When I was growing up, my family did not have a lot of money. Even so, we would escape take a vacation now and then or maybe go away for a long weekend. My dad knew that my only criteria for where we stayed was that it had a pool and he dutifully indulged my whimsy. As I paddled around the hotel pool, one or both of my parents looking on, I would day dream that one day, maybe I too could own a pool even though my mom told me they were “a lot of work” and “expensive”. In the spring of 2013, Andrea told me we better look at houses and fast because interest rates on mortgages were low and they wouldn’t stay that way. It’s seldom that Andrea issues edicts, so when she does, I listen. Because we didn’t have children and weren’t planning on doing so, we cast a fairly wide net on where to look. I stumbled across the real estate listing for the dark brown cape we would eventually inhabit and issued an edict of my own, that we were going to look at it before the open house that was scheduled that coming Sunday. Andrea looked at the pictures skeptically and proclaimed it ugly. By this time, we had put offers on several homes which had been turned down or fallen through for one reason or another and was losing my patience for the entire process. Andrea reluctantly agreed to meet me at the house on a Thursday evening after work. By the time I arrived at the house, Andrea had entered through the front door with our realtor (who probably quit real estate altogether after dealing with me – I can’t locate him so he may have gone into witness protection after our transaction). Andrea was already pleasantly surprised by the home, which I remain convinced the prior owner wasn’t too sure about selling. When Andrea saw the coffee table book about golden retrievers, she was certain this was a sign that we were meant to buy this home. I am not one to disregard a sign. And? This house had an inground swimming pool that rivaled many a hotel pool I’d swam in during my youth!
I’m bumping up against deadlines with a project at work while working on juggling my other responsibilities – my boss kindly put me on a few days of “house arrest” to help me meet some of these deadlines without distraction and while hanging onto my sanity. I really hope a chipmunk falls in my pool and I get to witness it while working from home. Now, before you think I am cruel to animals (and you should know better – my pets have it made), let me explain. In the week or 2 following this years pool opening, approximately a dozen chipmunks fell in and died. Not at the same time. Gross. But one after another after another. Apparently not a single chipmunk puzzled, “Hey! Where the hell is Alvin? Haven’t seen that son of a gun in a while.” To which another chipmunk could have said, “I saw him – he fell in that water. He tried to swim… but alas, he tired and drown.” RIP, Alvin. Because had that conversation gone down, I’d like to think these dumb asses would spread the word and viola! No more chipmunks, floating in a watery grave for me to fish out. Andrea saved 2 live ones. But enough was enough, with the little chipmunk death toll steadily rising, we purchased “Frog Logs” from Amazon and since putting 3 in our pool – no more dead chipmunks! Which means they have to be working and the little chipmunks are able to use them to escape the pool. So – I hope one falls in and then gets out with one of these Frog Logs. That must be a sight to see. Anyway. I feel bad about all the chipmunks that perished before we bought these damn things. I feel bad I didn’t buy them sooner but honestly, it seemed far fetched that it would work. But, work they must. Or else, perhaps, there is chipmunk swim team and they’ve improved? But for those that went, I hope they sent their loved ones a sign they’re okay. I believe in signs like this. Last week, out of nowhere, I began receiving a Pun a Day via email from PunCrunch. When I told my mom that dad had begun emailing me from the “great beyond”, my mom sounded alarmed (and maybe skeptical) but when I forwarded one of the emails to her, she had to admit, at the very least, that these were jokes my dad would enjoy. Today’s pun was swept away by Spam (I’ve remedied that)…
What’s the difference between a poorly dressed man on a tricycle and a well-dressed man on a bicycle?
Attire
GET IT?! LOL! This June it’s been 20-years since my dad passed away – but I know he’s okay.
This afternoon, while at work, I received an email from Alice In Wonderland that read: Stay strong and beautiful.
That email was followed by an email from Blu Nelson (whoever he may be) that read:
Live not one's life as though one had a thousand years but live each day as the last.
I realize these were spam – but I’m choosing to view them as signs which is a nicer way of looking at things that thinking their spam. Besides - I think Blu's right....
