Monthly Archives: July 2008
The wife and I returned from our anniversary dinner Saturday to our darkened home, as I forgot to turn off the front porch light. I had posted a message on freecycle about a small maple tree we wanted to donate.
As I pulled into our driveway, I noticed a pile of roots on the front yard.
“Hey, what’s that? Did someone come get the tree?”
“Looks like it, there’s a big pile of HEY! WHERE’S MY YARD!??!”
While we were having dessert in the garden of a bistro, under the shade of a pear tree, our gardener friend from church, Luis, was taking a backhoe to my front yard. He’s replacing the old, galvanized-pipe sprinkler system, after I ripped my heel on a sprinkler head that stuck out of the ground a few inches. Amelia shredded one of her toes on the same sprinkler head. We’ve named it “The Widowmaker”.
For the record, Amelia asked me to put on my shoes not 30 minutes before I tripped on my sandals and cut my heel. At least it didn’t happen on our anniversary weekend.
Hurt me, hurt my woman, you leave me no choice but to call in an air strike. At least that’s what it looked like afterward. If you look closely, you can see the twisted galvanized pipe.
After seeing the wreckage on his iPhone, my brother commented “Ay ! War torn Yugoslavia, reporting from the front lines.”
While my wife and I were meandering to Calaveras County to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary, we stopped in our least favorite coffee retailer to purchase something cool and caffeinated. On our way, we spotted this little guy, who seems to be all too happy to be living under the giant, green glow of You Know Who:
I wonder if he gets free coffee and pastries as part of his lease agreement?
The wife and left the maddening heat of the city and headed for Calaveras County (yes, of the Celebrated Jumping Frog variety), where my dear had spied out a nice place for us to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary. The establishment had a quaint garden in the front, where we retired when it was tolerable to be outside. The Central Valley heat has been relentless this week.
In five years we have lived in four different places, have been members of three different churches, have had three visits to the emergency room (all my doing), one appendectomy followed by an extended hospital stay, worked at six different places (four for me, two for the wife), endured one blown clutch, one blown transmission, sold one car and purchased another, purchased a home and slew of other statistics I can’t remember.
We made it. We’re making it. We will make it. Of all my accomplishments, I am probably most proud of finding my wife on the Internet, chatting her up, getting a first date, a second, a third and eventually a “yes” when I asked her to marry me.
I love you, dear. Here’s to five more.
The latest utterances from The Prophet of El Dorado Street. I’ll try to cruise by today to see if he’s created new signs. I’m still trying to figure out when he puts out new signs. It appears to be more often than weekly but beyond that, I’m not sure. Prophets are like that, I suppose.
Phil Urie is a veteran prosecutor for the San Joaquin County District Attorneys Office, who is running for Judge.