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Allison Larkin

Internationally Best-Selling Author

You are here: Home / life / Clark Griswold has nothing on me.

Clark Griswold has nothing on me.

November 30, 2010 Filed Under: life

Western New York is a windy, windy place, especially in November.  The grocery stores have high wind warning signs in the parking lot asking customers to corral their shopping carts, it’s not unusual to find your garbage can in your neighbors yard, and some days, it feels like the whole house might pick up and blow away.
After a morning of finishing up a bunch of odds and ends, I’d finally settled into writing.  I had my coffee, water, and snacks lined up.  The ringer was off on my phone, and the perfect writing music was playing on iTunes.  Then I heard glass breaking in the garage.
I’d forgotten to close the back door to the garage when I let the dogs in after their morning outing.  The wind was blowing so hard that the storm door must have come unhooked and when it slammed shut, the bottom panel broke, throwing slivers of shattered glass at least five feet in either direction onto the garage floor and the back patio.  Since the wind was still blowing the broken glass around, and that’s the door the dogs use to go outside, there was no getting to it later.  I said goodbye to my perfect cup of steaming hot coffee, threw on my big old baggy yard work jeans and my old running shoes and went to work.  And it sucked.  Hard.
I got glass in my shoe.  I came face to face with a really big spider.  The shop vac smelled like something had died in it.  As I was gagging over the smell and trying to vacuum the glass out of the door frame, the storm door blew shut again and hit me in the head.  Hard.
My big old baggy yard work jeans weren’t staying up without a belt, but since my hands were covered in disgusting shop vac dust, I didn’t want to touch anything, let alone hoist them up, so I was just short of mooning the garage door.  I comforted myself with the thought that someone would actually have to be looking directly into our garage windows to see me, which I decided was highly unlikely . . . and then I heard the daily collection of bills and ad circulars fly through the mail slot (no pun intended) at the front of the garage.  So if the mail lady happened to peek in the window while she was delivering the mail, I’m pretty sure she got a show.  Then while I was making sure there weren’t any slivers of glass in the yard, I stepped in dog poop.  And I couldn’t help but think, I’ve seen this movie before.
I would like Chevy Chase to play me.  Or maybe Ben Stiller. . .

7 Comments

Comments

  1. courtney says

    November 30, 2010 at 9:39 pm

    Oh, lady, I’m so sorry! … but I still have to laugh at the thought of the mail lady getting a view of your bottom because your giant pants fell down. :)

    Reply
  2. Chiot's Run says

    November 30, 2010 at 10:03 pm

    Oh, so sorry, sounds like a story from your book.

    Reply
  3. Jen says

    November 30, 2010 at 10:47 pm

    Oh, man. I’d have probably allowed myself a temper tantrum after that (not that it ever does any good, and usually does me more harm).

    I’m sorry you had such a rotten day!

    Reply
  4. Wombat Central says

    December 1, 2010 at 1:33 am

    Mail call–hello! That was hilarious. Though I’m sure it wasn’t for you. But the retelling was. :)

    When it’s windy on our street, everyone’s recycling bins roll to the end of the street. If your name isn’t on it, it’s fair game at the end of the day.

    Reply
  5. Mickey says

    December 1, 2010 at 4:15 am

    Just please write that movie yourself. I think Ben Stiller may be out of jokes.

    Reply
  6. Kate says

    December 1, 2010 at 4:19 pm

    And you didn’t take a picture for us, why?

    Reply
  7. Allie says

    December 2, 2010 at 5:17 pm

    Courtney – Oh, I’m laughing now. How can you not laugh? I mooned the mail lady!

    Chiot’s – Life imitating art imitating life? :)

    Jen – You know, I just sucked it up in the moment. I’m thinking the temper tantrum will show up a few days from now when I stub my toe or something.

    WC – It’s funny now. But yeah, at the time . . . not so much.

    Mickey – I miss Reality Bites/Permanent Midnight-era Ben Stiller. He was dreamy.

    Kate – You got a picture of the broken glass. I’m not at the point where I’m ready to post photos of plumber’s crack on the internet. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever be ready for that. :)

    Reply

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We are in the habit of starting and ending our day We are in the habit of starting and ending our days side by side in our lawn chairs, while the light rises or dims. It’s still chilly at the outer edges of the day. Sometimes Roxy shivers. I bought her a sweater, but she won’t wear it. Sometimes I try to wrap her in my jacket, but she’s not having that either, so I throw her ball and try to get her run and then she comes back to her chair, warm for a little longer. #dailyroxydog #huskychihuahua #dogssittinginchairs
“I got a secret I should tell. I’m going up to “I got a secret I should tell. I’m going up to heaven in a split pea shell.” ~ @petermulvey43 Words Too Small to Say
Happy as a dog in a freshly dug nap hole. #dailyro Happy as a dog in a freshly dug nap hole. #dailyroxydog #huskymixesofinstagram
I saw this little dresser at my favorite magic ant I saw this little dresser at my favorite magic antique store sometime in November and didn’t buy it. But then, of course, I kept thinking about her. She’s the perfect size for my office, and I found those drawer pulls hilarious. When I finally went back in December, I told myself I was shopping for wall art, because I assumed she would be gone. But she was right where I’d seen her last: balanced on another dresser with boxes of old picture frames and tchotchkes piled on top (the true mark of a magic antique store). I didn’t even realize she had a towel rack — that she was a wash stand, not a dresser — until I asked about the price, said I’d take her, and my favorite magic antique store person asked if we needed to unscrew the towel rack to fit her in my car. I suspect this little sweetie is not from the days of necessary wash stands so much as from a country kitchen in the 80s. She was in rough shape, and not made from wood worth stripping and re-staining, but her price reflected that. I had to disassemble that door and put it back together, but I’d been in the market for some experience working with old furniture, and she made me feel brave about trying. I thought about painting her something more neutral, but I’m so glad I didn’t. She deserves to be pink. She’s not perfectly painted and needs a few touch ups. I learned some things about chalk paint and finishes. The drawers stick a bit. Eventually, I’d like to line them with fabric and when I do, I might plane the edges to smooth things out. But goodness, I love her in a way that I wouldn’t if I hadn’t spent time cleaning away her cobwebs and scrubbing the grime from her hilarious drawer pulls. She’s also become a little shrine for the book I’m working on, which makes me love her even more. I’ve always been a person who sees some soul in certain things, and I’m learning to cherish that idiosyncrasy, because there’s so much joy to be found in a brave little toaster or an underdog wash stand. We’re not here in the world for all that long. We may as well love some bright little things. #furnituremakeover
After Roxy started stealing my seat, I dragged a s After Roxy started stealing my seat, I dragged a second lawn chair out. She nudges me over and we sit in our chairs, side by side, and watch the sun set. Well, I watch the sun set. She spies on the neighbors. #dailyroxydog #dogstagram #sundayevening
I truly don’t understand how anyone is this cute I truly don’t understand how anyone is this cute. I never get used to it. There’s no immunity. She’s adorable beyond what pictures can capture. #dailyroxydog #huskymixesofinstagram #ilovemydog
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