Anyhow, the crazy extends to my husband, as well, I fear. You all know how I have a thing against bunnies and squirrels and dolphins? Well, here we go again. Same play, Act II.
There's this OWL. Thankfully it's not a real owl, 'cause I find those kind of creepy, too. It's a statuary owl. You know, the concrete kind that people stick in the backyard? Nolan had one of these when I moved in after we got married. My first thought back then? What's my big, dumb, blond, 28 year-old husband doing with the statue of an owl in the backyard?
Well, as you can imagine, there's a story.
Nolan bought our house (Our former house) in 1995 for a steal... $48,000. It had had only one owner previous to him, Homer Lee and Bessie McElvaney. (I kid you not. Those were actually their names. We got their mail up until the day we moved- AARP letters and the like.) Anyhow, they passed away and their daughter (who lived 600 miles away) just wanted to sell it. To anyone. So Nolan snapped it up. It needed lots of work, and he had to buy it as is, as in with all Bessie's crap still in it. Heinous curtains, panoramic pictures of Homer Lee's platoon in WWII, a variety of different appliances in various stages of disrepair. He had to pitch a lot of stuff. Heck, I had to pitch a lot of stuff, and I moved in after he'd lived there for two years.
The day after we got married and I moved to Amarillo from DFW (CULTURE shock, anyone?), I began almost immediately putting things that didn't make the cut into a pile. The decopage picture of a bullfighter. The picture of John Wayne in the bedroom (IN THE BEDROOM!). The horrific Garth Brooks color block shirts, western hats and Wranglers, the beer stein on the mantle - all outta there.
Nolan adjusted brilliantly to the Monet and Renoir prints I put up on the walls, the floral arrangemets on the mantle. He even made the switch to Levis without too much fuss, but he wouldn't part with the owl. He WOULD NOT give it up.
And I loathed that owl. It's eyes followed me when I was in the backyard.
So one of my friends stole it. We did a whole ransom thing. Pictures of the owl teetering on the precipice of a high wall, threatening note attached. Nolan didn't think they were funny. He wanted the owl back. Fine. The owl went back to it's home in the flower bed, just outside the back door, where it could pounce on me the minute I walked outside. I stewed for the next 9 years.
Last Friday, when I was at our old house doing a last walk through and cleaning for the new owners (everyone deserves to move into a clean house), I saw the owl. Still in the flowerbed, glowering at me.
I laughed mockingly. I win, you bastard, I thought. I outlasted your concrete ass.
And I was ever so smug about the whole thing. Until yesterday.
When Nolan peers through the blinds to the backyard and asks, "Where's the owl?"
(Then the boys have this exchange)
***
Aaron. What owl?
Ethan. (eating his dinner, casually, as if this question was asked everyday) Frank.
Aaron. Oh. That owl.
***
(What the hell? They'd named it? Anyway... )
I thought, Shoot, darn, heck, son of a gun. (Or similar.) I had thought I was home free.
He made me CALL the new owners and ask if we could come get the abandoned owl this weekend. She said yes so quickly that my disappointment had to have showed in my voice. She sounded relieved. She didn't want that creepy-ass thing in her yard, either, obviously.
So we have to go get 'Frank' tomorrow. *heavy sigh* That thing will haunt me to the end of my days. And he's going to be so SMUG about it, too... His stone beak curved into a smirk. *shivers*
Yeah, I know. Cuh- ray- zee.
The day after we got married and I moved to Amarillo from DFW (CULTURE shock, anyone?), I began almost immediately putting things that didn't make the cut into a pile. The decopage picture of a bullfighter. The picture of John Wayne in the bedroom (IN THE BEDROOM!). The horrific Garth Brooks color block shirts, western hats and Wranglers, the beer stein on the mantle - all outta there.
Nolan adjusted brilliantly to the Monet and Renoir prints I put up on the walls, the floral arrangemets on the mantle. He even made the switch to Levis without too much fuss, but he wouldn't part with the owl. He WOULD NOT give it up.
And I loathed that owl. It's eyes followed me when I was in the backyard.
