Showing posts with label angels of mercy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angels of mercy. Show all posts

Monday, June 14, 2010

She and Her Old John Deere...

Yep, these {women} could have a lucrative career making cover art for country music albums. Just dress up these 50++ {cough} seductresses {cough} in light pink sports bras (?), khaki shorts, white socks and gray boots, and pose them draped over the hood of a vintage John Deere riding mower.

(Wow! That sports bra proves the old, amended, sayin' that "Some [imaginary] things are best left to the imagination"... and that mid-drift is no longer mid-... it done drifted eastward, westward and southward!)

Nevertheless - Voila! - Compelling illustrative art for Vince Gill's song, "One More Last Chance."


…
Well, she might’ve took my car keys
But she forgot about my old John Deere.


Give me just'a one more last chance
Before you say, “We’re through.”
I know I drive you crazy, baby;
It’s the best that I can do.


We’re just some good ol’ boys, a-makin’ noise...
…

Boy, howdy! Such was the sight and sounds at 7:20 this morning. Nothing stirs the blood (or boils it!) and awakens the soul to the endless, unattainable, possibilities of the day like the vision of Corky piloting a John Deere mower the size and sound of an alfalfa cutter around their postage-stamp front lawn. (And, if she lets her naturally grey Marge Simpson (c) hair grow a little - and overhauls her wardrobe - she could look just like Pink on that tractor. The resemblance is so unnerving it's scary!) I'm also positive that two dozen passes barely guarantee that every single blade of grass - or weed - comes under the swath of the giant cutter - twice or thrice.



Incidentally, this green and yellow internal combustion machine with a huge vacuum system was likely the instrument of compassion used in the BDGs' capacity as Florence Nightingale when "I [Lynda] took care of the... the owners of that house we took care of 'til they passed away. And then the daughter come in, and somehow they..." {and she trails off, as usual}

Today promised to be a hot 'un, so the chore just HAD to be done as early as possible. Of course, there MAY have been another reason to fire up the machine so early... given that the "hot day" argument did not compel the massive mowing of the teeny-tiny patch of grass in the business yard out back until an hour later, at 8:20. Perhaps breakfast intervened... or they were waiting for verification that I was awake.

Maybe they should start the next bi-diem* or semi-weekly** or weekly*** grass cutting at 6:00 a.m. so as not to conflict with the 7:00 a.m. yard radio startup**** - or with breakfast.

(Hello, MPD? She's riding her old John Deere around again in tight little circles... Yeah, I know... "You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the...")

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* bi-deim - occuring every two days.
** semi-weekly - occuring twice a week.
*** weekly - occuring once a week.
**** never - occurrence of thought by a BDG.
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Monday, May 17, 2010

Camels' Noses and the Travel Trailer Flim-Flam

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Hosea 8: 7  For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind: it hath no stalk: the bud shall yield no meal: if so be it yield, the strangers shall swallow it up. 


Life has a way of "rewarding" people in different ways. Saturday I went over to greet a woman and her husband who were visiting the property across the street from mine. Bonnie, who now lives in another state, was visiting family members - and the home where she grew up. She stopped by to inspect the cleanup work recently done to prepare the two-acre parcel for sale. We had a most interesting chat, especially when the subjects turned to:
It seems our very own, home-grown-in-the-neighborhood, Florence and Her Merry Troupe of Nightingale Nurses had inveigled* the widowed owner (Bonnie's mother) to allow them to "place" their dog in her front yard for protection and allow them to "store" their travel trailer in her driveway to give the place a "lived in" appearance. (Probably because they couldn't cram one more big metal box onto their own half-acre business yard (actually an R-1 residential lot) without causing vehicular gridlock! That would be bad for business...)

Anyway, last October, Bonnie called and asked the Barefoot Dirty Girls to move the travel trailer. She was assured it would be taken care of... but it wasn't. (No big surprise to those who know the BDGs.)

I was unaware of Bonnie's dealings when, on the last day of last November, I filed a code enforcement complaint on the travel trailer at 785 Fishback for noncompliance with a city ordinance. I knew the problem would eventually go home to roost where it ought; my only hope was that the owner of 785 Fishback (Bonnie) would not be too inconvenienced. This back story has to be the reason for the surprisingly fast code enforcement response.

After the December 1st inspection (Shim Sham Shimmy), a Notice of Violation was issued on December 7th. Indeed, Bonnie's mom got the notice - with its imminent fine in the event of noncompliance. Bonnie called Manteca police and code enforcement and got one story, then called the BDGs and got a different story - and an insolent hang-up by the alpha female. In an immediate followup call, Bonnie delivered an ultimatum - either move the trailer NOW, or it will be towed. On December 13th, the homeless travel trailer was moved across the street to 810 Fishback, to proudly take up residence alongside the myriad cast-offs and detritus** of a failed business, and other nonconforming uses maintained by the ex-T-uLCers.



And here's some redneck humor for you - the BDGs also demanded $3,000 for the gravel they dumped across the street to park their travel trailer on. Three thousand dollars would buy thirty-three cubic yards of crushed basalt. A local price for crushed basalt (delivered) is $90.95 per cubic yard. Five yards are around $450. What shysters!... Go pound rocks into sand!
 
Also during the recent property cleanup, some stuff in a shed started going into dumpsters - until the BDGs came screaming across the street and claiming ownership of the junk. They were told the items would be stacked in the carport and they could reclaim it from there; anything remaining would be tossed.
 
As the modern-day story unfolded, two things came to mind. The first was a statement Lynda made March 3, 2009 in city council meeting.
Ms. Allen: ... I've been there so long and actually I took care of the... the owners of that house we took care of 'til they passed away. And then the daughter come in, and somehow they...
She made it appear she was taking care of the owners and property at 786 Fishback as well as the owner and property at 785 Fishback. (See? The neighborhood Florence Nightingale. But don't believe it - she uses and abuses people to her own ends.)
 
The second thing that came to mind is a very ancient tale: 
The Camel's Nose In The Tent

One cold night, as an Arab sat in his tent, a camel gently thrust his nose under the flap and looked in. "Master," he said, "let me put my nose in your tent. It's cold and stormy out here." "By all means," said the Arab, "and welcome" as he turned over and went to sleep.
A little later the Arab awoke to find that the camel had not only put his nose in the tent but his head and neck also. The camel, who had been turning his head from side to side, said, "I will take but little more room if I place my forelegs within the tent. It is difficult standing out here." "Yes, you may put your forelegs within," said the Arab, moving a little to make room, for the tent was small.
Finally, the camel said, "May I not stand wholly inside? I keep the tent open by standing as I do." "Yes, yes," said the Arab. "Come wholly inside. Perhaps it will be better for both of us." So the camel crowded in. The Arab with difficulty in the crowded quarters again went to sleep. When he woke up the next time, he was outside in the cold and the camel had the tent to himself.
 
Nahum 1: 3  The Lord is slow to anger, and great in power, and will not at all acquit the wicked: the Lord hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet.

 
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* inveigle [ɪnˈviːgəl] (verb)  to lead someone into a situation or persuade to do something by cleverness or trickery; cajole. Ex., to inveigle customers into spending more.

[from Old French avogler to blind, deceive, from avogle blind, from Medieval Latin "ab oculis" without eyes]


** detritus (noun) debris: the remains of something that has been destroyed or broken up;
loose material, such as stone fragments, silt, etc. that is worn away from rocks.

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