Sonnystone Acres

it’s hard to remember just how bad this place looked when we moved in…..this is from 6/15/03…compare and contrast with below.

plus a view from the new porch to the late-summer garden.

if you read rightmoon you remember her story of the phish concert: people who (illegally) abandoned their cars and walked twenty miles to a sold-out concert were sold tickets for their effort. that was vermont. here in indiana we had an outdoor concert last saturday. it was an all-day affair that was also a fundraiser for the susan komen foundation. travis tritt was the headliner and scheduled to sing about 9pm. it was such a beautiful night that husband and i decided to put the top down on the mustang and head over to the amphitheatre after working all day on the porch. it was about 9pm when we cruised by and the place looked about 3/4 empty. there was a parking space right next to the arena and we could hear travis singing. at the entrance were various security personnel who informed us that the ticketsellers had closed up shop a while back and refused us entrance, even for a donation!!! sadly, we headed back to the car, drove down to rally’s for burgers, by the liquor store for beers, back to our front-seat parking place. Starry night, top down in the mustang, we listened to travis sing all my particular favorites, i sang along (wha-ooo), and we had a great time. all that was missing was to actually see him, and frankly, mr. tritt ain’t that pretty, just 10ft tall and bulletproof. what a way to run a fundraiser, huh?

I went undercover early today, staking out the deli where the sister lost her wallet. Dressed in my black suit, hat, shoes, and overcoat I stationed myself carefully across the street, reading a newspaper under an umbrella, smoking camel non-filters. I had deliberately not bathed and had affected a french accent. 5-10 minutes of surveillance is strenuous work and soon I was hungry. Though I had a thermos of coffee, I really needed a bagel. Entering the deli, I proceeded to order……Aha! The person taking my order was a skinny, middle-aged, black man (no relation)! In excitement I lapsed into my australian, “G’day, mate, got a bagel?” The suspect looked at me dimly and said, ” how you gonna eat a bagel? you a cat.” I hate this man. He will be dealt with in a higher court. I left without a scene–or a bagel. I reported back to the sister that the scoundrel who had stolen her billfold was, indeed, the very man who had delayed her chili and refused my bagel. She was happy with my work, but the perp’s unkind words had cut me like a knife. On the way back to Sonnystone, I stopped in a liquor store to buy a pint of jack daniels, my preferred cheer-up tonic. As I checked out, the cashier eyed me suspiciously, though I hardly appear to be younger than 21. “Some guy that looks just like you was in here trying to pass off some stolen checks,” she said sharply. “Parlez vous mademoiselle oui? You meestake me for another gentleman, no?” She looked at me dimly, “You better watch out, you look just like him.” Liar! Besides, I doubt he has a french accent.

Sorry for the (boring) absence, but rest assured, I’ve been busy. It seems thebug has a sister who has called upon me recently. I keep my private investigator license current and she knew I would show the utmost of discretion. The sister is a professional person who stopped for lunch between 2-3pm on the day in question. She walked to a nearby deli for chili, but was told that it would be 3-5 minutes to serve her because the chili was frozen. As she relates, 5 minutes sounded like far too long to wait to eat, so she ordered up a little something else. She went to her meeting, leaving her purse in her unlocked office. When she returned, her billfold was missing. That’s when she called me. I know the sister pretty well, actually, since she and her family have often brought me meals when the caretakers are gone. I appreciate her gusto for food, so have enjoyed her little visits; however, she nearly always leaves something behind, or we look everywhere for her keys. Therefore, it was my feeling that she had not been robbed, but had left her billfold at the deli. There are three things that can happen when you leave your billfold in a deli: 1. someone will pick it up and give it back to you. 2. someone will pick it up, take the cash, throw it in the trash/send it back to you. 3. someone picks it up, takes the cash, and is stupid enough to think they can use your credit cards, etc. We decided to hope for the best (no fee for consultation). The next evening she received a phone call from one of our local package liquor establishments and was informed that a man had been trying to use her checks and i.d. to purchase some beverages. The perpetrator was a skinny, middle-aged black man (no relation) whose story was woefully weak: his wife was in the car, but he had forgotten his i.d. so brought hers……..it’s no leap to believe that at least 1/3 of our population is stupid. I advised her to call the police, using my name to cut through any red tape (small fee for this service). I have agreed to pursue The Case of The Deli Culprit, identify the suspect and take him into custody without undue strain on the sister. (large fee, but 99.9% guaranteed) Stay Tuned.

today was senior citizens day at the horse track; humidity probably kept a lot of the oldsters away—it was sweaty. so my cuz laner and i set up some chairs in the shade and figured out stragedy. we started out safe in the first race–i won 60 cents, she won 40 cents. the next two races we were betrayed by horses named after cats and bachman-turner-overdrive songs. laner got lucky (bitch) and hit a long shot in the 4th, won $8. damn her. i was still 1 for 4 and sour. in the fifth, i won $4.40; fast train wasn’t so fast in the sixth, but ruben john came in for $5 in the seventh, and big numbers raked in $5 in the eighth.. wahoo! add in 2 beers, 1 pulled pork bbq sandwich and you have a winning day. we didn’t get to bet mr. cat in the 9th, but his jockey, s.e. gato, was looking a little frazzled when i arrived back at sonnystone.

the fruit of two better boys, three romas, two cherrys and daily picking….in addition to the above, i have made a gallon of salads, several plates of sliced/salteds and still have the same amount still on the vine in the garden! chopping tomatoes is much like chopping broccoli, but not at all like chopping broccolie. wish i could share my Homegrown Sonnystone with all of you.

today is the 24th anniversary of the day husband and i plighted our troth, vowed our nuptials, made the better/worse agreement. i could write about that day and who those people were that were having a wedding: two comparative strangers unsure of the other, but willing to give it a “try”. and so we walked off, already blessed with a daughter, to make a real family. we added a son, became sunday school teacher and boy scout master, went together to countless school programs, sports games, graduations,weddings and funerals. with few exceptions our days have started and ended with each other. we’re almost opposites temperamentally and there have been days, even seasons, where i wondered if we were going to survive. but here we are, working together, enjoying what we’ve worked for, looking forward to more of the drama, comedy, musical, action-adventure that goes with marriage and family here at Sonnystone.

siding, construction, hammers pounding, men’s voices, scraps of siding strewn out in the yard, flowers tramped on, ladders against upstairs windows, faces just outside of downstairs windows, more hammers pounding….ugh…i knew this would be an ordeal, but…ugh.. of course, husband is in his element and has decided at the last minute to construct a back porch. i talked him out of it, then he talked me back into it (like he was ever not going to) and i have given my approval of the corrugated pvc..ugh… inside the house is covered with dust, tracked with dirt…in short, i’m trying to live outside my body whenever i’m home. Son E. has complained frequently; i’m reassuring him: only 5 more days…aargh.

sometime wednesday two large sets of tinkertoys were left on the front porch here at sonnystone. i confess that i’m not sure who left them, but remember vaguely having a conversation with someone regarding old toys, tinkertoys, etc. i think it may be dave & sylvia, but wonder if anyone out there has another clue? it all reminds me of that great song: send me tinker-toys every morning; send me tink(er)toys by the u.s. mail; say it with tinkertoys at my wedding, and i won’t forget to put legos on your grave……(apologies to keith)