In Which I Critique Yard Art And A Manifestation Of Jesus

 

From UncommonGoods.com, and I approve of these.

Is it Spring yet where you are? And how the heck are you? I'm pleased--no, make that ecstatic--to say that we've finally reached the point in NEO that grass has been mowed, and I've picked my own daffodils right from my yard. Some magnolias are blooming, those ubiquitous (and in many states, outlawed) Bradford pear trees are all in full blossom, and so are the redbuds. Tulips also abound (only red and yellow ones; the squirrels have eaten all the rest, including all of mine), and today I saw a big fat bumblebee, what we used to generically call Queen Bees, buzzing loudly around the patio. Yes, my patio furniture is out, and my front porch furniture is not far behind. Bird song begins before daybreak now, and robins and starlings have begun collecting things for their nests. I may let Rick put the last sn*w shovel away next week, tempting both Fate and the Weather Gods.

Easter was at our house, and it was deliciously catered by Jared and Jordan, who made the meal at home and transported it here. Earlier, I had confessed that, while I was happy to have everyone over, I didn't feel much like cooking a big dinner. They immediately offered and I accepted, not feeling nearly as much guilt as I thought I would. I supplied two desserts, both purchased, and I didn't feel guilty about that at all. 

One would think that Easter, being a more sedate holiday, would not inspire a great deal of outdoor decoration beyond maybe some plastic eggs hanging from a bush or tree. Even a door wreath with coloured eggs is not very wise since Easter is not, per se, a season, but rather maybe a week. 

One would be wrong. 

Consider this display that we saw on the main street of a town we pass through on our way to the lakehouse. I made Rick pull over to get the photo because I was so flabbergasted and shocked.

  An inflatable Jesus. AND an inflatable tomb/large stone. I do hope I was the only one of all of you to ever see this. I want so desperately to tell you that this is...oh, I don't know...an isolated incident. A singular novelty item that was, perhaps, specially ordered. Sadly, I cannot. After typing inflatable Jesus into Google, I was overwhelmed with a multitude of Inflatable Jesuses (Jesi?). There was even a 6-foot Inflatable Jesus Waver on offer. I have, in the earlier days of this blog, explored a more modern take on Jesuses/Jesi in film, thinking that I was being perhaps a bit edgy and maybe even wandering into Offensive territory. Ha ha, it is to laugh. That was nothing compared to Jesus Inflatables. I do suppose it's quite a dramatic and inspiring sight, however, to inflate him and watch him...er...resurrect, right there on your own lawn.

That I think inflatables are terrible is not new. I've even said that the deflated ones--during the day! what, do they think we can't see them?--look like huge discarded condoms. I wonder what Sister Marguerite and Father Wanner, my childhood Catholic nemeses, would think of Inflatable Jesus. I'm thinking they couldn't find a pin big enough to Take Care Of Business.

This Easter inflatable, just around the corner from my home, seems subtle and demure by comparison. I quite like it, for an inflatable, and I'm sure you'll be able to see why:

Look how cute that little cow is, so chipper and childlike, holding his Easter egg and wearing his bunny ears! Easter For Cows! I'm in, and I think that Easter Cow is way better than Inflatable Jesus or even a straight up Easter Bunny.

Not that I'm endorsing Yard Inflatables. Come on.

Finally, this sign perplexed me for years, and I am not kidding. As a six-year student of French, I struggled to understand exactly what the point/meaning of it was. I just didn't get it.

 

In French the word tres means very. No Very Pooping? What?! Even if you translate it to Spanish, where tres means three. No Three Pooping? Still doesn't make sense. Finally, earlier this week, I finally got it. It's a play on the word Trespassing! As in, No Trespassing/No Trespooping. It's all one word. After the first flush of triumph wore off, I was irritated. It's just a stupid attempt to be clever, and the kerning is terrible. I hope all kinds of animals poop in their yard. So there! And I don't feel dumb at all. (Did you get it right away? I hope I'm not the only one who was mystified.)

Happy Spring even if it hasn't quite reached you yet. And may your neighbourhoods be blessed with tasteful Yard Art.

Scenes From March

image courtesy Ebay

Long time, no see. March felt like it was several months long and a jumble of stuff. Let's get into it with a post that reflects that.

*I've written here before about my funny grocery store and the oddities it carries in its Closeouts section. Rick and I went grocery shopping, and I came upon a whole shelf of these. I'd love to hear your thoughts about this thing:

Pretty sure he's holding it correctly

*Another familiar theme here at the Dept. is my irritation for people who leave their outdoor Christmas decorations up far too long. Around the block from my home is this particularly egregious example. They finally took everything down a few days ago. In MARCH. 

The house is also only partially sprayed this horrific blue. You can see the spray marks about a quarter of the way across on each side.

I went by there a few days ago, and while all the Christmas crap is gone, the yeti silhouette is still there. I feel so bad for the neighbours on each side, both of whose houses are neat, tidy, and carefully landscaped (also bereft of any tardy seasonal decor or large cryptids). 

*The weather straightened itself out enough for several days in a row, long enough for my neighbour's Lenten Lilies/early daffodils to come out along my driveway. They never venture to that side of their home, so I don't feel guilty at all each year when I cut them and bring them in to brighten my mood.

And I'm going to keep cutting them, too!

