Saturnalia, with Trees

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The day before Thanksgiving, the City of Chicago came by and plunked two young trees in front of our house, curbside.  When we moved here, there was a single great big old maple in front that annihilated Angus, my old car, in April of 2006.  They chopped the whole thing down about a month later, and it took this long for them to get around to replacing it.  The new trees are Thornless Cockspur Hawthornes.  I looked them up; they will be covered with lovely white flowers in spring, which are described as “malodorous,” “unpleasantly scented,” and just plain “stinky”, and in fall, they will produce clusters of beautiful purple berries which will then drop all over our current cars.

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There’s some metaphor there for my current life, in problematic beauty, but I don’t want to reach too hard to find it.  My astrology friend says that I am in “pre-Saturn-return” and that my life will continue on in upheaval and uncertainty through 2012.  Cheerful news. Maybe I should stop blogging till then (if there is a then then).

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Here’s an amusing link thanks to Sara A via Facebook.  The scary thing is that I remember reading the book “Junior Miss” in my junior high library; though I don’t remember the content at all, I do remember this very cover illustration. It was what girls my age were supposed to aspire to. I imagine she Got The Boy due to her sterling and innocent character, which was also the be-all and end-all of our ideal futures.

Th-that’s all, folks.  I am resting up, doing some work, and trying not to dread most of the next two weeks. Or the next four years, for that matter. Onward.

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