A cutie (or maybe just to me)

[Shellon]

have no business living in a neighborhood.

Cleaning up. Pruning back. I want . . .

By KYRIE O'CONNOR

Copyright 2005 Houston Chronicle

This is not a DY vs. Texas issue; this is my personality, I guess. Two things:

This morning, I was walking the dog. Now, I did a bad thing. There is an office building (I think it's an office building) near my house. It has appears, for a year and a half, to be virtually empty. Back where I come from, we'd have taken one look at a property like that and said "Mafia," but of course that would not be the case here.

Anyway, my dog took it upon himself to evacuate in the emplty parking lot behind the building, which is wrong, as I know, but it was oh so convenient. A woman in the building (the first person I have ever seen inside this building) tapped madly on a window and pointed to the former contents of the dog. I tried to gesture "let me go home and get a plastic bag" but was unsuccessful, there being no gesture for plastic bag.

Meanwhile, a voice sounded from the balcony of a pricey next-door townhouse. "Clean up your dog's speee-yut, " he said, except he started the word with "sh". He definitely gave the four-letter word two syllables, however. I'm not stupid enough to start a fight. I said, calmly, "OK. Let me get a plastic bag. But please don't use that language with me." He said, "Clean up your dog's speee-yut." I said, "Let me get a plastic bag. I asked you not to use that language." This was going nowhere. I left and got a plastic bag and, yes, cleaned it up. The woman in the not-Mafia building applauded silently from the window, but the speee-yut man did not show himself. Dang.

That would have been enough, but in fact it was the drama's second act.

I live on a corner. A couple of months ago, a woman in big glasses and a red Mini stopped me and told me my vegetation -- the stuff growing at the corner of my tiny property -- is a traffic hazard. You can't see around the corner, she said, although I go around that corner as much as anybody and I thought it was fine. She was pretty rude. So that day I chopped down a bunch of it -- weird fan-like Audrey 2 stuff and vines and grasses they don't make in places with killing frosts. (Stupid me, I thought the fancy landscaping service was supposed to handle this. Oops.)

Two days ago, I got a typed letter from the City of Houston. Seeing a typed letter from the city in your mail is about as good news as getting a voice mail from American Express: It means, as Bob Dylan says, you've got to serve somebody. The city had -- I'm not kidding -- taken a photograph of my little corner to show how unruly my vegetation is. They gave me 10 days. Or else. I'm assuming someone ratted me out.

So this morning I took my cheap yellow Ikea kitchen knife and started hacking away at the remaining fans and vines and grasses until my hands literally bled. A nice neighbor brought over her clippers and chopped the thick stuff. I hacked and sawed at everything, even the stuff that was blooming.

It looks really uneven and ratty now, like a Clay Aiken haircut, but dang, you can see for miles.

This is what I want. I want a little yellow house on a country road. I want to sit on a green plastic chair on the porch in a ratty old button-down shirt and jeans, having used my bras and high heels as kindling. I want a shotgun on the windowsill, a laptop with wireless, an iced tea in a plastic Taco Bell cup and a big red drooling dog at my feet. I want a mean black rooster in the front yard. And I want the neighbors to be scared of me. And my dog. And the rooster.

Don't even think of stopping by. Have a nice day.

[GeorgeStGeorge]

:D-->

George

[Rejoice]

Wow...this must be a city tactic. I just got one for my house that I had to replace the whole sidewalk. Now, keep in mind that I don't **own** the sidewalk...the city does. Got a nasty-gram with the title "NOTICE TO REPAIR SIDEWALK WITHIN 30 DAY!" in 26 font!!

Otherwise they would fix it themselves, place a lien on the property and charge we 10% plus daily interest to pay them back. I called and told them that I was dealing with it, but couldn't gurantee that I could find a cement contractor whose schedule could get it done in 30 days, but it was being handled.

They said, "Ok, we can extend for up to 6 months...we wanted to get your attention and have you call back now." It did work, but it felt like total harrassment.

Sounds rather gestapo-ish to me!

[suz]

Damn Shell,

for a minute there I thought that woman

was you with wanting the house on the

country road!!!

you related??

suz :D-->

[Shellon]

This is actually the only part I can relate to:

quote:

This is what I want. I want a little yellow house on a country road. I want to sit on a green plastic chair on the porch in a ratty old button-down shirt and jeans, having used my bras and high heels as kindling. I want a shotgun on the windowsill, a laptop with wireless, an iced tea in a plastic Taco Bell cup and a big red drooling dog at my feet. I want a mean black rooster in the front yard. And I want the neighbors to be scared of me. And my dog. And the rooster.

Don't even think of stopping by. Have a nice day

I don't have a dog, I would kill any greenery and I'd not have been as pleasant about either of the folks wanting me to take care of any of it.

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