Yelling at the Mexican's in My Tree!

What a Monday morning! Last night I didn't sleep well. My husband set his alarm and it went off at 2:30am. He wears ear plugs. (He says this is so he can sleep above my snoring. I say it's so he can't hear himself snoring.) I finally had to shake him to wake-up and turn the blazing-loud alarm-thing off.  He uses his old phone as a clock so he can see the time in the night, but I have never figured out how to turn the alarm off. Especially when I am fumbling around in the dark!

He finally got up and turned it off, he started to get ready for work, until I pointed out it was only 2:30am. He of course went right back to sleep. He can sleep at the drop of a hat. I, on the other hand have a hard time getting to sleep and staying asleep. If I am rudely awakened, I'm doomed!

The alarm went off again at 4:10am (his usual time to get up and do all the junk he does before he leaves at 5:30. For the life of me, since he does not put on makeup or do much of anything to his non-hair-bald-shaved head, I can't figure out what the heck takes him so long...but I digress.)  As he said prayers and left the room I mentioned I never got back to sleep after 2:30am.He said...too bad! and went on his merry way.

I decided to try and get at least another hour of sleep so began to read a very nice vampire story. I finally drifted off at a little before 8am, only to be awakened at 8:15 by a very loud noise coming through the windows. At first my groggy brain thought "Okay, it's the garbage guys who come on Mondays." But no, the noise continued and low and behold...I looked out the window to see at least three Hispanics up in my beautiful tree tied-there with ropes and using chain saws. They were in the process of cutting down the tree in the front yard!

Several times previously I have fended off these city know-nothing fellows who have tried to assault our beautiful tree. They keep telling me it is a city tree. I beg to differ because it is over 12' from the sidewalk, which seems to be their criteria.

Once when we were gone we returned to find the tree cut back. (Which by the way shades our front window and keeps the electric bill down in the summer...Oh maybe they are in cahoots with Edison and Co.) It had a haircut that I can only call a butch-cut. Down to the nub. That must have been about 5 or 7 years ago and just now the poor thing is finally starting to come back. This tree has been the glory of the neighborhood and for years in the fall has graced us with the beauty of golden leaves. I love it when the sun shines through the foliage during that time of year and bathes the whole front of the house in a Midas touch of beauty.

So there I was running to get dressed and hopping around to get on my pants, I was barely pulling on my shirt and jamming a hat on my unkempt bedhead when I made it out the door and began yelling at the men in the tree!
Get out of there!  You don't have permission to cut my tree! It's not on city property! NO PERMISO! ALTO! ALTO! I yelled. (Maybe they hire men who don't speak english so they can claim they don't understand when you tell them to go away.) 

The guys in the tree all grinned and stopped their chain saws but remained in the tree watching the boss, "Padron", on the ground.

It seemed they were getting a kick out of me yelling at him and telling them to get off my property. He told me the city told them to cut the tree. I said NO! go away! Give me the city number, "Ill tell  them where they can go!" 

"I like my tree just the way it is." We have tons of memories wraped around that  tree. So, the up-shot was, I was given a number to call and get an explanation. Well, "Ignacio" has some s'plaining to do! Not even a notification about the cutting! I almost feel like I need to be as dilligent as Butterfly Jones. She was the tree-hugger lady who sat in an oak tree to prevent people from cutting it down to build more and more homes.  Good for her! Good for me, I averted another tree biting the dust! I hope, I can only HOPE they don't come one day when I'm gone.

Confession time!....I never called Ignacio, but the men with the chain-saws never came back...Yeah!

I skate for the t-birds...Never trust a Frenchman!...UP-DATE

He is at it again, my angelic husband who loves to tease! Yesterday I discovered he recently told the guys at work I am barely five feet tall and over 400 pounds.  I'm not sure it's politically correct to discuss the weight of a woman these days, but his personal filter is non-existent when it concerns me.


However his boss heard the comment and told everyone the story of a very "fat" wife was a lie. Then this fellow proceeded to tell all who would listen that he had seen me several times and I was a willowy blond. (a bit of an exaggeration on his part)
Behind closed doors Patrick reminded this fellow of his loyal support when the boss told white lies and himself teased and tormented his workers and sub-contractors.


And so I heard from the horses mouth (so to speak...) that the big boss in a loud resounding voice rescinded his statement and said he had met the rotund me and I could cause earthquakes when I got mad and jumped up and down...which was frequently since my temper had not cooled down much from when I was a professional roller-derby queen for the t-birds in the 60's.


Once again Patricks reputation as a saint, who still loves and adores his wife and her largeness...has been preserved. (I'm not sure if he said this time my legs were amputated in an accident but it doesn't matter much anymore).  Does anyone know where I can get a t-birds jersey to prove his fantasy is true. I do think he is beginning to believe his own tall tales...the problem is...so am I!


Following is my original story of my lying, fib-telling tease of a husband !  If you  havent' seen it yet...read on...


For some strange reason my husband has been blessed with an innocent face and most things he says folks believe.  I have heard people say he looks like a cop...and since his name is Patrick...he looks like, an Irish cop...an honest fellow.  Not So!   He is a Frenchman...and is as slippery as they come!


