Coronary Symbolism
Last week on the way home from work I told Simon (who was driving) that he needs to be a little more careful with the left-hand turns across speeding traffic and the failing to slow down when rounding the curve blinded by an overgrown hedge. Also, could we please not take the route that involves the alley with the camp of sidewalk crack shack and the ever attendant sidekick pitbulls? Or the one with the shrine to the young mother whose body was dumped in the ravine a year ago next month? When I said to him, "I have four heart attacks every time we drive home," I couldn't remember if I'd already told him that or if I'd just thought it in my head eleventy billion times before. He is, as I've noted before, an excellent driver, so good that it makes me want to have his babies just so he can drive them around, but, I don't know, something about the route and the area and the general recklessness of everyone else on the road in that part of town makes me die each day at around 6 p.m.
We live in a little pocket of Eden bounded by various strains of ghetto hell--a kind of Bermuda Triangle of East Oakland, except instead of our ships/planes going down never to be heard from again save the magic of David Copperfield, our backyard fruits boomerang back to us in improved form--juiced and caffeinated and loaded with sugar. Although our neighborhood is lovely--much lovelier than our last one--it comes with its own unique challenges, including higher frequencies of cars stolen from driveways, homes broken into in broad daylight, and guard dogs getting loose and attacking anything that moves. AWESOME.
Thursday morning we were awoken by the house alarm of our next-door neighbors. Simon got up and called the alarm company and I found my glasses so that upon looking out the window I'd be able to tell a perp from a tree, if a perp indeed there was. We didn't see anyone prowling about, the alarm was turned off soon enough, and after I suggested that maybe it was just squirrels and then Simon said something cute about wee squirrel burglars, I fell back to sleep because damn it if I was going to give up that last twenty minutes of sweet, sweet slumber before the alarm went off. (Turns out it never went off and we woke up two hours late. Oops.)
And speaking of not sleeping, last night Simon was roused by the cat making distressed howly-growly noises at the back door (from the inside). She was crouched and intense in front of the sliding glass door, so he announced his presence before approaching (Have you ever surprised a cat? They can jump five feet straight up in the air and smack you in the face!) and joined her at the door. He pulled aside a corner of the curtain, figuring the squirrels were at it again (they've been nibbling our freshly planted romaine and cracking open the pruned rosehips, spilling their contents up and down the back stairs), but it wasn't squirrels, oh no, but, and I quote, "a big-ass raccoon." Hooray! A massive, mobile rabies factory right in our backyard! So cute with the little mask and the little mischievous paws of destruction and disease!
We'd heard from one neighbor that a family band of raccoons used to eat the goldfish the previous owners had kept in our pond, and maybe that's why this one had shown up. The pond, although still not working (Simon says: "fatally flawed"), is at least resembling something a fish might be able to live in. Anyhow, Simon versus the raccoon went something like this:
Simon: *whips back the curtain dramatically, raises his arms above his head, and growls menacingly*
Raccoon: *widens eyes and takes a step or two back*
Simon: *growling and standing on his tiptoes* (because 6'1" is not scary, but 6'2" totally is)
Raccoon: (internal monologue) What's with this joker? I'm not afraid of him. I was merely startled. I'm going to stand right here as long as I want because--ooh! shiny thing! *retreats down the stairs to investigate various tools left scattered about the yard because we are garden slobs*
Simon came back to bed, but not for long, as Eve was soon yowling at the raccoon again. Lather, rinse, repeat. (Keep in mind that I'm sleeping through most of this. I just thought he was getting up to pee or something.) At this point, the best he could do was keep Eve away from the door so she'd be quiet we could get some rest; let the raccoon take off with our lawn chairs and potted plants so long as he does so quietly. (Once Eve was locked out of that room, she pawed thunderously at the door for the next twenty minutes. OF COURSE.)
