Leaves Me Alone

The slogan for my hometown is "City of Trees" and this really becomes evident in late Fall when there's always one week when all of the trees shed their leaves overnight. This year, that was Wednesday. In my fairly small front yard, I raked up a pile of leaves that dwarfed my car. Sure, you can argue that it's not that impressive because I have a Honda Civic, not an SUV, but I still find it hard to believe because none of those leaves were from any of my trees.

Apparently complaining about other people's leaves falling on your lawn is genetic because when I mentioned this to my parents, they told me that my mother's father complained about the same thing. I may not have inherited the skinny height and wiry strength, but I got the complaining gene.

Anyhow, I've decided that raking leaves is a good upper body workout, justifying the ingestion of an extra thousand or two calories for the day.

I'm blaming my neighbors and their damned trees for all the weight I'll be gaining over the next few weeks.

Safe Harbor

It's always a good sign when your not-really-a-boss asks if you might want to take a year off.

The answer is yes, but only if someone else is paying my bills. Since that seems a little unlikely, I'll do what I always do and ignore the issue until it either goes away or I have to do something about it.

It could be worse, of course -- I could be harboring a budding juvenile delinquent like my nephew Liam. Somehow I made it through all of my schooling without getting in trouble for anything other than my unwillingness to do homework. (This despite the fact that I remember getting in a few physical altercations -- my theories: 1) nobody in charge saw anything, 2) nobody in charge felt compelled to report anything back in the dark ages when I was in grade school, or 3) nobody felt compelled to report anything because why would they report a boy and girl fighting if the girl didn't lose?)

The nephew, on the other hand, hasn't managed to make it through first grade before getting his first "green card", a really poorly-named infraction notification sent home for his parents to sign. It sounds like it was named by a teacher who was into the whole self-esteem thing. Or someone who had no children involved in the immigration system.

Anyhow, if he wants to continue his life of violence, he should probably pack on a few pounds since I'm sure even his shorter classmates outweigh him. On second thought, with his coordination, he should probably just learn to run faster than everyone else. But that would require effort.

I'm going to start calling him Bruiser.

Or Possibly, Just Call Me A Tree Falling In A Forest With Neighbors Who Were Out Of State For Thanksgiving

Yeah, so it turns out that my avoidance of my neighbors might have been completely unnecessary because Friday morning I saw them drive up and unload a bunch of luggage from their car.

It was a lot easier to keep track of them when they still had the senile old dog, because every time they left her alone she would wander around outside and bark. Sure it was occasionally a little annoying, but I figure I had no right to complain on that score since the only difference was that my senile old dog did all of her barking indoors.

Anyhow, now I feel slighted that they left town for Thanksgiving and didn't even think about the fact that I might have been counting on them to invite me for dinner.

The world today... You just can't count on anyone any more.

Just Call Me Ninja...

Happy Thankshiding

Yes, it's almost Thanksgiving again, which means that I only need to avoid my neighbors for three more days. As the saying goes, praise the Lord and pass the butter.

It's not that I don't like my neighbors -- I actually like them quite a bit, and they have a comfortable couch, which is something I'm sorely lacking. I've even forgiven them for the whole Uncle Walter thing, especially since there's no danger of a repeat seating chart land mine. It's just that I like lazing around my own house even more, and my attempts at polite conversation are getting worse and worse as time goes on. Also, Thanksgiving is a weird holiday for vegetarians when not eating with other vegetarians. (Even when eating with "almost a vegetarian" folks.)

So, yes, this year my plan is to again hang out in my house and eat a bunch of French onion soup (with melted cheese, of course) while lounging in my sweats. The only thing that could possibly go wrong is a chance encounter with my neighbors before Thursday. I know they only invite me because they think it is sad that I'm alone for the holidays, so really, I'm doing them a favor by walking the dogs at odd hours. If I could actually get my gate open I'd park in the driveway behind my house instead of in front of it for the next few days. Maybe I should just leave the lights off outside for the duration, just to be safe.

So anyhow, wish me luck in my skulking, and enjoy the gluttony of the day.

Trying To Do My Part...

I walked downtown last Sunday with the express purpose of spending money, which felt a little odd, but my reasoning was that I'm always talking about how the downtown area has so many vacancies and I rarely spend money to support it.

For those keeping score, the nutritional quackery store closed a few weeks ago, and Dee's (which replaced Jim's Store) went out of business in less than six months. However, one of the restaurants that went out of business is being renovated and is opening up soon, and there's another gourmet hamburger place that recently opened.

Anyhow, the next time I feel the need to implement my own personal stimulus plan, I should probably not pick Sunday. Almost everything is closed on Sundays. I really ought to know this after living here for almost a decade. But the Western wear shop was open and I now know where to buy all of my camouflage clothing. (I did buy a thermal shirt there, so mission accomplished.)

I considered buying a skateboard, but decided that I didn't need to get that crazy. The mini pet supply store was open and I could have bought multiple Halloween costumes for the little dog, but I decided I would rather just give the shop money to stay open rather than buy clothing for my dogs. I did buy another set of clippers (since I think I permanently loaned the last pair to someone) so I could clip the big dog. I'll be sure to take before and after photos. How bad can it be?

Maybe next time I'll just get drunk in The Stag.

Repercussions

Do you want to know what happens when you make fun of your boss and his mumbling on your blog? You get voice mail like this:

Program. Also, for apartment. Eating. Hello, the time, watch out. For more of it, try track track. It is Good luck with that. Bye, bye. 5.

That's just about what he said, too.