My husband found four shrubs and a palm tree by the side of the road. Well, it’s not really a palm. It’s some kind of giant fern with a weird (PORN NAME ALERT!) hairy trunk. And it’s like four feet tall except now it’s dead. Or maybe it’s just resting, what do I know about plants?
We have some neighbors who have a lawn care business and generally leave the carcasses of shrubs and other assorted flora in the Designated Trash Spot which is the fence at the culvert. This is the best place in Memphis to find and leave Stuff. Chuck and his friend Alan hauled out our busted washing machine a few months ago and by the time they’d finished a beer to reward themselves for the manly job they’d done, the sucker was gone. I once saw this great end table and by the time I circled back around to pick it up, it was gone. I saw a middle aged woman in a Mercedes sedan try to pick up two club chairs and put them in her trunk. It’s like the FAO Schwarz of junk. On Black Friday.
I don’t know why these particular plants were put out to pasture. They were all healthy. The four shrubs have been sitting in their pots in front of Chuck’s garden forming a nice hedgerow. But it’s Christmas and I’m Southern. By law, I must decorate the house in some fashion. Usually, I just put a ribbon around a bottle of Jim Beam and call it a day. This morning I stuck a shrub in the ice cream freezer.
Part of Chuck’s dowry was a White Mountain ice cream freezer. You know the one. Wooden bucket, loud motor. He comes from a big ice cream-making clan, but that’s another post. Believe me. I really liked the bucket and being a gal on a budget, I stuck it at my front door and threw some greenery in it. It looked really cool. Then, of course, I let the greenery turn brown. You’ll know my house by the ice cream freezer full of sticks decorating the front porch. Oh, and spring before last a squirrel nested in it. So that was nifty.
But this morning I looked at the pumpkins (from his garden, thankyouverymuch) and frost-bitten croton and thought, damn. I should be embarrassed. I mean, I’m not. But I should be. So I grabbed a shrub, threw out the nest and the pumpkins, and now my porch is about a quarter of the way to being festive. I’m going to hang some glass balls on my bucket shrub. Maybe put a wreath on my door. OBVIOUSLY, I will be putting Fernando The Yard Flamingo in his Santa outfit. By that point I’ll be exhausted and need to recouperate by watching Love Actually for the 4,593th time. And I’ll probably require a cheeseburger.
Then I’ll wait with a finger or two of bourbon for a really pissed off squirrel to come banging on my door wanting to know how in the hell I thought I could evict him without proper legal notice.
Tank: (Seeing a baby on TV) Oh, mommy, look a baby!
Me: That’s right.
Tank: I want one!
Me: You have your brother.
Tank: No, I want a new little one like that.
Me: Sorry, bud, no more babies.
Tank: Can I have one for my birthday?
Me: How about a fish?
I can see this is how kids negotiate getting puppies and ponies.
Meet Tank. Tank is the older of Pernilla’s two boys. He’s so called because, well, he was quite the sturdy lad in his younger days. And while Pernilla was born in Sweden, schooled in Michigan, and lives in Illinois, she’s really Southern. So I think in a few years some SEC school is going to be thrilled to have Tank on their defensive line. HOWEVER, given the following exchange, we may have a John McEnroe on our hands.
Having a preschooler is a bit like having an English as a second language student with an attitude. They have great command of the language but they still say weird shit:
Me: Tank, no, you can’t blow bubbles inside.
Tank: What?! You are kidding on me right now! Are you kidding me on my head?? Arrghhhhh! Bubbles are so fun. You are not kidding with me right noooooow!!
I should hate my friend Pernilla. She’s talented, smart, funny, gorgeous, and thoughtful. She is also amazingly kind. And Swedish by birth. That last bit is important because there’s a meatball reference later. So, yeah. She shares these little bits of her life that make me laugh until I leak. I told her I wanted to add a feature called Pernilla Ponders… to the blog and she graciously said yes.
In our inaugural post, Pernilla Ponders… Swedish Stereotypes:
You know you aren’t doing much to discourage stereotypes when your admittedly Swedish-looking self drives your very Swedish-looking kids around and the youngest starts chanting “MEATBALLS! MEATBALLS!” at the top of his lungs, and the older one joins in like this is what we normally do – driving around yelling for random meat.
All I need is the Swedish Chef in the lap of Abba in the driver’s seat to really cover my bases.
As I said yesterday, I’m going to be popping in here and there to talk about what the demise of DOMA means for my marriage. I’m a heterosexual woman. My husband is a heterosexual man. Therefore, forthwith, and heretofore, we are not gay married. BUT! As we all know, letting two consenting adults of the same sex get married makes a MOCKERY of marriage. It leads to men marrying dogs. And dancing.
I’ll admit I feel a little less married this morning. Chuck didn’t make coffee and while it could be he was just running late, I think he feels it too. I think he’s questioning the very foundation of our relationship. Coffee ennui is an early sign of a collapsing marriage. I’m sure he thought about all the mornings he woke up and made coffee knowing his loving wife would later stumble into the kitchen and thank the stars she married another caffeine addict. And I’m sure his next thought was now, the way it’s going, it’s not just straight people who will have that bond. Married homosexuals across the land were also waking up and reaping the benefits of a loving, early-rising partner who was equally addicted to caffeine.
I just…I just need a moment.
Posting will be even lighter than normal for a while. I’m heavily medicated to make it through until the second week of January or so. Here are some of the most-read posts from 2012 and a couple I threw in just because it’s my blog and I get to do that.
Merry Christmas, y’all!
Sucking The Life Out Of The Holidays
Things You Never Hear People Say About Movies
Why I Stand Up But Stay Quiet
Pandora And The GPS Lady Walk Into A Bar
My Impression Of The Internet
Bless Her Heart, She Just Doesn’t Know Any Better
More Like Fashion Backward
Sex Gets A Brand Guru