A few days ago Steve and I received an awesome wedding gift in the mail. My cousin out in Utah makes cards, and she sent us a whole batch of them… from Christmas and Easter cards to birthday cards. They are just so cool I had to share them with you.
We received several great gifts on the day we were married, some really neat stuff: wine from one of the local wineries; Christmas nativity along with sparkling grape juice; a personalized Christmas ornament to commemorate our wedding day; gift certificates; grilling set; a lovely rose bush; a neat plaque about remembering why we got married and love; small urns; cards with great sentiments;
And this:
If only it would have been Brenda Wood instead of Brenda Harlen!!
It’s from my cousin, Sandy. She knew it was the perfect gift for us. It’s so perfect because our romance was so trashy, just like a good Harlequin book. As a matter of fact, it’s the trashiest romance I have ever had. For several years Steve and I have been neighbors and have had this trashy connection; but only late last year did it turn into a trashy attraction.
The picture below will explain it better.
Several years ago I decided to clean up my portion of the alley a little bit and hired someone to make a concrete pad for a barrel and compost bin. It was supposed to have been on my property, but as you can see, my property ends at the fence and most of the pad sits on the property next to me. So in order to keep peace with my neighbor and not have a fight over the legality of the trash, I have always told anyone who moves into the house next door to use the barrel and compost; I’ll pay the bill.
Steve moved in a few years ago, so on occasion I would see him at the trash site or in his garage a bit to the east of the trash site. As time passed, he became caretaker of the trash site: burning when it needed to be burned or got too full. Worked great!
One rainy, summer, romantic evening as I was taking my trash out to the trash barrel, he asked me out… sort of… more like “You want to sit on your deck and shoot the shyte some night?” I must have had on make-up. Normally the conversation was “How’s it going? I’ll burn that.” Yes, appalled ecowatchers, we burn here in our rural area. Unless it’s dry as a bone. Or trash pickup is the next day.
As shocked as I was, I said sure. After all, he was really good about keeping the trash all tidy and I may as well be neighborly. We wound up getting hitched, and last week, when I got the trash bill for January… I handed it to him.
No need to worry about who owns the trash site anymore.
apronsandappetites 