Gummibunny

It had been a little while since I’d been inside a mall, so I was a little shocked when I opened the doors of Oglethorpe Mall yesterday and saw glittering white lights and green and red streamers. Christmas trees were standing every few feet, and Christmas carols were being pumped through the speaker system.
At least most places waited until after Halloween to get into the Christmas mode. But now that they’re into it, they’re really into it. There’s no easing into this holiday thing.
I love the holidays, but I always make myself ignore the trappings until Thanksgiving. Then, I can hum all the carols I want. I want to savor it for a short while, not drag it out over months and months.
So far, it hasn’t been hard to ignore the holiday feeling because it has been so HOT outside. I spent most of Wednesday outside, and I was sweating so much. In November. That’s just wrong.
But today, it cooled off considerably and felt more like fall. I was in Bath and Body Works where they had holiday candles burning, and I took a big whiff of the Pine Tree candle. I closed my eyes and saw Christmas trees. The candle smelled just like Christmas. I caught myself picturing a big, green frazier fir in the corner of our living room… then made myself stop. Not until Thanksgiving!

I’m proudly wearing my “I Voted” sticker.
I really do think it’s important. At the very least, I believe you lose your right to complain about elected officials if you did not participate in the election process. It’s like saying, “I don’t like what you’re doing, but I don’t really care enough to try to change anything.” Why should anyone help you?
I met a woman today who emigrated from Italy 65 years ago, became an American citizen and is passionate about voting. She was decked out in red, white, and blue today, and talking about voting rights brought her to tears.
Then I heard from another woman who was angry because her polling place moved a few miles down the road. In her frustration, she decided not to vote at all because it wasn’t fair to ask her to vote somewhere new. What? How will that help anything? Who are you hurting other than yourself by muting your own voice? People in other countries would sacrifice so much more than a bit of extra gasoline to travel a few miles to vote.
It may sound cliche, but election day always makes me feel patriotic. Yeah, politicians may be corrupt, the process may be flawed, blah blah blah. But at least I do have a choice and a vote, and that’s more than some people can say.

It has rained all day, the kind of pounding rain that at times makes you raise your voice to be heard over the drops pelting the rooftop. The sky is dark now, but even at noon it was a steely gray that hid any sign of a sun shining up there. But I find that I’m enjoying the rain.
The dreary outside makes the inside feel warmer and safer. I’ve often felt that water has healing qualities. The kind of soaking rains we’re having today are soothing, and make me believe when the sun does shine, everything will be washed clean.
I thought about this again today when I was getting a hair cut. My favorite part is always getting it washed, the way the water feels in combination with hands massaging my scalp. So relaxing.
Thanks to the time change, it got dark very early today. Combined with the weather, I just want to retreat into my house like an animal denning. Lee and I are going to make popcorn and watch a movie tonight. I’ll probably get out a fleece blanket too. Not because I’m cold, but because the blanket is warm.
Tomorrow can be sunny, but I hope it keeps raining tonight.
UPDATE: Watch what you wish for. Just as our movie ended, the sound of rain pounding the roof changing into the sound of the rain coming through the roof. My safe, warm den has sprung a leak. Again.

We signed a contract with Mr. Landscape Man tonight, and I’m excited. But my excitement is a little subdued because the evening was fairly traumatic.
The very first time Mr. Landscape Man came over, he seemed a little nervous about Millie. He said he’d been bitten by a customer’s dog before. We assured him she does not bite.
Tonight, he seemed at ease, playing with the dog freely. We all sat down at the dining room table to go over final prices when Luca jumped into the seat next to him and shoved her fat gray head in front of him. He was kind, and began petting her.
That always makes me nervous. I know she bites. I explain to visitors that she bites. They always say, “Oh don’t worry, I know cats.” Luca climbed into his lap and I told him he could shoo her away. He declined.
Then abruptly, she launched her attack. He pushed her off his lap into the chair, but her assault wasn’t finished. She bit his arm again before she jumped down. At first he acted like it was no big deal, but I could see a few spots of blood.
A moment later I looked again, and a river of blood was pouring down his arm and elbow. I jumped up for a paper towel. He constantly wiped at the wound, but it just kept bleeding. Horrified, I watched him place one bloody paper towel on my placemat (where I eat every night), then take the other one to wipe the blood off the floor.
I really don’t know if she got him that badly, maybe he’s just one of those people who bleeds profusely and doesn’t clot well. But the bleeding continued and continued. I began to wonder if he needed stitches.
Finally when it was time for him to leave, he extended the bloody towels to Lee, who kindly showed him the trash can. I thought I was going to throw up. Lee mentioned calling in a hazmat crew. Might be a good idea. I know something drastic will have to be done to our table and placemat before I can even think about eating there again.

