"Maybe it won't be a big deal." Tara nibbles her bottom lip as she folds and unfolds the ticket in her hand.
"It will be fine. They'll understand," I say. She looks at me for a moment, hope filling her brown eyes. I've failed to convince her, though. She flops onto her back and grabs Yertle, the stuffed turtle I use as a pillow.
"My parents are going to flip. Straight up kill me." She covers her face so it looks like Yertle is talking as she continues, "This is all your fault."
"What!?"
She pulls Yertle from her face and throws him at me. "You and your stupid obsession. I wanted to leave. You were the one who couldn't drag yourself away from Sarah."
My heart falters as she drags the syllables of Sarah's name out into a school-yard taunt. Was it that obvious?
"Geez, Jess," Tara went on, oblivious to the thudding in my ears, "I know you want to get on the team, but stalking the team captain isn't the way to do it."
She doesn't know. "I'm not stalking her. I'm just making friends. My dad says things like this are all about who you know." I set Yertle at the foot of the bed as my heartbeat returns to normal. "If Sarah has a positive social association with me, she'll be more likely to look favorably on my tryouts."
Tara sits up. "That sounds just like your dad." She strokes her chin and looks dramatically toward the ceiling. She lowers the timber of her voice in an imitation of my dad, "Blah, blah ... neural networking ... blah, blah, blah ... favorable outcome ... blah, blah ... social-emotional ..."
Her eyes go big and her voice falters as my dad appears in the doorway. "Hi, girls. How was your day?"
"Fine, Dad."
"Fine, Mr. Skinner," Tara mumbles.
"Good. Glad to hear it. Are you staying for dinner, Tara?"
"If it's okay with you." She still hasn't looked up at him.
"We'd love to have the company," Dad says. He looks at me. "Set the table in half an hour, please?"
"Sure."
"Okay, well, I'll let you two get back to whatever you were doing." He turns and heads down the hall. As he walks he adds, "See you in 30. Blah, blah, blah."
Tara's eyes go wide again. She stares at me, frozen, for a beat before we both collapse on the bed, giggling.
Once we can breathe again, Tara wipes her eyes and says, "Your dad is the coolest."
"Whatever."
"No, really. I bet your dad wouldn't freak out over a stupid speeding ticket."
"Probably not." There are plenty of other things he would freak out about, though.
Tara resumes fiddling with the ticket she'd gotten the night before.
*****
inspired by Daily Post prompt for 8/10/16: Maybe.
Showing posts with label Daily Post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daily Post. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Unstoppable
Preface: One of my favorite things to do is to get a prompt of some kind and see where it takes me. I get an email from Daily Post every morning. On July 28, the prompt was "Unstoppable". This is what immediately came to mind...
As I run through my morning media checks, I sip my tea and watch my little corner of the world. The dining room window overlooks a narrow section of the Mississippi River as it meanders through central Minnesota. "My river" attracts lots of wildlife, and I have strategically placed feeders around the yard to assist "my birds" as they raise their young and prepare for the inevitable winter. My favorite feathered visitors this year are a trio of juvenile blue jays (collectively known as "the Jays", an obscure reference to America's Next Top Model) and a trio of juvenile pileated woodpeckers (affectionately dubbed "Larry, Moe and Curly").
When we bought the house, it came with a large, covered bird feeder, complete with a squirrel-blocking tube around the pole. This great feeder, backdropped by the river and framed by white pine and oak branches, is a favorite to all kinds of birds. From the very beginning, it was a challenge to keep the feeder full of sunflower seeds in the face of such popularity. Lately, however, the task has reached Sisyphean proportions.
There are two things you should know about my family before I continue with this story.
The first thing is that my husband was born, raised and lived solely (until 2 years ago) in southern California, where squirrels are not common, especially not the big, bushy-tailed kind that fill the treetops in Minnesota. Despite my best efforts, he refuses to recognize them as the noisy tree-rats they are. He thinks they're "cute".
The second thing is that we have two good-sized dogs. (In California, land of the yappy lapdog, I used to describe them as "big dogs". Here, they are dwarfed by the hunting, herding and sled-pulling breeds preferred by Minnesotans.) They are good dogs, sweet and sociable with people, but I've been unable to break them of two bad habits: they chase small animals (like our elderly cat) and they run off whenever they get a chance. The first bad habit means they are not allowed in the house. The second means we had to fence a large portion of our yard, including the section that runs parallel to the river.
