Special to The Sun
An email buddy complains that I write about nothing other than slivers of my own life, and of course he’s right. It’s because I’m all that I know. Also because I think my readers can relate ... might even like knowing they’re not alone. Haven’t we all experienced irritations, embarrassing events and moments of panic like these I’m about to share?
Today is our second full day of summer 2013, but don’t ask which season it replaced. Apparently spring didn’t happen this year. I paid a couple of men a jillion dollars two months ago to plant a Chinese Pistache tree in my front yard. I watered it as instructed, holding off on those days after clouds had dumped gallons of water on their own. The tree appeared to be dying in earnest before the first month had passed, and it turns out it was.
Spring is tree-planting season, right? If there’d been a spring this year, shouldn’t my tree be flourishing now? “The leaves will turn yellow if you’re watering too much,” said the tree man. “You’re not watering enough if they turn brown.” The leaves on my tree turned every irritating color but green before they fell off.
The man said he’d come next week to haul my Pistache away, and that he’d give me a voucher for a replacement next spring ... assuming there is a spring next year. I’ll let you and the Edmond Better Business Bureau know the man’s name if he doesn’t make good on his promise.
Now for my embarrassing confession: It’s early Saturday afternoon and I’d planned to space out on the sofa and re-watch the “Amadeus” DVD I’d been saving. For an electronically challenged woman, I’d been managing the Blu Ray’s buttons surprisingly well, but not this time. An hour later, after all else had failed, rather than slit my wrists I phoned the store where I’d bought the machine. Almost immediately the owner appeared in my living room (on a Saturday afternoon!) kindly suggesting I turn on the power surge protector that the machine was plugged into. Good movie but my face is still red.
The panic event I’m about to share involves an absent neighbor’s howling dog caught out in a frightening storm and both of us growing more hysterical by the minute. At one point I was halfway out the door intending to trespass beyond the neighbor’s fence and bring the dog to shelter on my back patio before it occurred to me that — if lightning didn’t get me first — I’d be dead before I took the first step onto the dog’s territory.
Several phone calls later I managed to reach the owner. He came home and resolved the dog’s problem but not mine. I thought my heart would never settle down. Still rattles my chest when I think about it.
Sorry, email buddy. Life slivers it’s always been, and slivers it must remain.
MARJORIE ANDERSON is an Edmond resident.