I woke up in the middle of the night, as I am wont to do, and for who knows what reason thought of how in 1978, Mad Magazine made fun of General Hospital and called Luke Spencer “Puke Dispenser” and I giggled in the bed till it shook like I was Linda Blair. Then I let the dog out to pee.
Anyway, hello. I had an actually busy weekend for once and don’t have to create content out of the thoughts I had. Because that is so refreshing, like a mountain stream or Tide, let’s begin.
Chris and Lilly had a Whoooo-loween at their store, so naturally I schlepped out there to see it. Whooooo-loween involved these birds of prey hanging out on the hawk gloves of birds of prey experts, and I did not at all fall in love with each bird and want to marry them in a bird ceremony and be June Prey. I like how I just act like “a bird ceremony” is a thing. LOOK at this little muffin tin, up there! This is an Elf Owl and he makes his living cooking Keebler cookies. Oh my god I love his little head.
Chris and Lilly’s kids were at said birds of prey event, and one of them said, “Owls have big eyes so they can eat kittens.”
Here is Mr. Spectacled Owl and I made a spectacled of m’self as I hugged him and kissed him and called him George. Spectacled Owls imprint on people who care for them. I imprint on people who ignore me.
Here is a spotty kissy-head hawk, with yellow lips and cute clawses.
Anyway I loved them, and also I got a pumpkin while I was there, because it’s fall and you must display a pumpkin for no apparent reason.
I got the pinkish one.
On the way home, I looked for birds of prey stores where I could buy my own owl for my bird ceremony, but also I stopped at this gravel store I keep wanting to go to but their hours are June Works and June’s Asleep. In the South, there’s this trend that places open from 8 till noon Saturdays and not at all Sundays, because of God. * till noon Saturday can go fuck itself.
This time, for once, they were open. I really need more gravel in my driveway. My gravel has gotten sad and tired like an aging diner waitress. My gravel is Doris, the blousy diner waitress.
Anyway, they also had lawn stuff. The kind of lawn stuff everyone needs. Brighten up yer lawn. Say, hey, world. I’ve brightened up m’lawn.
The more I look at this one, the more I want it. Who is she? Why is she be-lipsticked? Where’s she going? I feel like something having to do with the Eastern Star. I think she’d really brighten up my lawn afterward.
As soon as I got home from gravelworld, from Gravel’s Bolero, my pal The Other Copy Editor came over and we sat on my front porch because no one can come into my home with their myriad COVID germs. Anyway, because it was raining, which it did all weekend in droves, we sat on my front porch, which means she got to see various neighbors in various states of drama. There is always, always drama here. It’s a sad day when I’m the low-drama house.
Anyway, then on Sunday Chris and Lilly and their kitten-eating children came over because I had bought two trees from them. They have a garden store, see, and for my birthday, my mother got me a dogwood. Then I got the other dogwood for myself. One is going to have pink blossoms, and one will have white blossoms.
I debated where to put them. At first, my idea was I wanted them to be in front of my walkway, so they’d form a canopy eventually. The house down the street does that, and it looks nice. It’s sort of convenient that all the houses look alike so I can steal ideas.
But when The Other Copy Editor was here, she suggested putting on on the corner of my house. Then I asked people on Facebook and they had ideas that had nothing to do with the two options I have. “Bulldoze your whole front yard, then get 7 more trees, and …”
Anyway as you can see it was raining. But I dug and I dug and I measured root balls and I planted and
Eventually I settled on the canopy idea and now I regret it. It just seems too busy now. Should I get rid of the flower bed? I’m not that good at growing flowers anyway. Take some bushes out? I’ve not been a fan of those bushes, ever, except for the camellia, which I adore.
What you might not know is planting trees in the rain is dirty work. I think it’s possible I have never been that dirty. I had to hold my phone with the edges of my hands and I still got it dirty. When I walked into my house, it was like that scene in Pet Cemetery where the wife comes back. What dirt?
Anyway that sums me up, and now it’s Monday up in here and I have to begin the workweek.