How torturous for a small child to be so sick without an adequate vocabulary to properly complain. All he can formulate is; "Foxy sick! Got mucus up'dere"

flu Pictures, Images and Photos


And he can't blow his nose yet! Sometimes he will accidentally blow it when no one is prepared with a handkerchief, but never on command. There will be so much goo in his nose that it cascades out and onto his upper lip while he, evidently, has no sensation of it. I feel obligated to stand behind him and wipe his nose every three to five minutes, and he writhes and whines whenever I do as if I were armed with a weapon. Needless to say the two of us are a sorry sight.
Hopefully we will improve with the weather. We have been going outside every day but our excursions haven't lasted long in the freezing air. Fox's water table was frozen solid this morning with a bunch of toys trapped under the surface. Fox peered at the toys, then looked at me with frustrated disappointment, as if it were my fault. We decided to swing instead which thrilled Fox, but when I got him out of the swing his face was lined with channels of snot all the way back to his ears, and I felt like a bad mom. We came inside and had leftover vegetable soup and read books.