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Archive for June, 2012

I know when you’ve seen a similar image as the one to your left here at Greetings From Coupeville, you’ve thought, “Oh, goodness, that girl must be felling trees,”  and, normally, you’d be right.  Well, I don’t actually fell the trees, but it’s fun to wear my hard hat when I watch Texas Zen Rick work his magic on a busted up conifer.  No, my dear readers, I have taken to wearing my gear to protect me from:

Oh, don’t you dare oooohhhh and aaaahhhhh until you’ve heard my side of the story.  You’ve been coming here long enough to know there’s always a story, and they’re true.  No, really, they are.  So, before I make a sharp left turn down a road of no return, let me begin my tale.

The weather here has been warm, but wet, and that means everything is growing at lightning speed.  You know how you plant zucchini seeds one day and the next day you see one of those beautiful yellow-orange blossoms and the next day there’s a 32 pound, 5 foot long zucchini knocking on your door?  Well, that’s how my four plus acres is growing this season, and when it grows that fast, I have to mow and hoe daily to keep up with it.   Why, since I last wrote to you, I’ve  mowed the entire back field, laid down 60 bags of mulch, 400 pounds of rock around (not the clock) the boat garden, hauled more debris to the back of the property, and mowed around more slugs than Carter has pills.  (Who is Carter and what kind of pills does Carter have?)  Yes, I actually stop the lawnmower and the weed whacker when I spot one of my slimy friends.  I’ve gotten so brave I can pick them up with my double gloved hand and move them out of harm’s way.   There are those, who shall remain nameless, who mock me for sparing said slugs, but on a number of occasions I have suffered the consequence of their severed bodies as they splatter against my goggles, and so I must admit, my thoughtfulness is self-serving.  And again,  I remind you, if you are mowing and weed whacking in heavily slug-filled areas, keep your mouth closed.  Oh, I see I actually did make a sharp left turn down that road…U-turn…So, when I came back to the house after hours of mowin’ and hoein’, much to my surprise I was accosted, yes, I say accosted by the bird in the above photo and he wasn’t alone.  He and his partner had moved into the third story of my four-story SubBirdbia condo.  (Her photo is blurry because she launched herself in my direction and I had to duck behind the car).  At least this time I didn’t turn and run into the sliding glass door like that time when the angry robin that isn’t really a robin, but looks like a robin dive bombed me on the deck for getting too close to the nest she built  under MY deck.  Seriously, before I enter their space I jiggle my car keys and call a friendly greeting, but to no avail.  To get to my car now I have to bob and weave to avoid their air strikes.  I thought about changing my routine and parking the car down on the lower driveway and coming  up the back stairs, but the look on my friend’s face when I suggested it, read: Are you insane?  To which I said, “Remember The BirdsThe Birds Poster

I saw what happened to poor Tippi Hedren.  My eyes may not be what they used to be, but I’ve grown accustom to them in their sockets.”

When I told the birders down at Local Grown about my plight, they asked, “What kind of bird is it?”  “Mean,” I said.  I’ve grown accustomed to the guys rolling their eyes.   The next series of questions, came fast and furious. “What color is the breast?  How long are the wings?  Did they swoop?  Were they catching insects in the air or hunting on the ground?”  Good God, I’ve got eye floaters!  I can hardly see the birds, let alone see if they’re pulling insects out of the air.  Species like Shrike, Swallow, Starling were bandied about as they flipped through the pages of a bird book for potential perpetrators, but I wasn’t able to make a positive ID.  They make it look so easy on Castle.

Until they leave, I’ll keep jiggling my keys, calling out my “hellllooooo,” and bobbing and weaving my way to the car; all the while wearing my hard hat and goggles.  I’d wear my gloves, but I can’t get the car door opened fast enough.   So, if the next time you see me and I’m wearing an eye patch, you’ll know I didn’t bob fast enough.

 

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I know it’s been awhile since I wrote to you, but I’ve been busy reading all about online book marketing through  Author Websites, Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn; learning what tagging means (I always thought it meant you were it – and in a weird way, I guess it still does), ping backs…Whoa!  Hold on there little missy, you say.  Did you say Author Websites?  Why, yes, I say.  I most certainly did.  And you know why? I ask.  Because (drum roll) my book, The Last Supper Catering Company, is due out late summer (if not sooner) at Amazon and on Kindle.  I know you’re used to me talking about power equipment, mulch, slugs, mowin’ and hoein’, and the Sow Bug Family Circus (I haven’t forgotten that I promised you the latest news on them several posts ago — I’m still trying to figure out how to break the news to you), but I just couldn’t wait to show you the cover proof for my book.

If you double-click on the cover, you’ll see my mediocre photo of it up close and personal.  My very own ISBN will appear where the white box is now.  How great is that?   And it gets even better with an endorsement quote from Nick Bantock on the cover.  Somebody pinch me.  Needless to say, I’m pee my pants excited (but sometimes that also happens if I laugh or cough too hard) about the next phase of my journey.  Oh, I’ll still be sending you Greetings from Coupeville – somebody’s gotta keep you abreast of my small town doings – but I’ll also be blogging at my new website (still under construction).  As soon as the site is ready, I’ll let you know.   And when it is ready, come along on the ride with me.

Until next time, keep your hoe sharp and always check your boots before putting them on.

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