I was so glad to spot this sign in a local consignment shop, yesterday. That sign swept all my fears right out the door as it said, "Welcome, crazy lady Mary! Sit a spell and have a glass of sweat tea."
There have been a few instances (okay...more than a few), that a North Carolinian could have sized me up and declared me to be a little lop-sided in the belfry. Oklahomans already knew this, since I had been around for, let's see...39 plus years, and they had grown to love me. The understanding ones (those with similar issues), anyway.
I'll just throw a couple of questionable instances out here, and you can let me know if I'm Southerner enough to parade my crazy. And while you read, don't forget the declaration of the aforementioned sign...
Instance #1. It was somewhere around July 9th, or 10th, of this year. My husband had made a trip back West, leaving me to fend for myself. That's not always a good thing. I take things to bed with me. For protection. Like my very sharp letter opener.
On this particular evening, my psyche had already been put on high alert from an event that took place moments after going to bed. Something (or someone), pounded the outside of the house just about 3 feet from where my bed was. It wasn't just a little scrape, or thump. We're talking, "let's knock a hole in this wall", thump. As my eyes stretched wide with terror, I stealthily moved quietly out of bed, grabbed my dagger and iPhone light, ready to make anyone that might be trying to enter crazy Mary's house wish they had not. And of course, I found no one around. Completely invisible to me, maybe they had decided to hide in the dark recesses beneath the screened in porch...also a short distance away from my bedroom. Geez, who beats on the side of ANYONE's house after 11pm? Someone with a death wish, evidently.
I finally told myself it must have been a blind deer trying to find new growth from any of the bushes they missed the previous night, thinking my bedroom wall was foliage. Hey. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do to assure yourself you will be alive come morning. We do have motion sensor lights on the outside of our house (somewhat comforting), and one of them was glaring into the night's darkness. Just as I suspected they would. I knew by that, SOMETHING triggered it!!! I decided to leave those lights on, and return to bed.
Once there, I found that sleep wasn't easy to find, either. When at last I dozed off, a gentle "beep" went off in the hallway that is adjacent to our bedroom. What???!!! Okay, as my heart muscle began placing my chest in a choke hold, I knew that someone who had been dishonorably discharged from the military was now in my house, and had some sort of explosive that was about to go off. Thus the beeping noise. I really didn't know what to do. I waited (without breathing). 5-10 seconds later, there was another soft "beep". So, what is this guy doing? Just STANDING in my hall???
I knew I had to face the music. With my trusty letter opener gripped tightly in my right fist, again, I was ready to leave my mark on whoever had been bold enough to cross my threshold. The hall was empty. Surprise, surprise. "beep-beep-beep". WHERE is that coming from?! Then all went silent. At that moment, I realized it was the carbon monoxide detector. What should I do? Am I being gassed as I stare at it? Will I be able to get out in time since it is an odorless gas, I really can't tell how long I might have. Wait! This is too easy for Dennis. His wishes could not be allowed to come true. I should call the FIRE DEPARTMENT! They will rescue me! They're up all night anyway, and it's only 1 am. Okay, Google, find the number for me.
The fire chief told me in his very professional voice, to "leave the premises now." Now??? Ummm...I'm not clothed properly. So, being the bright young lady that I am, I said, "Do I have time to put some clothes on?" Please. Do not ask what was going on in my crazy head. I HAVE NO IDEA!!! I can only imagine the laughter, the jokes, the innuendoes, happening after I closed that conversation out.
A huge fire truck arrived within a few minutes. They had even prepared a second one that had began it's journey to Warren Avenue, as well. Three firemen got out of the first unit and made their way to our house, preparing for the worst, I'm sure. I was just leaving the house, when they pulled up. Yes, it took me awhile to find proper clothing in the middle of the chaotic stressors of the night hours. Good thing I was still in the house. Someone had to unlock the door for them, since I missed that memo. I think it quite possible, as I now reflect on this event, that my brain took a vacation without inviting my body. An empty shell remained to figure out something an alone person should never have to.
I'm going to cut this story short, even though there is a lot more to share about it. The beeping was not coming from a carbon monoxide detector. We don't have one, the fire chief tells me. It was the fire alarm. The fire alarm that was 18 years old and the battery was going belly up, but wanted to alert me first. Whew. I may not die after all. At least not from being gassed. Embarrassment, maybe. But not from carbon monoxide poisoning. Not tonight...
Instance #2. See the picture to the right? What do you think THAT is? If you guessed a bone, you would be correct! Hanging on my backyard swing. Yep. This happened just a couple of evenings ago. It was a beautiful evening, with a cool breeze blowing, so I decided to sit a spell (minus the sweet tea), out on the backyard swing. I always look the swing over, before sitting down. Simply because it's back is up against a wooded area and I don't relish the idea of a snake just dropping down for a visit. I don't like the shape of their tongues. It makes conversation double sided, if you know what I mean...
When I spotted this bone, I immediately took a picture and sent it via text message to my husband. My, in the house, relaxing, husband. He had mowed the yard the evening before, so I wondered what he was thinking by placing a bone on my swing. He claims he didn't do it. Right. I figured he was trying (again) to make me think I was going mental. But when he came out to take a look, I knew he was telling me the truth. He didn't do it. Okay. Where did it come from? He said it "probably dropped out of the tree." What??? Look how big that thing is! It dropped out of a tree. Yeah. I'd hate to come face to face with whatever drug that thing up the tree. Ya know, the tree that is in my backyard. Yeah, THAT tree!
So, who put the bone on my swing? And why were they in my back yard? And why did they choose to hang it from my swing? Why not throw it into the wooded area? And, why were they in MY back yard??? Had they been swinging? WHY were they in my back yard?!
As the evening drew to a close, I couldn't get this partial, dehydrated, strangely odd bone, out of my head. I googled the human humerus. Bingo! We had part of a skeleton's arm hanging from our swing. And from the length of it, it appeared to be the bone from a small child. Maybe an 8-10 year old. My next move was to text my reality-check daughter. She never pulls any punches, just tells it like it is. And it's mostly, "Mom. You're over-thinking this," daughter. "Maybe you should call the police and let them decide," she surprisingly said. Even she agreed the two looked similar. Similar enough to have it checked out.
Now my mind began forming all kinds of scenarios. 'Cause, like I said. This girl never sugar coats anything. Straight up truth. AND, I had always thought the dip in our backyard was because people were buried there. Granted, my mind may be a little over-active at times. A client suggested the dip in our yard was most likely a previous garden spot. Whatever... ;-)
So....the nice policeman arrives, and I show him my pictures before going out to where my husband had thrown the bone. This was like at 9:30 pm, and it was very dark out. That's significant. I'm not sure why, it just is. Plus, I was pretty sure my name had popped up in the system before the guy came out. Remember the fire alarm thingy? I'm probably marked by the City of Cary as being an unbalanced person, so there's that.
The evening came, and went, just as fast as that bone flew through the air on it's way to another adventure. The officer declared it to be an old animal bone. Good enough. But still...HOW did it get on my swing, and WHY was it there? According to the nice man, "a kid probably found it, and while walking through your private yard to get to his house, across the street and a half mile behind your house, through brush that needed a machete blade placed against it in order to pass through, probably just decided that was a good place to hang it. You know, up high, instead of conveniently placing it on the lower support bar. Cause kids are like that. They take the hard way, instead of the easy." Ummmmm...right! *eye roll
Now, it's your turn. Do I fit into the North Carolinian atmosphere? And would you offer me a sweet tea if I came to sit a spell?
I am optimistically awaiting your response...here, in Mary's World.
