Well, dang. My hopes of seeing the new SPCA were thwarted this morning when we arrived, and were told they didn't open until noon. Never mind their website said 10 AM. I'm thinking they could have publicized that minor fact but whatev. When we were asked if we "could come back in an hour or so", we told them "Uh, no". Despite it's lovely outside appearance, since that's all we got to see, it's not real easy to find--at least not as easy as the old one. Double rats on that fact. We were not the only ones who did not know about their noon opening--one lady and her two daughters were surrendering a big old orange cat and a small black dog, and I didn't have the heart to tell her to get back in her truck and come back at noon. I figured I'd let the SPCA people do their own dirty work. We did get one great laugh, despite our disappointment. Since we made it through the first set of the entrance doors, we did get to see the photograph of Jan Rees-Jones. The part we liked best was....she's photographed in a ball gown, holding one dog, with another dog at her feet. Yeah....on the wall at the SPCA.
Yes, I do know that she and Trevor donated the facility and probably the land it's sitting on. Their last name is plastered on the outside of the building. But a ballgown?? Really?? I was thinking more of a shot of her in jeans, rubber boots, and a power hose, washing out the dog kennels. Or a shot of her lying down, covered in dogs, in a play area. Something a tad more appropriate to a wall of the SPCA than a woman in a ballgown, holding a dog.
And speaking of dogs, a certain someone around here just hit the jackpot and is riding in her brother's lap as we speak, on her way to the Farm with both of her boy friends. She knew they were going somewhere fun, so she laid down on the doormat by the back door, so they couldn't possibly open the door, without taking her. She's lot of things but dumb sure isn't one of them. I packed her coat and a travel water since it's likely to be chilly and she'll get thirsty after all of her running around. They may get themselves a drink, but it's me that takes care of her.
Lastly, the pecan lady. OMG. I made my second trip over to their yard a few days ago. Previously, I had rung their doorbell and asked for permission to pick up pecans. An adorable young twenty something guy answered, I handed him a ball I'd found in their yard, and asked if it would be OK to pick up pecans. He could not have been sweeter and told me to "take all you want and come back any time". So, I got busy. A few days later, I went back to pick up a few more, before we were to have gotten rain. Out the front door blew this harridan..... who immediately started in with "Oh, yeah...I heard about you....You're the one who brought the ball...really...my youngest kid is 16..it wasn't ours. Take a few but the leave the rest for us...I like to give them as gifts". All of this as she steamed past me. I stood there stunned. She crossed the street to go walk, I picked up two pecans and she yelled " OK...that's enough". With that I left. I left feeling like I'd been hit by a bus.
As Fred and I sat on the driveway, cracking pecans, I told him what had happened, and how she had reacted. I was still just in shock. We finished up and I decided to fix her wagon but good. I took all of the pecans we had picked--all were halves-- and all were perfectly cleaned to get out the stuff in the ridges. (Toothpicks are the answer if you don't have nut tools.) Anyway, I poured all of them into a zip lock, closed the bag, and took them over to Ms. Hell on Wheels, and gave them to her. She wasn't home--which is the best part--so I left them anonymously on her front porch, leaning the bag against her front door.
She clearly is not a real happy gal and I don't know what her circumstances are, so rather than be pissed, I figured it made more sense to be nice. It takes a lot less energy and is tons more fun to think about what she must have thought when she got them. Hopefully, it made her think for a minute.... Maybe not. But it sure was loads more fun. Needless to say, other than encouraging Sis to poop in her yard, my pecan picking has been moved permanently.
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