So one of my friends stole it. We did a whole ransom thing. Pictures of the owl teetering on the precipice of a high wall, threatening note attached. Nolan didn't think they were funny. He wanted the owl back. Fine. The owl went back to it's home in the flower bed, just outside the back door, where it could pounce on me the minute I walked outside. I stewed for the next 9 years.
Last Friday, when I was at our old house doing a last walk through and cleaning for the new owners (everyone deserves to move into a clean house), I saw the owl. Still in the flowerbed, glowering at me.
I laughed mockingly. I win, you bastard, I thought. I outlasted your concrete ass.
And I was ever so smug about the whole thing. Until yesterday.
When Nolan peers through the blinds to the backyard and asks, "Where's the owl?"
(Then the boys have this exchange)
***
Aaron. What owl?
Ethan. (eating his dinner, casually, as if this question was asked everyday) Frank.
Aaron. Oh. That owl.
***
(What the hell? They'd named it? Anyway... )
I thought, Shoot, darn, heck, son of a gun. (Or similar.) I had thought I was home free.
He made me CALL the new owners and ask if we could come get the abandoned owl this weekend. She said yes so quickly that my disappointment had to have showed in my voice. She sounded relieved. She didn't want that creepy-ass thing in her yard, either, obviously.
So we have to go get 'Frank' tomorrow. *heavy sigh* That thing will haunt me to the end of my days. And he's going to be so SMUG about it, too... His stone beak curved into a smirk. *shivers*
Yeah, I know. Cuh- ray- zee.
- Location:breakfast nook
- Mood:
good
Profile
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
persephone33- Extremely Stubborn & Suspicious
- Carrie Leigh
Page Summary
- jandjsalmon : (no subject) [+16]
- mynuet : (no subject) [+1]
- brendanm720 : (no subject) [+4]
- jo_anne_storm : (no subject) [+4]
- seegrim : (no subject) [+3]
- dragonsangel68 : (no subject) [+1]
- sue_bridehead : Bring on the crazy - ! [+6]
- nokomis305 : (no subject) [+1]
- 60sfreak : (no subject) [+1]
- jazsekuh : (no subject) [+0]
- airmidm : (no subject) [+0]
Comments
He named it FRANK?? LOL! I hope he doesn't give you ANY grief for Colin or Aiden because a MAN naming an inanimate object? HA HA HA!
This made my morning! YAY for barmy Nolan! He fits right in with the rest of us. Maybe he should get an LJ too - he'd likely have a blast. ;)
The boys named it Frank... I don't think Nolan's gone THAT far down the crazy train.
He would have a blast with an LJ, probably. But I have to have SOMETHING just for me!
I have a tractor named "Gertrude" and a Lawn Mower named "Patsy" (though, I think a more appropriate name would be "Leper").
Is she called Leper because she is so rusty? We say vehicles that are rusty have leprosy. *nods head sagely*
[gives you the hairy eyeball]
I'm feeling remarkably like Xander Harris right now...
Is she called Leper because she is so rusty? We say vehicles that are rusty have leprosy. *nods head sagely*
Actually, It's a leper because parts keep falling off of it. If you're familiar with Patsy Cline's discography, you'll see why I call it that.
And I think I'm the only one who doesn't get the Xander reference. He's a Buffy character... right?
*grins and smooches you* You know I meant 'one of us' in the best possible way. I'm not surprised you name your inanimate objects because you're cooler than most boys. :)
I Fall to Pieces?
And I think I'm the only one who doesn't get the Xander reference. He's a Buffy character... right?
[gasps in horror]
You don't know BtVS?
[gasps in horror again]
There's a line in one of the earlier seasons about Xander being one of the girls... and he is less than enthused, as he's been trying to figure out how to get into Buffy's Pants.
*grins and smooches you* You know I meant 'one of us' in the best possible way. I'm not surprised you name your inanimate objects because you're cooler than most boys. :)
[raises eyebrow]
Well, I am cooler than most boys, but then again, most men over the age of 25 are cooler than most boys. Boys are twits.