The new fence runs directly under the sunflower feeder. The squirrels think this is fantastic as it allows them to circumvent the anti-squirrel tube. Apparently squirrels are a gossipy bunch, because in the past month the squirrel population has exploded. Great big, pompous gray squirrels. Twitchy little red squirrels. Ninja-like black squirrels. I can't look out a window without seeing at least one. The dogs don't even chase them anymore; there are so many I think they've decided our yard is a squirrel sanctuary.
My husband likes this very much. He takes pictures and videos of them hanging upside down on the bird feeders and daydreams about feeding them peanuts from his hand.
I sneak up on them, getting as close as I can before clapping my hands and barking loudly (I'm trying to model the appropriate behavior for my dogs who are understandably confused). I encourage the bigger birds to "Show them who's boss!" and "Take back the feeder!", but they have yet to take my advice. They just collect in the trees around the squirrel infested feeder and sulk. When the squirrels have left, the pileated woodpeckers land on the roof of the empty feeder and drum their displeasure.
So, I pour more seeds into the feeder and hope the birds get their fill before the squirrels come back. I've also been teaching my pup, Wiggles, the difference between naughty cat chasing and good girl squirrel chasing. The squirrels may be unstoppable, but so are Wiggles and I.
***
As I run through my morning media checks, I sip my tea and watch my little corner of the world. The dining room window overlooks a narrow section of the Mississippi River as it meanders through central Minnesota. "My river" attracts lots of wildlife, and I have strategically placed feeders around the yard to assist "my birds" as they raise their young and prepare for the inevitable winter. My favorite feathered visitors this year are a trio of juvenile blue jays (collectively known as "the Jays", an obscure reference to America's Next Top Model) and a trio of juvenile pileated woodpeckers (affectionately dubbed "Larry, Moe and Curly").When we bought the house, it came with a large, covered bird feeder, complete with a squirrel-blocking tube around the pole. This great feeder, backdropped by the river and framed by white pine and oak branches, is a favorite to all kinds of birds. From the very beginning, it was a challenge to keep the feeder full of sunflower seeds in the face of such popularity. Lately, however, the task has reached Sisyphean proportions.
There are two things you should know about my family before I continue with this story.
The first thing is that my husband was born, raised and lived solely (until 2 years ago) in southern California, where squirrels are not common, especially not the big, bushy-tailed kind that fill the treetops in Minnesota. Despite my best efforts, he refuses to recognize them as the noisy tree-rats they are. He thinks they're "cute".
The second thing is that we have two good-sized dogs. (In California, land of the yappy lapdog, I used to describe them as "big dogs". Here, they are dwarfed by the hunting, herding and sled-pulling breeds preferred by Minnesotans.) They are good dogs, sweet and sociable with people, but I've been unable to break them of two bad habits: they chase small animals (like our elderly cat) and they run off whenever they get a chance. The first bad habit means they are not allowed in the house. The second means we had to fence a large portion of our yard, including the section that runs parallel to the river.The new fence runs directly under the sunflower feeder. The squirrels think this is fantastic as it allows them to circumvent the anti-squirrel tube. Apparently squirrels are a gossipy bunch, because in the past month the squirrel population has exploded. Great big, pompous gray squirrels. Twitchy little red squirrels. Ninja-like black squirrels. I can't look out a window without seeing at least one. The dogs don't even chase them anymore; there are so many I think they've decided our yard is a squirrel sanctuary.
I sneak up on them, getting as close as I can before clapping my hands and barking loudly (I'm trying to model the appropriate behavior for my dogs who are understandably confused). I encourage the bigger birds to "Show them who's boss!" and "Take back the feeder!", but they have yet to take my advice. They just collect in the trees around the squirrel infested feeder and sulk. When the squirrels have left, the pileated woodpeckers land on the roof of the empty feeder and drum their displeasure.
So, I pour more seeds into the feeder and hope the birds get their fill before the squirrels come back. I've also been teaching my pup, Wiggles, the difference between naughty cat chasing and good girl squirrel chasing. The squirrels may be unstoppable, but so are Wiggles and I.
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