Greetings, Friends,

It is 11:30 am and I am still in my nightie.

All through the pandemic I made it a point to get dressed before I came downstairs.

But this story has to be told, Now. Before I forget it.

So, I’m looking out my kitchen window this morning, you know, the one above the sink? Normal scene. Looking at my neighbor’s house. Snow on the ground. Snow on the roof. Hook descending on a cable.

Wait, WHAT?????

A large hook descending on a cable.

I bend down so I can look up to see where the cable was coming from.  I was really expecting a helicopter here, because. I mean, why not go for the big story??

It wasn’t a helicopter, so I crossed off the intrigue of perhaps foreign spies or the FBI  picking up contraband.

What I did see at the end of that cable was a giant crane.

Okay, so now the story has changed to a neighborhood retrieval of  an immobilized car that’s full of gold too heavy for a regular tow truck.

By now I have alerted the hubster AND the crane has started to move closer to the house and the cable is once again descending.

Maybe it’s my neighbor!!!!  Right near my backyard!!!

“I can’t see the hook.”  The hubster is now out on the back porch.

“It’s going up again!” I alert him.

“And now the crane is swinging around 180 degrees!”

It is now towering over the end of the cul-de-sac behind us and the beginning of the next cul-de-sac.

“Whoa. That’s the size of crane  they use downtown to pick up  an AC unit off a roof. But why would they use that here?”

Meanwhile the crane cable has lowered the hook as we’re trying to triangulate exactly which house the hook is nearing.

I am suggesting to the hubster that he jump in the car and go investigate. Now that it’s not in the cul-de-sac just behind us, he could drive to the park to investigate.

Meanwhile, the hubster is exclaiming, ” Do you know how much money it costs to use a crane like that?”

I repeat,” I think you should drive over there to investigate!”

I’m thinking that it looks like a dinosaur has invaded the neighborhood.

I return to my spot doing the kitchen clean up at the sink and being careful not to get wet while bending into the sink to see where the cable and hook are going.

 

Then, as I return to standing upright to use the sprayer(my momma didn’t raise no dummies), the hubster shouts, “There’s a guy on the hook!!”

I run to the porch—keep in mind, nightie and bare feet— in time to see the guy clutching the cable, being winched up, swinging a little, with a clunky object swinging   even more from a rope below his feet.

“Ahhh,” says the hubster. “That’s a chain saw.  He’s going to trim a tree. DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE IT WOULD BE TO RENT A CRANE TO DO THIS????”

So that’s where we are. There’s some very expensive tree trimming going on here in my neighborhood. They’re still there.  Well, at least the crane is still in place.

I do wonder where the branch is that is in need of trimming. I suggest that it is a) huge and b) perched precariously across someone’s roof, hence the need for more than a guy with a chain saw.

How exciting, though, to be lowered onto a roof from a crane this size! And then to have to secure the sawed off branch so it doesn’t swing into the house or houses around it.

Not that I’d want to do that.

No, I’d like to watch, but would have no interest in actually performing that task.

It would be the hubster’s cup of tea, though. wouldn’t it?

The height of dangerousness (dangerosity) that I perform is sewing a dark binding onto a dark flannel quilt with black thread.

It is my high wire act. I go so slowly, so as to not screw up. Well, that’s most of my life now anyway, especially when walking outside in the winter. Can I get an amen?

I go slowly when sewing this binding because if I go faster, I either pull the thread out of the needle because it sticks to my glove, or I snip the binding thread while trimming other nearby threads. I am partnering with the hare on this race.

Oh, and speaking of mistakes, I accidently doubled the amount of butter in the bundt cake I made the other day. The batter did seem  a little funny looking and then the top of the cake didn’t release from the cake pan. I just thought, dang, I thought I floured it enough. But the hubster figured it out.

And bless his heart, he’s still eating it!

To reward his loyalty, I will make a bourbon/apple cider bundt  the next time I bake. That should help.

Speaking of helping, I applied a particularly delicious eye shadow on New Year’s Day. It was called, “Birthday Suit.”

Because I could.

The hubster has just declared that it looks like they’re putting the crane away. “How can  you tell?” “Well the boom is straight up and down and has collapsed.”

There are a million stories in the city. This was just one.

Have a lovely Monday. Paula Poundstone has posted that we told Betty White many times that we loved her. She suggests that we initiate the Betty White Challenge and tell those we love that we love them. I think it’s a good idea.

Love,

Janet