Uncle John and I hung out with AnonD, her hubby R and their 3 chocolate labs Saturday. It was a day of firsts, some gardening, some mockery and some old treasures revisited. Here's what happened:- I tried some pomegranate liquid. It tasted like if a grape and a blueberry had a baby.
(Also test drove this purple nail polish.)
That their wackadoo neighbor was 100% probably dead in her home. I couldn't fathom any other reason that a single lady's fence to her heavily wooded back yard would be open. AnonD mocked and attributed to my Po-po parents that I immediately, so naturally decided that they now lived next door to a dead body solely based on an open fence. I am very aware of my surroundings.
It turns out that their weirdo neighbor chick is still alive. And still lookin' a hot mess. I swear, I don't know why that lady insists on introducing herself to the world everyday lookin' that bad. I've always suspected she owns several too many cats and doilies. I donno. I was relieved to see her pull out of her driveway later in the day, as was R, who by now I had convinced that house next door would soon be available. (Sorry, R.)
I didn't hate it. But I'm probably never gonna plant any bulbs 'round these parts. Although, I can't wait to see what they become at AnonD's
- AnonD and I frightened a child.
Because my head is always on the swivel, I noticed some kid rounding the corner down yonder walking door to door. (I'm on everything in my parameter, people.) I showed the kid to AnonD as we were about to go inside, we decided to stay outside so that kid didn't have to have the livin' shit scared outta him when 250lbs of chocolate lab came to the door to say helloooooo. All d oh double g's are really well behaved, but let's face it, lotza people are afraid of large dogs. So because we're some fuckin' nice ass people instead, we stood in the yard chattin' as girls do. This kid, maybe 14ish. Goes to each and every house on our side of the street. Knocks on the house next door, comes down the driveway 4' from where we stand...and starts to walk the fuck across the street. Really. Reeally?!?
So if you know me, you know I'm not havin' that.
I sez to the kid, "are you sellin' sumthin'? Or..." as I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He tentatively comes back towards us and tells us he's going around with his dad who is painting addresses on the curbs for a donation, or whatever ya feel like paying. As AnonD and R are already set up, she declined. But the kid, once he decided we weren't going to lure him into the house with breadcrumbs and put him in the oven, he was very polite. A trait not as common place as it should be with kids these days (...wait, whaaaaat? Am I officially old enough to turn a "kids these days" phrase? Fuck. Damn you cold hard truth!)
I don't know about you, but I like to do what I can to promote good behavior out of kids. I'm just tryin' to be a good villager, ya know? So as he walked away I said loud enough that he could hear how polite he was. I think it's good for kids to hear.
After taking a wee break once we returned to the great outdoors I saw the dad walking/painting. As he walked on the other side of the street I found myself wanting to say something to him. But, because I'm o-l-d (remember the "kids these days" incident?), and couldn't reeeeeally see his face, I couldn't decide if I should "sir" him, or "dude" him (Ok, so I never say duuuuuude. Honestly, I'm more of a "hey mister" or "excuse me" type. Anyhoo...), I somehow ended up giving him the 'come here' finger waggle. Go bless the finger waggle. Works every time. He started across the street and I asked if he was that kid's father and he said he was and then I told him how mannerable he had been. Again, just 'cause you're a grown up doesn't mean you don't deserve a little acknowledgement of your good work too, right?
Honestly, until just a few years ago, I thought it was a wheelbarrel. (so much for that great Catholic school education, huh? They also didn't teach me what a foundry is. On the other hand the sheriff still talks about how cute I was in my "Catholic schoolgirl uniform", so there's that. --And yes, that does kinda creep me out to hear.) I was shocked to discover it was a barrow. None the less, there I am mastering it. Whoo-hoo! ...And being once again mocked that I have multiple sets of latex gloves in my car, "just in case". AnonD asked, in case of what? Fine. Really I donno. But if I ever roll up on some accident at least I won't be too afraid of contamination to do something, so suck it! all you people who'll have to let some stranger bleed out rather than get your hands covered in their bio hazmat juice. (If I'd had a penis, apparently, I would have made a fanfuckin'tastic Boy Scout. I am prepared for any glove necessary emergency. Latex merit badge please.)
They were soooo good! Yes, that's right, "they". You don't really think I just had one do ya? The count ended up being 4. And I was seriously considering purchasing Grenadine and 7-Up/Sprite for my own personal home gorging usage. Then I caught a glimpse of the back of the Grenadine label, which listed it's first ingredient as high fructose corn syrup. Even a BBG knows I probably shouldn't invite another opportunity for added high fructose corn syrup consumption into my body, or home. Yep. Look at me wearin' my big girl panties. See. It's not alllll ridiculous-ness. Sometimes there's a modicum of pragmatism.
Fine. It is mostly ridiculousness.
