Memorial Day, 2009

These are the days I feel and sound like an old witch. Back in the day...when I was a youngster...you know, that kind of thing.

But here I go, anyway.

Denise and I went to the Memorial Day parade here in town. We don't observe Memorial Day when the rest of the world does, oh no. We observe it on the "real" day, May 30. Usually it's on a Tuesday afternoon when everyone has to work.

This parade is what tourists would call quaint, sweet, etc. There's a band riding on a bandwagon, there's a group of veterans in various uniforms, some marching, some riding in jeeps and last but not least...there's a group of schoolchildren carrying wreaths they've just made with the Grange. They'll place their wreaths on soldiers' graves in the town cemetery. One wreath will be tossed from the village bridge, like in Ode to Billie Jo.

These kids were wearing shorts, flip-flops, dirty t-shirts. I would understand if these kids couldn't afford "nice" clothes. But they can, oh they can. And I get that in 1966 we got new dresses for church and it's a different world now. I get that everyone is casual. But this just was disrespectful.

I guess it could have been worse: they could have been texting, right?

Bats all, folks

One of my acquaintances has finally left her husband. The entire town has breathed a sigh of relief because this guy is batshit crazy. (And I mean that, like, literally.)

Here's just one little example of this craziness.

Years ago they lived in a broken-down house that was kind of a mess. Evidently there was a bat problem at one time. But the bat guy came and exterminated them. Oh and this husband had a bat phobia. Well, who doesn't, right? No one enjoys them cavorting in your hair when you've just had it highlighted.

So you'd think the bat "issue" was over, but it wasn't. It turned out that the husband couldn't stay in the house because bats used to be in the house. So they had to sell the house and move. But they stayed in this little town and bought another house. Next to the woods. Actually, closer to the woods than the other house had been.

I know what you're thinking. Don't bats live in the woods? Why yes, yes they do. They live in other places, but this house was at the end of a deserted road. Where no one could hear your screams if the bats came back.

They moved into this house at the beginning of what would turn out to be a very cold winter. It was the only time the pipes froze in the house I'm living in, in like about 22 years. In the middle of this winter the husband started to smell a "smell." Like a bad smell, like sewer smell. Everyone here has his/her own septic tank/system and his/her own well for water. No city stuff here. So the husband (or wife) called an expert in and I think there ended up being a blockage somewhere and gas was seeping in.

The husband couldn't live in the house anymore. He was being poisoned. Mind you, they had two teenagers too. So they had to leave that new house and move in with neighbors. Along with their new, untrained puppy. Most of the winter they moved from neighbor to neighbor, while the problem was being fixed. Which took forever.

But before they moved back in, he opened the windows and doors, just to air out the poison one more time. And when they returned that night, guess what had moved in?

Riiiiiiight.

To be continued...

Almost cocktail hour

What I've learned on Maundy Thursday (or as I like to call it, Tuesday Wednesday):

• Sometimes when a stranger comes to the door, he's not a Jehovah's Witness.

• Sometimes even a smart funny person isn't in a joking-around mood.

• I live with someone who also lives in Old Navy Town.