He is the master of words and can croon unbelievable stories that sound true...especially regarding me his sweet and innocent wife.  I have heard it said how rude the French speak, but I think mostly they are masters of disguise, and I know for a fact the phrase, "Never trust a French Man." rings true.


Please remember I came from a quiet formal New York City family where dinner was served on a white linen tablecloth, and one never told stories unless they were the honest truth...as opposed to my fib-telling husband's family of five boys who were from a homestead ranch in the middle of no-where and quite close to cave men in their behavior. (the mother of the household, Ruth, lost the battle for civility many years before I married into the family). The truth is all the men in the Hanrion family delighted in deception.


Soon after we married my husband would introduce me as his "little roller skating wife."  When people would ask, he then explained we had met when he attended a roller derby match at the Los Angeles arena and I was a jammer for the Lady Thunder-Birds rollerskating squad.  He did this with such a quiet and sincere voice and serious face everyone believed him.  At first I was stunned and would loudly protest, but he would shush me and say, "Now Dear, don't be ashamed of your past...and you were so cute in your tight uniform and were a very skilled roller derby girl! I fell madly in love." And much to my chagrin, over my complaints...most all believed him and were in awe of my talent and also a bit afraid that if confronted I would punch them out, since Patrick would then explain, "She has a bit of a temper, so watch what you say and don't set her off."


Soon I gave up trying to protest as I knew my words would fall on deaf ears once he had persuaded all within earshot, I was only shy and did not want anyone to know of my fame and talent.  So after a while I didn't try to convince others his words were a lie, hoping this would quell his enthusiasm for embarrassing me. Oh! not so.  It didn't work.  So, I then began to agree with him and added tales of my prowess and stories of my victories.


This did not stop him either, so I gave up and when he started with his deception of my past when introduced to new acquaintances, I would walk away in disgust and leave him to weave the tale of our meeting, much to the amazement of those listening.


I found this talent extended to the office where he told the office help his wife was a "little person" or quadriplegic, or double or quadruple amputee.  Most would feel sorry for him and amaze at his kindness and concern.  That he, such a big and virile man would have the consideration and compassion to care for such an invalid never questioning what he said.  All the while he was chuckling at their gullibility.

However, as the years past, some became aware of his deception and wild imaginative stories and knew he was a tease and that he would patiently wait to spring the joke that trapped his audience.  But they were never quite sure about his tales and always held in reserve the tiny possibility that he told the truth.  My daughter Rebecca and her family a few years ago dressed as nerds for Halloween and the photos were quite funny.   About a month later he showed the photo to a secretary in the office who had a particularly tender heart.  He told the story of how proud he was of his middle daughter who was handicapped..."Eugenia" and the husband she met at the institution, and the sweet, yet mentally handicapped children they bore.


The secretary, slowly and (knowing Patrick was a tease,) quietly with trepidation responded with sympathy and concern.  It was several days later he showed her a real photo of Rebecca and her handsome...very smart boys.  This secretary didn't speak to him for several days saying she had wasted her emotions and worry about him and his daughter Eugenia.  From then on she called him "The Devil", and "Doctor Evil."  He wore the monikers with pride!  Imagine!


While he was in Chandler he told the engineers and other Superintendents his wife was a "little person".  This happened when someone in the office was speaking negatively about some TV show regarding midgets.  He told the person he was offended by the word midget especially since his wife was a "little person."  Of course he said this all with a straight face, and then immediately walked back to his cubicle as if upset by the conversation.


I guess there was a buzz in the office for a while..."Is it true Pat's wife it a...ummm "little person?"  No one knew, and so they called to the office in Anaheim Calif...those guys had never met me and didn't know, or couldn't tell them for sure. And the men were not quite sure if he was telling them the truth or not, and when asked repeatedly, Patrick of course, would only bow his head and turn away with a few tears in his eyes.


I visited Chandler for the first time during Spring break from teaching at COC.  The first morning there I drove him to the work site at Intel and dropped him off so I could have use of the car.  I guess all the guys at the office were still wondering about the little lady who was Pat's wife...quite a match since he is over 6"2 " tall.  When I arrived to pick him up that afternoon I noticed the parking lot was loaded with quite a few men milling around and talking in groups.  Patrick stood by himself near the stop sign so I slowed to allow him to climb into the passenger seat.  I noticed several of the men had disgusted looks on their faces as they turned and walked away and when I questioned the behavior the reply came..."Oh, their disappointed your not a little person, that's all."


"Up to your old tricks again.  If you had told me I could have scrunched down in the seat and looked through the steering wheel to go along with the joke," I responded, as I had learned...It's better to go along with the gag than to fight city hall.  If not, he just would have invented some other story for his amusement!


It's amazing to me after all these years he can still pull suckers in (I guess there really is one born every minute) and hook someone to reel them in like an unsuspecting catch while he laughs like mad on the inside.  Often times the "catch" never learns the truth... "Leave 'em guessing and that's the best reward," or so he says!


Somehow, after all the stories he tells, I am starting to be convinced I was quite the skater,
yes I was....
I know I was...
wasn't I?