I'd like to start a Nature Re-claimancy organization. Possibly run by the National Parks Department - or whomever wants to pay me enough money to do it.
We'd run it a bit like the Nature Conservancy, but would look at old, vacated buildings in my, and your, neighborhood. With the help of local historical societies - the organization could research structural histories and backgrounds to determine any momentous chronography inherent in those particular properties. If there's a legend or tale to be told, let 'em stand, work 'em up, and open them as museums to exhibit said structures significance in the biography of it's neighborhood.
If the structure itself has no historical value - then dismantle it, donating any usable pieces and parts to Habitat For Humanity - then develop the area as a green space or public park.
It's what some folks would call a win-win. On one hand, the remaining structures could become a revenue and job creating portal for the community. On the other, the spaces left by the removed buildings could be populated with trees and other fresh flora that would help to conserve the planet.
Now, who gets this ball rolling? Anyone wanna give me their house?
It's the new "Like"
Overheard, verbatim, while passing through the breezeway of a local bastion of higher education (aka my Alma Mater):
"Your timing back there was perfect. Totally perfect. I mean how perfect was that, that it was so perfect?"
Double Face-Palm Moment of the week:
There are more rooms in my house than I regularly use. Thus, the majority of my "stuff" is relegated to the spaces wherein I take routine repose. Doing some light dust and grime reorganization the other day, I made myself crazy running around trying my damnedest to find the cleaning solution.
It wasn't under the sink, definitely not in the office or the bedroom (those places are filthy!). After 10 minutes of fruitless searching, it made an appearance - outside on a step leading to the backyard - where I'd failed to pick it up after wiping down the porch table.
Then, upon using the reclaimed blue liquid of wonder to cleanse the goop from the inside of the kitchen trash can - I crumpled the paper towel I'd been using and tossed it in the direction of where the kitchen trash can would have been - were it not still in my other hand.
The song says "Everybody plays the fool, sometimes*" - yet there are days when I emulate Cal Ripken Jr. in that regard.
*No, I will not do my Aaron Neville impersonation for you (unless, that is, you ask me to.)
Phone-Phollies (aka "Ba-duhm Tchik")
The newest phone books just arrived in doorways and driveways of homes around town. Delivered, of course, at the height of our recent rain season - so I'm lucky to have grabbed a dry one. As stated in previous Dispatches, I like to peruse the corner top indices of each yearly edition to see what interesting word combinations develop from the proximity of certain businesses in alphabetic order (thank you, proto-sinaitics!). Herewith, recent findings:
Abortion - Acupuncturists
(Yeah we start off risky. Too risky. Write your own caption here, folks, I'll handle the rest)
Advertising - Air
("Choose Life, Choose Air, Get Some Before It's Gone!")
Airport - Alcoholism
(Those with a fear of flying often succumb to this combination most aggressively.)
Burglar - Business
(Often called "Politics.")
Chiropractic - Churches
(I hold the copyright on Ergonomic Pews.)
Golf - Hair
(I'm torn between the Nicklaus "Golden Bangs" and the "Fuzzy" Zoeller.)
Junk - Land
(An inexpensive theme park for sure, but whatever you do: AVOID the 'Tunnel Of Love.')
Oxygen - Party
(If you've fallen for the Air Advertising, this is the next step.)
Septic - Shipping
(They did all the contract work for Junk - Land.)
Stair - Storage
("Yeah, just put those stairs in the little closet under the - Hey! Wait a minute...")
Tree - Trophies
(Usually this is referred to as "Paper ')
Wood - Zoos
(I can't see the forest for the Tree-Trophies.)
High Flyers and Low Lifes
There used to be a hawk that lived in my neighborhood, nested atop an old tree three blocks away, in the parking lot of an architecturally rustic church. I'd see him from the front porch of ye olde casa. Every now and then, I'd watch the fellow take flight, swoop down with great speed near the swampish riverbanks of the San Sebastian and emerge - ninja-like*, beak full of flesh - be it snake or fish. He'd return to guard his nest and feed the kids.
I think he also scared off the cranes. Every spring to early summer in the years I've been in this home, they arrive to roost - on the posts of disintegrated, century old docks that emerge during the lowest of tides. In the past few years , they've moved their location a little closer to the house, however - and that kind of creeps me out.
Generally, I'm a fan of birds. But cranes just scare the bejesus out of me sometimes. Have you ever seen a crane stalk, attack, and devour a mindless gecko? I have, and it is brutal. God forbid they should ever form an army set on taking over mankind (Editor's note: Pot Bellied Pigs already have a plan for that).
The Hawk - he kept them away.
I first noticed him during a month when the cranes had indeed visited, getting ever so close to the back gate, which leads direct to the marshy mush. One day I spotted the hawk at his regular perch - he looked in the direction of my house, and then took off. After a moment of free flight, a hard turn and whoosh right past the backyard - moments later he returned to his throne - something long and wriggly in tow.
And after that - the cranes disappeared. They missed the entire spring this year - and I have enjoyed being able to spy on the hawk during both rainstorms and sweltering hot days, vigilantly gazing out from his perch, high aloft- our airborne neighborhood watch.
A couple months ago, however, the Hawk vanished. One day he way floating high above, doing his rounds - and suddenly - gone. I haven't seen him since.
Then, a fortnight back - the cranes returned. They preened on their posts as if they'd never left. I'm hoping the Hawk comes back as well, just in case those cranes get rowdy.
*Are there really bird-ninjas? If so, how would you know it?
The Dispatch From Escalatorville
Z.F. Lively, Proprietor/Puppeteer/Pussyfootin' Proselytiser
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