Her Green Figs

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.

11 September 2006


My house has been broken into four times in the last two weeks. I was perfectly aware of the risk and willing to accept it when I bought into that neighborhood, so I wasn't surprised or much upset until this last time. This time they took my big, fancy, expensive, never-used grill off my back porch. This makes me mad. I'm quite happy to buy all new lawn equipment and bicycles and power tools like they liberated from my shed, but taking my grill is going too far. I've gotta call the insurance company.

I met the nicest cops this last time. They stuck around and chatted for almost an hour when they came to write up the report. They confirmed that I'm doing almost everything I can for the house: lights, curtains, etc. I did order a security system, though, which I'll install tomorrow once UPS brings it. The cops also suggested that I really really need to move in. I know that. They agreed that a dog would be smart too.

And I've been thinking about getting a dog anyway. I thought I wanted a chocolate lab (mixed with beagle, if possible), but I took this breed matcher quiz thing on the Animal Planet Website and they had some other suggestions, though the lab is a good match for me too. I'll need a fence though.

Tomorrow I WILL WRITE THE WORKSHOP for Wednesday. I've put it off for 9 months, so tomorrow really is the very last possible moment. Go me. I can't wait to get it over with. I can hardly say how very much I don't want to do it, though putting it off for 9 months should give you a clue.

I want to take Thursday as a little vacation, which I will have earned by doing the stupid workshop. I want to drive down to the beach and sit in a chair and read a book and let the wind whip my hair and coat my face with salt and then I want to walk for miles up and down the shore looking for sea glass and porpoise. However, I have invited MGBF to join me, and, if he goes, we will have a cooler of fancy snacks and swim then dinner at the Post Office. A different experience, but also nice. Since he doesn't seem to be talking to me much anymore, though, he will likely not acknowledge my invitation. Either way, I can stop at my favorite roadside farm market on earth and stock up on pimiento cheese, tomato pie, and pecan bars.

Who needs to paint walls and pry up the weird asbestos lining that was under the cabinets Dad and I ripped out on Saturday.

EK will be coming into some money soon and intends to buy a toy car. We have planned an evening where *I* drive it out to the rural county he administers and then we two go to this roadhouse I saw once, made out of an old metal cotton gin. I liked the idea so much I wished I could run it myself, but I was also too chicken to go in without a "passport." EK will be my passport, and I may bring MGBF if he ever speaks to me again.

By not speaking to me, I mean that he won't answer text messages, voice mails, or actual calls, but he will kiss me good morning and good night and be enthusiastically gregarious when I run into him.

I had a Scarlett at the Barbecue moment today, sitting outside my classroom with a crowd of beautiful young boys crowded around chatting and cracking jokes. I almost expected one of them to get up and bring me a dessert. One of those boys is this semester's student crush.

I wonder if I could keep guinea hens within the city limits? What would my theoretical chocolate lab do with that?


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