I put the pro in procrastinate today. It was a perfect writing day for me, because Old What’s Her Face had to work. I spent my time on reading blogs, social media, chatting with friends. Eventually, I decided to work on something.
I got to the writing cabin late, with four projects looming. I need to make edits to Lanternfish, send out the next section to my critique group, brush up my short story, and possibly add new words to Mrs. Molony.
Head down, I hacked away at the chapter I needed to edit, but something didn’t feel right. I wandered through the cabin. “Lisa. Lisa?”
“Back here.” I found her working on the flowerbeds outside.
“We need to go to town. I have to tip over a statue.”
“What on Earth for?”
“It’s a living in the moment thing. This is all over the news and social media. I want to be able to tell my grandkids that I participated. Maybe some of this can weave its way into one of my stories.”
“You flew out here. It’s several hours back by road.”
“Then we’d better get started.”
“You can ride in my sidecar, or we have the old Land Rover from our storyboarding safaris.”
“Let’s take the Land Rover.”
It took her an hour to get ready and fuel up the car. Several decent mud holes, a couple of snowdrifts, and we finally reached Boise.
“This is your shindig. Where to?” Lisa rolled down her window.
“There’s a perfectly good statue of Lincoln in the park. We can start there.”
Lisa’s eyes flickered as her internal works paired with the cellular network. “That’s bronze. You won’t even be able to budge it.”
“You have that industrial robot strength. I’m sure together we can get Abe on his head somehow.”
“Oh, no. This is your deal. I’ll drive you, because you pay the bills. Any vandalism is all on you.”
“Party pooper.”
She signaled then pulled in by Zoo Boise. I hit the ground running as soon as she found a parking spot. I grunted while trying to shove the bronze onto the grass. Finally, I crawled up on his pedestal and tried again. Abe didn’t budge.
“Well?” she asked.
I strained with all my might, then clutched my side. “I think I pulled something.”
“Can we go now?”
“I’m not giving up.” I looked both ways, then jogged across the street to the community rose garden where I kicked over their garden gnome. I dusted off my hands while strutting back to the car. “How about that?”
“Fabulous. I need to swing by the nursery on the way back. We need some plant food.”
She drove down State Street then parked at the nursery. “Coming in?”
I stared at the flock of plastic flamingoes in their lawn. “No. I’m good right here.”
Lisa walked inside and I waited until she was out of sight. This was my moment. I attacked the flamingoes with fury. I managed to kick six of them over when the management came running.
Not wanting to deal with The Man, I dove in the Land Rover, then sped away.
I went around the block, then called Lisa’s internal cellular number. She didn’t answer. Finally, I dropped the Rover into gear and headed home. Lisa is pretty resourceful, and I’m sure she’ll find her way back.
I used to hate pink yard flamingos, so I understand your ire with them. But now, my niece loves them and calls them Mingos and it’s so cute, I find it hard to detest them like I used to.
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You should give her some for her yard.
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Her grandparents did. They have sequins on them. I suspect her mom and dad (and the rest of the neighborhood) aren’t as happy as she is.
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Too funny.
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Garden gnomes and lawn flamingos. You’ve done humanity a great service.
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And participated in the events of 2020.
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Still more to come. I’m sure of it.
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I think you ought to leave the statue tipping to the idiots.
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I’m too old for this stuff.
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Yup. Here have a drink and let some young idiot do the work.
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Having a new oatmeal stout right now.
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That sounds delicious.
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It is. If you were here, I’d share it with you.
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I have some Guinness Foreign Extra Stout coming. Stuff is good but comes in an 11oz bottle (Irish cheaters)
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You just need more bottles of it.
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True.
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Lincoln? Really?
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He’s what we have.
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Good for you on the garden gnome. I hate gnomes, so feel free to topple them anytime.
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I’m not a fan either.
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My sister has always been a fan of pink flamingos, although she only has 1 or 2 in her flowerbeds, I kind of like a gnome tucked in a wooded setting, although I have neither flamingos or gnomes. Now if you wanted to tip my few squatty frogs we would have a problem.
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Didn’t find any of those. The frogs sound kind of whimsical.
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I always thought you were a rebel, but I suspected Lisa would cheer you on:) I sort of think Lincoln is one of the heroes, though. I’m shocked. Glad you’ve settled down with a stout.
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There have been a lot of people defacing statuary without any regard to who they are. I’ve seen some amazing things online this week. We live in Idaho. Lincoln is about all we have access to.
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That’s showing ’em, Craig! Kick over those gnomes and flamingos! 🙂 Funny little side story and dialog. I do hope Lisa made it home okay.
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She got some nice photos out of the deal.
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Too funny, you rebel you! 😂. Hope Lisa makes it home okay without any of those pesky gnomes following her back to you. Enjoy your stout! 😊
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No gnomes for me, thanks. She’ll hitch a ride with some bikers or something.
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“That statue was not knocked down. It tripped and fell into the river.”
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And the bay, and the highway, and off the roof… It’s terrible what’s happening out there right now.
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