me so hornets

oh, my parents like to keep the bushes in order so they periodically traipse about the yard with a hedge trimmer and some felco shears and that is how come magazines sometimes come take pictures of our yard and also politicians film campaign commercials there. i think it is great until i am supposed to take part in the trimming, then i find it unnecessary.

but so, there are casualties in every war, and this is a war story at the heart of it, you see because mom was out pruning the hedges and these crazy little fuckers decided that the pruning shears were too close to their nest. they are called white faced hornets and they don't buzz around so much as fly directly at the point on your body that is most sensitive and sting it over and over. so mom got stung, she threw down her implements and ran inside for the baking soda.

dad was swift in avenging his wife's attack, like a few hours later when i was trying to read some malcolm gladwell by the pool. he came out of the garage with some raid (which is a patented chemical product that kills stinging insects and makes dogs really curious. seriously.) and, never one to tempt fate, a broomstick. get ready to run, he told me as he steadied the broomstick like some don quixote, but with realer, if less intimidating enemies. right-oh, i responded. and "psssssssssssh..." the raid shot out as dad parried at the nest. and "psshhhhhh..." the raid immediately stopped coming out. dad looked at the can, looked up, threw the can down and started running. i leapt up from my lawn chair, threw malcolm to the grass and dove for the pool, fully clothed. i dove right past dad, as he yelled "owwww...shit!" running full tilt. i hid under the water for a few seconds to make sure the hornets passed me by and took the opportunity to scoop up my sunglasses from the bottom of the pool.

dad was inside with the baking soda. it feels like i got hit with a pan he said, looking at his wounded forearm.

i'm going to really let them have it. i'm going to wait until it is dark and they're all in their nest and i'm going to sneak up and let them have it, dad informed me.

hornets 2 - humans 0. 

at dusk, from the kitchen i saw dad in the mudroom putting raincoats on and snowpants on. muck boots. canvas hats. ski gloves. not only was he putting them on, he was trying all the options out to see what materials might be best at thwarting a stinger. finally he approached me like some wacked-out fisherman, covered head-to-toe in the most water-repellent, insulated garb he could muster and asked me to pull his mosquito net over his head. i obliged, making sure the elastic around the neckline had no slack that would allow those crazy insects any point of entry into dad's soft parts. he was ready to fight anything. 

remember that dude in jurassic park who was trying to steal the fucking embryos or dna or whatever and he's all driving in the rain storm and his car slides off the road and he's trying to winch it back up and this dinosaur starts hissing at him and spits in his eyes and then they all eat him (his name was dennis nedry)? wouldn't have happened to dad. he was impervious. 

in fact, the final battle was tame, dad employed the scorched earth policy. he razed that nest. the little fuckers never stood a chance. serves them right for living in our cuboid bushes.

new clothes, no emperor

so i will start first things first and then move to third things second before skipping my way gleefully back to the second thing last. 

just kidding.

god it was hot back a couple of weeks ago and i decided i needed something to wear to mike's wedding, so i was walking purposefully around downtown with my dad during market days in concord. (market days is when all the stores on main street put all their goods on the sidewalk for three or four days and there are bison burgers and real new hampshire maple syrup and dunking booths.) but there is this place on main street called "britches of concord" and they sell sort of middle-aged northeastern men's clothing, which, incidentally, was pretty much exactly what i was looking for. you see... nevermind. i wanted a white blazer. whatever.

so i was in this store and i was smiling at the owner, ray and asking him how to put on an ascot and if he had any white blazers and i don't think he took me very seriously and i was on the way out the door when i was like "that is a white blazer, right there on that mannequin". do you know why i was like that? because it was true. but it was a full suit. and ray told me that if it was my size he would give me 20% off so i went in the dressing room to try on the pants to see how much they needed to be taken in. 

i undid my belt and my pants button and my shorts dropped to the floor, first of all, earlier, my dad and ray had gotten a big chuckle out of my cutoff shorts, but i can't remember why. anyway, my shorts pooled at my ankles and i realized that i was naked as the day i was made. it was hot, you see, so i was underwearless. and about to try on white linen pants. i had to make a snap decision, do i beg off an tell dad and ray i don't have underwear on and that i'll come back, or do i waltz out of the dressing room in a pair of baggy white linen pants barely holding onto my hips and let some poor guy grab at my waistband to figure out the appropriate alterations...?

what do you think.

stones

i have a few stories to relate in the next couple days and we can smile together when we read them, but i have to write them first and so in lieu of writing them and posting them tonight i offer this...

it is a dangerous game and time consuming game to try and determine your five favorite rolling stones songs. first you have to ask yourself if you should take past returns into consideration. i say no. i say five favorite rolling stones songs at this moment. and is it ok to have multiple songs from the same album? sure, but it might offend your sense of symmetry. as of 2:45 am on monday, july 27th, 2009 my selections are: no expectations, shattered, miss you, country honk and monkey man.

and i am not sure if you can see the inner workings of my being based on those selections, but i don't think so. my inner being is mostly made from marshmallows and sun bears.

reflect

(and i heard greg telling matt costa about the reflection of the moon in the water and how the wind and ripples made the points of light rotate like a music box ballerina when you squinted your eyes and also how it moved like people through grand central station. and dylan and greg and i were sitting and watching it earlier and we were mesmerized together and we talked about how if we tried to explain it to the other folks at the campfire, it wouldn't make any sense. but my point is that our feelings are like that reflection in that the way our experiences effect us is unique to ourselves and sometimes our feelings intertwine with other people's feelings and we can communicate them with each other and relate, but without those shared experiences, it is impossible to convey our feelings completely. )