Thursday, August 21, 2008

Baiting Bears


(Puzzle piece number 18 of 38.)
Hiking with my buddy one morning, we noticed particular people’s garbage had been strewn onto streets in our neighborhood. As you know, there can be only three reasons this would occur.

One, a person is concerned about their neighbor and seeks to ascertain if he is eating nutritiously. So the person peruses the leftovers, leaves a mess, and, perhaps, a healthy meal on the porch.

Two, a neighbor is searching for treasures. You know the saying: One man’s junk…

Three, the person is intentionally or unintentionally baiting bears.

I’d guess the latter.

Now, it’s possible that a person must leave early for work and bears are still foraging. It’s also possible that silly gooses set their garbage out the night before pickup day. I’d like to cook those “gooses.” Garbage strewn looks bad, spreads disease, makes sanitation workers have to pick up some of the mess, and leads me to carry a bag and wear latex on my morning hikes—and I’m not talking condoms.

Bears don’t like stopping by my place—not enough meat, and by now my ex-boyfriend has disintegrated. I’ve been primarily a vegetarian since I was 18, which was, hmm, 16 years ago. Even when I toss my veggie scraps in the compost heap, the bears just poop and leave. I have yet to see my second bear, while most of my neighbors see them looking into their windows, hopping onto their cars, strolling through their yards, and bringing their cubs by to visit the lady who feeds the deer.

It’s just not fair! All I get to see are its spillovers, but I’m awaiting…with bated breath!

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

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Regulating Dust


(Puzzle piece number 17 of 38.)
Fall is in the air, which is sort of depressing. School has begun, days are getting shorter, it’s cooler in the morning, and I have to wear clothes.

I love summertime, long days, smiling spirits, sundresses on girls, poetry popping out of every living thing. I love the dance of people peeling off their winter doldrums and starting to socialize again. Neighbors nourish their plants, repair their homes, say hi, and seem to have more time to be friendly and say too much.

When it’s cold, it’s almost as if our arms are too frozen to wave, our faces too stiff to grin.

One of my routines for autumn preparation is to moisten cloths with bleach-water, place them over my registers, and start the furnace fan. Dust that has settled in the ducts blows into the cloth, and any bacteria or viruses will be seriously injured when bumping into the bleach.

Don’t use too much bleach, though. My ex-husband reminds me of his pink underwear. When married, working 60 hours a week, and clothes needed to be washed, I’d toss everything in at the same time. Eventually my ex didn’t let me do the wash anymore : )

Back to the cloths over the registers: Don’t leave them on for more than a minute, or the furnace may bite the dust.

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

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A Note to Burglars


(Puzzle piece number 16 of 38.)
If any of you guys ever enters our home again, just don’t take my food stamps!

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

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http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2008/08/a-note-to-burglars.html

Monday, August 18, 2008

Violated


(Puzzle piece number 15 of 38.)
Something strange and scary happened yesterday, a Sunday. My daughter and I finally went out, had lunch, and shot pool. That’s strange in itself, because we’ve been extremely conservative and boring this summer.

The scary part was coming home. Our alarm had been disarmed, and my daughter found our chef’s knife lying on the kitchen floor.

Stupidly, she and I searched the entire house. It appeared that no doors or windows had been entered in the main two levels of the house. In the lower level were our Lab and two cats, one of which would have taken a serious bite out of crime had he been given the chance. But he hadn’t. He was blocked by a loosely hung door between the upstairs hallway and stairs that descend to our lower level. When the door is bumped, it bangs against its frame and makes an abrupt, jarring noise—enough to scare anyone out of the house. And we’re presuming that is why no one was in the house when we arrived.

After the initial shock, I realized I’d lost my reading glasses downtown and was on the phone trying to locate them. My daughter was in her room changing clothes. I then called the friend we had just played pool with to tell him about our experience, when suddenly my daughter shrieked and ran toward me, face flushed, frightened like I’d never seen before.

“Mom! Man!” she screamed. I immediately thought he was in our house, so I flew out the door expecting her to follow as I abruptly ended my phone conversation. I couldn’t understand why she headed in a different direction, until I saw she’d put her shoes on. “He’s on the side of the house!” she screamed, and proceeded to chase the guy! I immediately dialed 911, ran after my daughter, explained our emergency to the operator, then had my daughter describe the offender she saw standing outside her window.

Within about four minutes, four police cars were in front of our home, and my friend, who flew from across town to help, reported that two more police cars were on the adjacent street. We explained to three of the officers where the guy had run, and within four minutes, one officer ran for his car, which he mounted like his steed and drove at about 50 on our 20-mile-per-hour street.

Two officers saw the guy and chased him into a large field two blocks away, then lost him amidst some cattails and possibly into an apartment. Within another 10 to 15 minutes, the police had CSPD K-9 dog unit searching the area.

By 8 p.m. it was starting to get dark. The two officers who had seen the thug left the other officer to take info for the report. We deduced that the criminal had scaled a back wall with the help of a children’s swimming pool and entered through an open garage window 10 feet up. Like too many homeowners, the door between the garage and house was not locked.

We feel violated, trapped in a way. Does this mean we can’t keep our windows open? Do we have to stay home and guard our house like a dog would—if his owners don’t cordon him off from a particular area? Must we be hypervigilant about locking our doors, about whom we open our doors to?

Apparently.

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

If you like it, link it!
http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2008/08/violated.html