*laughs hysterically*
You don't know BtVS?
I don't either. Never seen an episode. *shrugs*
Ridiculous.
ps- love the wesley icon btw.
I steal only the best icons.
:-D
YOU GUYS DON'T KNOW BUFFY!?!?!
Breathe Elle, breathe.
Brendan, I... I... *speechless*
*blinkblink*
It's, like, sacrilegious or something... *hyperventilates*
Yes, I think it must be something akin to sacrilege.
*giggles*
So true. ;)
As for the owl... Well, at least he lives outside, right?
Then my MIL stole them away to hang in the living room of our cabin. They're pretty cool looking down there!
Heck, yes, he lives outside. He's NOT coming in the house.
It's just a concrete owl. What's the big deal about it?
Though... I like the name.
I fear you don't get my sense of whimsy.
Yes. Just a concrete owl that you happen to DESPISE WITH EVERY FIBER OF YOUR BEING.
I fear you don't get my sense of whimsy.
[shakes head and sighs]
I fear that I don't get YOUR HUSBAND'S sense of whimsy.
Can you tell that I don't own any kitschy pieces of concrete statuary?
*cackles* I possibly shouldn't be having this much fun with the idea... But, gosh... You are such a city girl, aren't you?
Having taken part in the sorting of someone else's lifetime of personal affects, I agree that it can be hell. Some of the things are very interesting, though. I can't imagine the daughter not wanting to have the photos and things sent to her. When we did it for a friend (who is actually still alive, but mouldering away in a nursing home), we separated out anything the family might be interested in, photos, letters, etc. We also had piles of sale-able items and huge piles of trash items. It was a very interesting vacation, sorting through the stuff and finding everything from Disney tickets from the 40s to Chippendales tickets. It makes me give serious thought to parceling out my personal affects when I reach my dotterage so that someone else doesn't have that joy.
That being said... *cackles* FRANK!!!
I had one peck my window at one of those drive-through wildlife centers.
Yes, I'm definitely a city girl. You are who you are, I guess. :)
I guess I should get rid of the Chippendale ticket stubs before I die, then? *snort*
Yes, FRANK. We go and retrieve him tomorrow. :P
...does that mean I have to get rid of my Thunder from Down Under calender??
HEE!
I may have hurt something in my chest laughing. I don't know why this struck me as so funny this morning.
I adore your children, in case I haven't told you that before. :)
Sorry about Frank. I do think it's great they named him.
I went to Nolan and asked why he hadn't told me that his mother had crafted the horrific thing, and he replied, "It never came up?"
Thanks, big guy.
I mean I would have still pitched it, (We actually took it to a white elephant gift exchange one year. One of our friends has it hanging in his garage) but I wouldn't have gloated about it!
Food for thought...
P.S. I told her the donut story, too. Laughed our butts off.
I thought the ransome note was funny, too. Pity Nolan didn't. :)
*loves Carrie*
And boys are more crazy than us. *nods sagely*
I think so, too!
But according to
A related story: for years my mother had this Buddha statue that she thought was awesome. My father HATED it. Epic battles over Buddha would ensue, involving my father hiding the thing (deep in the storage building, in the far corner of the attic, anywhere that he didn't have to see it) and my mom finding it again and putting it in the dining room or living room or somewhere highly visible.
Eventually I think Buddha got taken to, like, someone else's yard sale and sold. It still comes up in conversation.
The only reason I haven't offed the owl is because he would NEVER let it go. I'd be hearing about that owl til the day I die. At least this way I can shut the door and be rid of him. The owl, not my husband. :)
Is it really that odd for men to name inanimate objects? I mean, Sevilla named his iPod Oliver Cromwell, so... :-\
Yeah, but that only works on the stripped-down puritanical models that take over England.
:-D
I suppose I grew accustomed to it because it was no where as creepy as the room of dolls that my grandma keeps. I'm not talking about one or two, I'm talking about an entire room where there is only one small path to walk through.
I have to agree though. My Daddy had one of those inflatable owls that was supposed to scare the squirrels away...that thing scared the hell out of me when I was younger.