And speaking of not-so-silent nights, in the last month we've had two 3+ earthquakes while we're sleeping, the second of which did not wake up Simon directly but rather indirectly, as when the shaking stopped I quipped, "Ah...good times," thus ruining another night's sleep for him with my midnight vocalizations. (Sleep talker? Oh yes.) In case you've never experienced an earthquake, I meant "good times" sarcastically, as there's nothing that can jolt my heart rate to doubletime like the prospect that the earth might gape beneath my feet (or my supine body) and swallow me whole. "I feel the earth move under my feet / I feel the sky tumbling down / I feel my heart start to trembling / Whenever an earthquake wakes me up in the middle of the night and I see my life flash before my eyes and oh my god I never got to see Mount Rushmore." Thanks, Carole King!
No, there's nothing that makes my internal organs constrict quite like an earthquake. Unless it's seeing someone possibly run over a small child while speeding through the neighborhood yesterday. All I know is that the car in front of us swerved and there was a kid laying in the street. He got up and shook himself off like a wet dog, a huge group of other kids gathered around him, and the driver backed up and, I imagine, gave them all quite a talking to. Meanwhile, Simon helped me pull my fingers from the seat cushion, where I had buried them like the heads of so many ostriches.
So, basically, it's one heart attack after another around here, if you'll allow me to count the ones where I'm mostly still sleeping. Here's hoping the weekend treats you well and the only wild animals or natural disasters you encounter involve finding a nest of newborn kittens and/or finding yourself stranded in a freak summer blizzard of maccaroons (or the cookie of your choice).
~ (because 6'1" is not scary, but 6'2" totally is) ~
Thank you for the laugh. I hope your heart rate has returned to normal!
Sounds like fun. The adventures never end, eh?
That was a great entry, Leah; once again you've made me giggle!
I've only experienced one earthquake in my life, which isn't all that strange, as I am an East Coast Girl (who is hip, they really dig those stylish clothes I wear). Anyway, when I was in college, in upstate NY, I was woken up by an earthquake. I groggily thought, "Is that a train? No, the train has never shaken the whole house before. Why is my bed moving? OMG IS THIS AN EARTHQUAKE? I AM IN UPSTATE NY, IT CAN'T BE."
But, of course, it was, which I figured and then had confirmed by the news later that morning. Wild!
Yea, I'm really not looking forward to my first earthquake! And freeway driving here still stresses me out, the sheer number of arrogantly reckless assclowns is amazing.
The 6'2" quote was my favourite too :)
Earthquakes??
Suddenly I'm busy next weekend. I have to wash my hair. It could take awhile, you know. So, bummer!
Earthquakes??
Suddenly I'm busy next weekend. I have to wash my hair. It could take awhile, you know. So, bummer!
Earthquakes??
Suddenly I'm busy next weekend. I have to wash my hair. It could take awhile, you know. So, bummer!
It's like living at Disney Land, but with smaller rodents! And the rides cost less.
I was once woken up in the middle of an earthquake and told "We're having an earthquake" apparently saying "So why did you wake me? I can't stop it" was the wrong thing to say.
check this out:
http://oakland.crimespotting.org/
Will,
It looks like they're a little light on Hoes in the Oak Town Area. Maybe you could send some up from L.A. to help get that stat up a little. ;)
Ted - I was shocked...shocked I tell you at the utter lack of prostitution arrests. I don't think the cops are even trying.
What can I say but we're a ho-friendly community. "Genital contractors" we call them.
har-har
My boyfriend gets extremely agitated and annoyed when I make remarks about his driving. Unfortunately, I don't think he's a good driver. He drives passive aggressively (i.e. increases speed when people want to pass him). But that combined with Florida's high rate of automobile causalities always makes me hyperventilate.
Who ever imagined the guessed creating a mosque at ground zero was probably a good idea? I am no great fan of both Glen Beck or Sarah Palin yet , in contrast to Obama and the ridiculous current administration, the two of these are geniuses, get real The us, there is a bit of unusual stuff going on. Jessica.
Drama drama drama..Da*n can anybody be a good role model?! Why is it so hard for black women to support each other w/out being envious
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