Cratering

A half-stack doesn't fit in the trunk.

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Cratering

a half-stack doesn't fit in the trunk
Trudging toward solstice.
I watch the squirrels clamber around, gorging on the berries. As they pick the tree clean, they have to venture out onto ever smaller branches, and they struggle to maintain their grip and balance.

Trudging toward solstice.

I watch the squirrels clamber around, gorging on the berries. As they pick the tree clean, they have to venture out onto ever smaller branches, and they struggle to maintain their grip and balance.

Memorandum

To: children of the 1400-1500 blocks of Franklin Ave.
From: the crazy old man in the house with the ivy by the school
Re: snow removal for the duration of the 2010/2011 winter season

Sorry, kids, I just don’t have it in me anymore. I just can’t bear to face my shovel, or my snowblower, or my 50lb bags of magnesium chloride again this season. I’m through. I give up. Surrender. So, therefore, you’re going to have to trudge through unshoveled snow in front of my house for the rest of this winter while you’re walking to school. Based on recent history, there’s only another 13 weeks of winter, after which we’ll enjoy our customary 12 hours of spring and then it will be 95º for the next five months. The sidewalks should be mostly clear then.

In the interim, hopefully that guy with the 450HP hemi V8 snowblower—the one with the Alpine stereo and the espresso machine, the one he usually fires up at 0400 every weekend morning—will hook us up like he sometimes does and clear the whole east side of the street. I trust you enjoy the Wagner he blares as much as I do. Kill the Wabbit.

Otherwise, you’re on your own. Think of it as a character building exercise. When you’re older, you can even embellish the story so that the walk was uphill. To be honest, some of you look like you could use the extra exercise, anyway. Put down the DS once in a while. Have the au pair take you out to help the gardeners, or something.

Cordially,

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Crazy, Old, Broken-Sprited Man