To begin, our next door neighbors had their enormous old oak tree cut down. This tree was big, people, so I'm guessing it had to have been at least 80 years old or more. I have mixed feelings about the tree homicide. On the one hand, it was lovely, provided oxygen for my kids, and its long branches reached over our backyard so far that my husband installed a tire swing on one. My big dog, Lucy, would take flight off the deck and chase squirrels through the yard, up our lanky dogwood and into the welcoming branches of the oak, where I'm certain they had nests. But here's the other hand: a lot of leaves and a lot of twigs and bigger branches fell into our yard regularly, especially after a storm. We live in tornado country, so this tree always threatened me and the safety of my house, my family. Our neighbors felt the same way, so they had it executed. A truckload of mulch from the carcass was dumped behind our house for our yard and playground (and another blog post).
With the demise of the grand oak tree came the tree removal service. I want to call the practitioners arborists, but I'm not sure that is accurate since they kill trees instead of protecting them. I should have known this was a bad sign. When I greeted my daughter the morning that the tree folk (that is what I have chosen to call them; it sounds a bit like wood nymphs, only more masculine) arrived, she told me she had been watching them out of her bedroom window and the man in the cherry picker waved to her. I hadn't had my first cup of coffee yet. Then my husband joked with me that the tree guy in the cherry picker owed him a dollar for seeing him get in the shower (we have frosted glass on the bottom pane, not the top because honestly how many guys on cherry pickers are stationed outside the bathroom window on our second story?). Still, I hadn't had my caffeine. After my husband and the kids left for school/work, I went into the bathroom, started running the water for my shower, ripped off my t-shirt and stared back at cherry picker dude. And fell to the floor like I'd been shot in the gut. Can't say my family hadn't warned me . . . twice . . . that there was a man in a helmet right outside my bathroom window, looking right at us.
|Tree Dude is looking at you (image from Sonomatree.com)|
So, I blame the tree folk - not all tree folk, mind you, because I'm not into generalizations - for three inappropriate daytime occurrences, but the last one is all on its own. This one will skeve you out, so I'm a-warning you. On my commute down to the university where I teach, I usually have a wait at a four-way intersection. It's not a particularly long light, but there are four sets of turn lights. Some commuters might find this tedious. They may get bored, whip out their phones or perhaps their manly appendages. That certainly seemed to be the case in the car in front of me. Seriously. I didn't see flesh because I was in the car behind him, people. But, what caught my attention was some furious jerking. Then I caught his expression in the side-view mirror. Oh man, I really was not trying to be a voyeur. This was uncomfortable. It was also 9:30 in the freakin' morning on a crowded street. WTF? Dude caught my eye, or maybe just the wrenched expression on my face, the light changed and he took off. He had a baby seat in the back.
Car Dude did NOT look like this
Please share some weird, inappropriateness with me so I don't feel so all alone!!!