Later, there will be garlic to harvest from that side, too, planted ages ago by the previous owner. My own daffodils are starting to bloom now; I couldn't be happier.

*Ever since we had to say goodbye to Marlowe, her brother's personality has undergone a transformation. Piper used to never say much of anything, and now we can't get him to shut up. He's also become demanding about many things, such as requiring ice in his water and a tablespoon full of my half-and-half when I make my coffee. Because of his advanced age (16) and...er...size, he also refuses to jump or climb up to be on my lap; rather, he howls until I pick him up and put him there. So many things meet with his disapproval, and I constantly hear about each and every one of them. This is the evildoer I am speaking of:

Luckily, he is quite affable around Theo, whose toys you see in the background

Did I unwittingly help create this monster? Yes. Yes I did, so please learn from my mistakes and give your pet no special treatment whatsoever else they come to expect it.

*I caught sight of this in a residential yard in my neighbourhood. I had to stop and take a photo. To me, it is the perfect symbol of present times in this country, about which I could easily write a thousand words expressing my dismay, outrage, and profound sadness. Instead, I'll let this say it all:

The stars are merely star-shaped holes. Vote blue!

*Finally, today I watched a very determined mother intent upon protecting her baby. I took a short video and want to share it with you here:

This mother squirrel carried her two kits across the street, one at a time, and no farther than 6 feet away from me. She carried them right past me and up the driveway, and past Rick who was working noisily on the lawnmower. Her final destination was a huge sycamore tree behind our neighbour's home, which has an opening in its trunk. I was able to catch a bit of footage of her second trip. The video is not terrific, but it does have a few dramatic seconds at the end--of the stamped concrete of my patio when I, completely astonished, forgot to shut off my phone. 

Because of her amazing feat, I have vowed to stop shooing squirrels away from my blue jay feeder on the porch. Let them eat peanuts! That squirrel mom is a hero (as are so many Mothers and Women, unsung though they may be). 

Happy Springtime, my friends. It's showing signs now of its green and blooming presence, and we certainly deserve it. 

Life In The Future: Parking And Doing The Hard Stuff To Make Life Easier

 

https://plexido.pl/

In my New York Times newsletter last week, writer Melissa Kirsch wrote about "doing the harder thing now so that you’ll have an easier time later...a fundamental concept in self-improvement communities." One example she gave was backing into a parking spot, an oddity noted by a colleague who wrote up his investigation into this apparently growing phenomenon. The article is short and, despite its seemingly boring subject, pretty interesting. 

I (along with the writer's wife!) still maintain that the majority of backer-inners are men who A) just like to show off; or B) feel that it's a Rite Of Their Masculinity And They Simply Must Do It. Also, I don't get it. Parking the car involves two actions, the initial parking and the leaving of the parking spot. Does it really matter which one you do when? You aren't saving any time. Or effort, really. It just seems stupid to me.

One year, I told my husband that all I wanted for Christmas was for him to back my car into the garage every single night. I hate backing out of our garage and down our driveway. It's not a straight shot, our neighbours erected a fence partway down on their property, we have a drainage pipe along the side of the house that is required by the city, and even with a backup camera, it is always irritating for me. What a joy it would be for me to simply drive out of my side of the garage and into the street! Sadly, I did not find that gift under our tree.

In days past I always parked in faraway spots wherever I went. I refused to make looking for a parking spot part of my shopping trips. Many times that meant that I could simply pull through to the spot in front of me, assuring that I didn't have to back out at all, even when it was time for me to leave. It also meant a bit of walking, which has always been my preferred form of exercise anyway. It also meant that I didn't have to sit in my car and wait around for anyone to back into his parking spot or sit there and wait while some idiot sat there with their blinker on, waiting for the person still loading their bags into their car in a prime spot to actually leave.

Aside from Parking and all its attendant This And Thats, I do believe in doing some harder things proactively so that Future Me has an easier time of it, and it was a habit I started as a much younger person, mainly because I hated mornings and wanted to get as much sleep as possible. Back when I was a kid, I used to put a chair right at the side of my bed and put my entire outfit for the next day on it. Many, many times, I'd even pull it on while I was still lying in bed, so loath I was to actually get up and admit that I had to start my day. It's a little embarrassing to admit how often I'd lie there, fully dressed, waiting for the exact last minute that I had to get out of bed and get downstairs before I risked being late.

As a career woman I still chose my clothes and readied them the night before. Anything I needed to take with me was placed in my school bag, a huge tote that also contained almost anything needed for any exigency that Future Me might encounter. Teaching in a huge urban school presented enough opportunities for stress; I was determined to head off any that I reasonably could.

Retired Me is still looking for opportunities to reduce stress and make my environment serene. Future Me does not want to wake up to a messy kitchen or unfolded laundry even though I have all day to do things. I also ready my coffeemaker so that all I have to do is push a button in the morning for my coffee whenever Future Me may want it. Mail passes through my hands only once; I act upon it immediately. Piles and clutter drive me nuts. 

Rick is not this way. His tolerance for piles of clutter and mail and clothes is much higher than mine. Future Him is the same as Present Him, pretty much, unless you count the carpentry rule of Measure Twice, Cut Once. He wonders at my lack of Patience in all things but our grandson and our sons. I tell him I do, too. For the record, he does not back into parking spaces, even if I am not with him in the car. He thinks it's stupid and rude. For the record, he does pull through into the spot ahead once in a while.