October 6, 1998
She Talks To Bushes


Another anniversary: five months in The Tree House. Ta-da.
Ordinarily I would be celebrating such a momentous occasion with candles, loud groovy music, haute cuisine and fine wine (and more fine wine, and maybe a little MORE  fine wine) ...

(OK. It would be that hideous Franzio "Mountain Chablis" stuff that tastes like fingernail polish remover and comes in a BOX, forcryingoutloud)

... but under the present circumstances (Day #157 of Unfortunate Temporary Utter Destitution, and Day #20 of Fortunate Permanent Utter Sobriety) I am forced to make do with:

* The *New* Hollywood Squares (blurf)

* Skippy Extra-Molar-Imploding-Crunchy, straight out of the jar

* Half a can of flat Diet 7-Up.

I don't actually have a whole lot to report this evening ...

... except for the fact that I was walking down the crooked alley to the bus stop this morning, and the sun was shining, and some of the leaves have begun to turn color, and I felt especially alive again, for just a blink ...

... and as I walked up the hill I noticed that the bushes in front of the Grandma Lady's house were covered in what (from a distance, without my glasses) appeared to be clouds ...

... but on closer inspection proved to be huge intricate spiderwebs, created overnight because they weren't there yesterday ...

... and I had to just stand there for a minute, with my bag of overdue library books in one hand and my umbrella (just in case) in the other hand, and admire this particular masterpiece, even though the artiste was nowhere in sight ...

... and how the Grandma Lady was watching me from her living room window the entire time, doubtless wondering why this crazy person was standing there smiling at her bushes ...


Grandma Lady: "Hello? Oregano City Police Department?"

Operator: "It's the crazy Tree House Lady again, isn't it?"




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