Skip to main content

Sea of Glass


Over the last few days, I've read several posts practically mourning the first day of school, but daughter #2 is a junior this year, so I'm beyond lamenting the end of summer. Here is the notable event of our family's first day:

It's Thursday, which means it's garbage day in Small Town. I got up early this morning and dragged a couple of cans chock full of trash to the curb and set them down right by the mail box (for some reason, my garbage men become irritated if I put the trash on the other side of the driveway, and they are known to throw the cans halfway into the yard in protest). So, I put the cans in the correct spot to appease the grisly looking trash collectors.

Part of my Thursday thrill is returning home in the afternoon and being able to ram my car into the now-empty cans and watching them tumble and roll into the bushes. I suppose the thrill is rooted in some deep need to express aggression and hostility. Whatever the reason, that is part of the afternoon. But this morning, with #2 in the car, all dressed in her coolest new getup, I pulled the Pacifica out of the garage and backed straight into the biggest of the two cans, knocking it over and spilling its rubbish into the street, or so I thought. Turns out, the only thing that escaped was an empty wine bottle, a nice royal blue one. I pulled over to right the can so the neighbors wouldn't have to swerve around it, and I rolled right over the bottle, spraying a million pieces of glass into a pretty pattern with a circumference the size of a swimming pool. Sigh.
Here's a picture of a small bit of the mess, right before I bent over in my flowing skirt to sweep it up. #2 thought we should toss it all into the sea so that some lucky beach comber would discover the sea glass someday. It's a lovely idea, but instead I chucked it. Well, at least it was an enjoyable supply of Reisling.

Comments

Ms Mac said…
Ooooh, a pretty bottle! I'd have bought that wine in a heartbeat!

#2's idea was a lovely one, my horrible boys never think of lovely things like that. Wanna swap?

Popular posts from this blog

Am I Stupid, or What?

In two weeks, I will climb up into a charter bus, take my assigned seat, and ride 22 hours straight to Orlando, Florida. I will be a chaperon with the high school marching band, which will perform at Disney's Magic Kingdom--me and 180 people on four big buses for seven days. We will travel together, eat together, play together, fall down exhausted together--and after 22 hours, I suspect stink to high heaven together. Because of the crazy schedule, we will leave Ohio at 6 pm, travel all night and most of the next day, and spend several hours at MGM Studios before ending up at the hotel sometime after 7 pm. After I check in with the eight girls I am to supervise, I intend to shower and shower and shower. I intend to wear clean clothes and socks and brush my teeth until my toothbrush wears out. Of all the things I could be concerned about on this trip, being dirty seems to weigh heaviest on my mind. One of my eight charges could run off and do bad things with her boyfriend, but I'...

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

An Offending Pile

So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time . Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up ...