Thursday, October 6, 2011
My Crazy Life – September 21, 2011 – The Pecan Tree
As promised, here is the story about the pecan tree. It’s not a big one, just a typical story about me and my bright ideas. We have 12.5 acres of yard – the majority is behind our house, one LONG strip of land (customary of what you find when you front water.)
There is the “bayouside” that I have written about. I found out that we actually own the land under the highway and the state only has the right of way. Ummmm. That got me to thinking – thinking can lead to trouble with me. If I own the land, then maybe I should put a stop sign at either end of my property. Being a major highway (one of two going up and down the bayou to Port Fouchon) there is a lot of traffic, a lot of fast traffic. If the traffic had to stop first, and then travel “through” my property, then it would be a much safer environment for my dogs (and me, because I cross the highway to go to the boathouse.) I think it sounds like an awesome idea. I am not sure the state would think so.
Barring the stop signs, I could just change the speed limit for those ninety-five feet. I’m sure the bus drivers would like it. They would finally be able to make stops and not have the trucks blowing horns at them. I would poll the neighbors, but they are still at war and not talking to us. It was fun thinking about it.
Then, we have the “first” yard. This is where our house is located and we have a “front” yard and a “back” yard. We refer to the back yard as the orchard (take notes if you can’t keep up) as we have pecan trees, orange tree, grapefruit trees, lemon trees, fig trees, more fig trees, a bay leaf tree (great tea) and some dead trees.
And, that folks, brings me to the pecan tree I mowed over. It used to be a fig tree and then it died but the stalk was still there. I was tired of mowing around that silly stalk and mowed right over it last week. Well, this week Hubby went to check on his fig tree that he has been nursing back to health. Needless to say, it ain’t as healthy as it used to be. He was beyond upset. Obviously, he has been nursing it for a while now and I didn’t have a clue. I thought I was mowing over a dead twig. It wasn’t pretty folks. He was not that understanding, especially when I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. I laugh at the most inappropriate times. I laughed when my father fussed me as I was growing up and it hasn’t changed. I really and truly mean no disrespect. I have now been instructed – in no uncertain terms – NOT to mow over anything EVER! Even if it looks dead – cuz ya just never know. Apparently, one man’s dead tree is another man’s live tree.
I was back to mowing the yard this week and as I drove by the “not-a-tree-anymore” tree, my heart kind of skipped a beat because it is now only a minute twig in the ground. I started thinking that it was probably a very good idea for me to insert that “for better or for worse” clause into the wedding vows. It has certainly come in handy. As my blog description says, "Deep in my heart, I know there’s no promise I’ll be free from trouble in this life. In fact, I’m usually either getting out of trouble, currently in trouble, or about to meet trouble around the next corner."
Then, there is what I refer to as the “north forty” which is located beyond the first fence. It is where Hubby has his garden, shooting range, and general wilderness for hunting. You can see some of the land in this post: My Life. One Story at a Time.: My Crazy Life – September 19, 2011 – So, I ran over a pecan tree… And, so goes the tour of the land.
Off on another subject, Hubby likes me to follow him around everywhere he goes. This man can ro-day like nobody’s mother. And, talk, don’t get me started. Through 13.5 years of marriage I have come to the realization that if I dare to get in the car with him, I had better be prepared for the long haul. Yesterday was no exception. He needed to mow grass at his father’s house and at our rental houses. I packed two magazines, one Kindle, a Planter’s peanut bar and a thermos of ice water. I figured that would get me through the ensuing hours.
Left alone, my mind begins to wander. We have been discussing purchasing property for a weekend getaway. We haven’t gotten past the talking, but there’s been plenty of planning for the house on the non-existent piece of getaway property. I found a picture and story about a “dog-trot” style house. By the time Hubby was finished with the mowing and climbing in the truck for the ride home, I had completely modified the house plan and had it decorated. I made the mistake of sharing my excitement. The look on his face was priceless.
He was thinking cabin in the woods, I was thinking – well, you know what I was thinking – pretty little cozy cottage in the woods with lots of screened-in porches for the dogs and catching those breezes, sheers blowing in the wind at the windows, fireplace. What was I thinking!?
That’s what happens when I am left to my own devices for too long a time, especially with all that grass and pollen blowing in through the open truck windows because Hubby couldn’t hear the horn blowing or see me frantically waving at him. He had the truck key in his pocket and I had no way to close the windows!
Saturday night, we attended a murder mystery dinner play with friends. The name of the play was Gone with the Hurricane. First off, my friend and I decided not to use our husbands as go betweens to plan an outing anymore. Do you remember the game that we all played as children when the teacher wanted us to behave in lines? I think it was called Post Office or some other ridiculous name. The teacher would whisper a sentence in the first child’s ear and that child would pass the message by whispering in the next child’s ear and so on down the line. By the time the message made its way to the last child, it was a jumbled mess. That was okay since the message traveled through at least twenty kids. This message traveled through two husbands.
Hubby phoned me to tell me about the dinner play and to find out if we had plans that night. He was so excited. Husband No. 1 had told him that the play was about a hurricane so Hubby picked right up on it and exclaimed that it must be about the hurricane of 1930 (or around that) that hit South Louisiana and it would probably be very interesting. Keep this scenario in mind folks because that was NOT what the play was about.
I love history so I gave my friend a call (after the husbands said it might be better if we talked) to find out more information. This is what she told me. The name of the play was Gone with the Hurricane and it was a murder mystery and spoof off Gone with the Wind and we, as the audience, would get to guess who the murderer was. Now, how did this story get so turned around?
The play actually began in a different room than which we were seated.The actors began the starting argument and then walked into the dining room arguing. We had to pay attention from the very beginning. One of the characters, Nellie (spoof of Melanie) stopped by our table and was holding a conversation with one of my friends. My friend got so into her character that her husband and I were looking at each other and back at her with bewildered looks. As soon as she completed her long drawn out conversation and turned back to the table, we both asked her how if she knew the actor. Don’t laugh – she didn’t. And, this is how the night began and continued. Friend and Hubby were participating in the play (did I mention that it was interactive?) and her husband and I spent the night asking each other – Was that real or pretend? It was an interesting evening and we laughed until our faces hurt. The characters in the play were Harlot O’Mara Cutler, Brett Cutler, Dashley Wilkes, Nellie Wilkes, Charmin Caliente, Bruce Cummin, and the Detective.
I’ll be blogging soon on obedience classes, so stay tuned. I’m sure it will be an adventure!