Lee and I are finally taking the landscaping plunge. Tired of our grassless front yard, tired of killing all the plants we buy, tired of a yard that would be better swept with a broom than raked or mowed – we called a landscaper.
At first, we just wanted to someone to talk to us about grass. We figured if we could put some sod down, it would make the yard look greener and cleaner, and surely wouldn’t break the bank.
Then Mr. Landscape Man came over, and crazy things started streaming from his mouth. Wonderfully crazy things. Suddenly it wasn’t just sod anymore, it was a whole tranformation. Back yard, front yard, even Millie’s yard. Pruning, limbing, sodding, planting, shaping, and on and on. Even a sprinkler system.
Now we’re just trying to decide how much of it we can afford. We think Mr. Landscape Man is giving us a good deal, but as any landscaper should know, money doesn’t grow on trees.
He is a bit crazy though. Loves to talk. Loves to interrupt himself as he talks. Loves to chain-smoke little skinny cigars. Constantly reminds us that he’s never late, even though he was 2 hours late yesterday.
I’m not worried he’ll find this blog entry though. When he asked Lee what he did for a living and Lee said, “web designer,” Mr. Landscape Man said, “That has something to do with computers, right?” I think I’m pretty safe writing here.

Today, Lee said those words. “Do you want to go to the gym?” No, I thought. I’d rather lie on the couch and read Seabiscuit.
I tried to come up with a valid excuse as I weighed my answer. Usually it’s too late in the evening. But I got off work a little earlier today. Usually I’m too tired. I really wasn’t very tired today. Too hungry? Not today.
Lee and I have been paying for a gym membership for more than a year now. We used to go fairly regularly (for like 2 weeks), but it has tapered. He goes more often than I do, and I hadn’t gone in a couple months.
I wish just paying for the membership were enough to reap the benefits. My checkbook is the only thing getting a workout.
So I caved, in a huff. We went, and I knew immediately it had been too long. There were full grown flower bushes in the parking lot’s median. They weren’t there before. I remarked about the new fence around the children’s play area. Lee said it had been there since he was 15. He was exaggerating, but it was close enough to the truth.
The workout was okay, I just get so bored. So that’s my real excuse. It bores me. Pretty lame excuse.
But maybe I’ll suck it up and start going again. Right.

Fitzgerald is in the national spotlight today. A soldier on leave was visiting his family in my tiny hometown, when he bought the winning lotto ticket. Nearly $90 million dollars in the lump-sum payout.
Tonight, Nightly News did a story from Fitzgerald. It was strange to see my little town on national television. It was funny to hear Tom Brokaw and the reporter pronounc it fitz-GER-ald. It sounded too finessed. The locals say FITZ-ger-ald (insert strong southern accent, especially on that first syllable). There was the reporter, doing a stand-up in front of the Flash Foods convenience store across the street from the local paper. I used to get sodas there during my breaks. I wonder what the big-time reporter thought of good old Fitzy? I wonder what Fitzy thought of him?
At least this is a better story than the last time I remember Fitzgerald grabbing national attention. That was at the height of the chicken controversy. To be more accurate, they aren’t chickens, but wild Burmese Jungle fowl. They roam the streets, dig in everyone’s gardens, and crow loudly to wake you at 4 a.m. A rooster lived in a tree outside my house in high school. I would often have to stop my car in the street because a flock of W.B.J.F. were crossing. Slowly.
There was a huge debate over what to do with them. Some people loved them. Others wanted them dead. The story was quirky enough to be heard in far away places. The chickens won, and are still there. Now, our town even has a festival in their honor. Crazy town!