One thing about it, these titles are easy 😉

You might get a poem today. Or you might not. Let’s see where this goes.

So concludes the ten days of Christmas and tomorrow I will begin tearing down, bad as I hate to. Yes, I could leave it up for another month, or heck, all year, but isn’t that what makes things special? The anticipation and the overall looking-forward-to-it-iveness? So I’ll pack it up. Sigh. Something is going on with my big tree’s lights, anyway, so best to get that taken down and out of here before it burns the house to the ground.

I was coming down the ol’ pike today (as my beloved late uncle called it) and I noticed a delivery type van pulling into my aunt’s driveway. It was a little late for the mail, and I hadn’t ordered any packages and I figured she hadn’t either. As I get closer, I decide it wasn’t a true delivery van at all, as it was a bit worse for the wear, and not in the FedEx “I’m in too big of a hurry to run through the car wash” state of dereliction. I’m now watching from my driveway, and the driver hasn’t disembarked. He pulls around the loop and to the top of the rise and throws his hand up at me. I don’t wave back, because I can’t tell who it is and I don’t want to install a false sense of hospitality when I’d just as soon shoot you if you’re bein’ nosy.

And derned if he don’t pull out here. I open my car door to get out and shut my gate before he gets any ideas about encroaching on my territory. I have my bag, complete with Annie. Dude has the audacity to stick the nose of his van through my gate entrance.

I detest feeling trapped.

He waves again.

I narrow my eyes and continue to march forward.

He hops out and around the front of his seedy van. He makes some comment about the weather or what have you.

“Who you huntin’?“ I ask, cutting to the chase.

“Anybody with a hungry stomach and an open mouth,” he quips with a grin that hasn’t been seen by a dentist in a decade or five.

I narrow my eyes further at his riddle. “Oh, you’re selling food,” I say, gesturing towards his vehicle.

“Yes ma’am!” He crows, obviously pleased that I got his little joke.

“Well, I’ve just been to the grocery store,” I tell him as nicely as possible. I’m for anybody trying to make a living. I just don’t appreciate them doing it in my driveway. Call me territorial.

“I’ve got some really good deals…” he wheedles.

I make a shooing motion with my hands. “You best be on your way,” I tell him plainly.

“Yes ma’am. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” I echo. And I stood in the way to make it clear he wouldn’t be turning around in my yard. He backs away and parks at my neighbors. I beat a trail to the house to unleash the hound.

Dude is ringing the dinner bell on the porch next door when Chester lunges out and makes for the fence. So if he was casing the joint, hopefully that was enough to make him cross us off his list of potential sites.

Friendly, I ain’t.

I don’t really like pineapple. I’ve tried. I think I foundered on it as a child when my mamaw and aunt visited and then had an entire pallet shipped back. I like it IN stuff, like pineapple mango salsa, or with fish. I like ham & pineapple pizza (thanks to JA). But as a snack? No, thank you. In a fruit bowl? I’ll eat around it. Give me grapes, apples, and peaches. Or even kiwi.

I’m just sitting here admiring all my Christmas decorations for the final night. Back to drab and un-sparkly tomorrow, blah.

All for now. So no poem. You might have gotten one if I hadn’t gotten on the phone with a heartbroken friend. Heartbroken friends always come before exercising, even if it’s writing exercises. Here’s to tomorrow, when I’ve possibly spent part of the day pondering on something important and I can expound on deep, penetrating pensive thoughts and y’all don’t have to read more rambling crap.

Sleepless in Seymour,

~Amy