Two pale, horrid squashes were left by my door
Crying “we’re few! but we’re going to be more!”
An unspoken, tacit, unneighborly threat:
If I leave my house, these two will beget
A surfeit of squashes, tinged with the pallor
Of death and decay, and hour after hour
More death shall be birthed upon prickly vine
And hundreds of stillborn plants shall be mine
Should I, in an incautious moment be caught
Off guard, or asleep, or somewhere that’s not
At home, by my door, with my shotgun in hand—
No more squashes! I hate them. You understand.
My people, in preparation for our imminent departure for greener (and far more expensive, if memory serves) pastures, I’m holding a virtual garage sale. This will happen by and large on craigslist, where I have flogged many an item and will flog many more. In honor of the oral argument regarding same-sex marriage that is being heard by the Supremes even as I type, I’m putting a wonderful painting of two lovers of indeterminate sex on the auction block. There might be a third lover in there–I’m not sure. Actually, I’m not even sure what species these lovers are. Let’s agree to call the painting “Two Aliens In Love.” I had the canvas custom-framed by an adorable boy who set up shop right in my driveway, and let me tell you, that guy was NOT straight. No, not by any stretch of the imagination. And he did a beautiful job with the frame, which cost me almost as much as the painting. What am I bid?
My personal annals have just disgorged (and let us pause to consider the elegance of those opening words) the remaining sheet of stationery designed and produced for me, once upon a time, by my sister Allison. This harkens back to the day when college students hovered over xerox machines making hilarious (and expensive!) things to send to each other. As I recall, she made a ream of this stuff for me to use as letterhead when I was a missionary in Brazil. Which I did. Seemed appropriate. Yes, it certainly conveyed the idea that the contents of the subsequent letter were sure to be deeply religious.