Sprung

Spring has sprung as evidenced by this little gathering of daffodils photographed through the fence that separates my drive from Neighbor Man's yard. And a little daffodil hanging out in my own yard just in front of the first azaleas. The day, happy to have an extra hour, held all the promise of the spring to come.

A Dear John Letter

Dear John:
I stayed up really late to see you on The Tonight Show last night. And that's a sacrifice for a working girl like me (especially when my neighbor was out on his porch shouting AGAIN at 6 AM this morning, but that's another story). Your performance did not disappoint, but, John, dear, what were you wearing? Seriously, this is national television, and you kind of looked like you just got out of bed. That long robe-y looking coat and the pajama pants and those Chuck Taylors that looked - dare I say it - like platform sneakers? You looked a bit disheveled.

Did you check out the guy next to you before you went on stage? Your backup vocal guitar player? He was wearing a shirt and tie and pressed pants and looked rather dapper. And I know that's not you, but look at this picture I found of you - this is much, much better. A nice t-shirt, some rock star jeans, and that guitar is fabulous.

So anyway, John, I just wanted to say, check yourself in the mirror next time. You're a good-looking guy - I know you can work it. But stellar performance. That guitar solo was hot. And you've won me over on the new hair. Love the new album. Keep up the good work.

XOXO,
Ash

Shut It!

Dear Neighbor Man:
Even though you smile at me sometimes in the morning and raise your hand in greeting, we are not friends. And our mutual love of our back porches is beginning to be problematic. I don't even know if you've noticed that I'm out here. Why? Because I'm sitting here quietly working on my laptop, a couple of candles burning, a cat - generally unobtrusive.

Could you take a tip from me and shut up?! Seriously, there's only three of you on the porch so you don't need to shout. Or if you do need to shout, it's only because you've got the classic rock turned up so loud you can't hear one another. Although from what I can tell, all three of you are absolute nitwits and not worth hearing anyway. And I don't mean to be unkind, but that woman you're with has a truly wretched laugh. I can't stand it. And she seems to think you and your other companion are exceedingly funny.

I really, really love my porch, so I can understand why you also love your porch - especially in this weather when it's so lovely to be outside and have the windows open. But I do not, I repeat DO NOT, need to hear Steve Miller Band's "Jet Airliner" at 2:30 this Sunday morning like I did last. Judging from the way you're just getting started over there with your shouting and your odious laughing and that ugly band of green lights you've got running around the railing, I'm not hopeful. But I just thought I'd ask. Maybe I should shout so you can hear me.

THANKS!
Ash

The Good Stuff

After a somewhat scary experience converting to Blogger Beta, I decided to embrace its new qualities. I'm not as daring as Kim, who gave The Unwilling Adult a blog-lift. But I did go through and tag all my posts so that if you likey one you can find the others like it. I realized going through that I had a lot of complaints on the blog. So in an effort to give you something uplifting in lieu of the traditional negative fare, I give you the following list of good things about the weekend:

* New haircut (that I still like today) * Two books read * Much quality time spent with Kudzu (who very much enjoyed having his belly rubbed) * Finished Season 5 of Sex & the City * Did not eat out once but cleaned out some leftovers and saved money * Had a delicious red apple after dinner * Watched less TV this weekend than I can remember in a long time * Had lovely walk to church and back this morning * Enjoyed back porch reading once again * Felt kindly toward neighbor who was also on his back porch and playing classic rock loudly * Wished Mom & Dad happy 39th wedding anniversary * Talked to the parents-to-be about baby books * Vowed to have better attitude about work than in recent days * Laughed out loud at least twice while reading * Took a nap

An Impooptant Matter

Dear Neighbor Man With Dog (And Bad Hair),

I know that the strip of grass between the sidewalk and our street is not really technically anyone’s yard. But I walk through that grass everyday to get to my car. I sort of think of it as my yard annex.

I’ve noticed in the time I’ve been living in my apartment that you generally walk your dog right before I leave for work, often in my yard annex. And I also notice that you don’t pick up after the dog. Now, I don’t blame this on the dog. She can’t help your lack of manners. But truly, this is your responsibility.

I know it’s unpleasant to handle the poo. I know because I stepped in it this morning and got it on my open-toed heels, my car and most dreadfully my foot. I had to be late for work because of scrubbing my carpet and shampooing my heel and fully disinfecting my foot.

I don’t think it’s too much to ask. And please don’t think it’s because I have a cat and don’t like dogs. I love dogs. Really I do. But I don’t love your dog’s poo. So please – scoop the poop. Or you may find some kitty treats on your front lawn.

Sincerely,
Poo Shoe