Oh sewer tree, how smelly are thy branches...

Well, is it any wonder why I have not been able to post anything on my blog since August when, in order to type a single paragraph without being interrupted, I have to lock myself inside my office and barricade the door with chairs. Even at this very instant I have a set of eyeballs on me, staring at me through the glass door of which I have tried to cover with a few of the family coats and backpacks. There are some gaps in my effort and daughter # 1 has forgotten that she is far too old to be doing this-annoying me on purpose by peering through the glass because she doesn't want me to write about her...which is exactly what I am about to do. And now daughter # 3 has joined her. Bending awkwardly way down in order to reach a bare spot where my "curtains" haven't reached, she is pressing a coupon from a local mailer and her nose against the glass; "Mmmom..." her words are muffled behind the door, "This is a coupon for thirty-five percent off boots and snowboard bindings...''
"Oh for Pete's sake. Let your mother have ten uninterrupted minutes! I have waited until eleven p.m. to write this just so no one would bug me and that is when you all decide to wander the house like zombies looking for fresh meat. Briti, GO AWAY before I tell the whole world on you. Dallas, why on earth have you picked this very moment to show me a coupon? Thirty five percent off is not worth talking about at this hour of the night. Come back next Tuesday at five if you can find a coupon for a hundred percent off. Until then, goodbye. Don't come near this door again until you have kids of your own." Oh brother.
I thought I would begin by talking about all the things that have gone on in the past few months, things like surviving the swine flu, the stomach flu and a close call with pneumonia (of which I have suffered before some years back), and other things like my new front load washer and dryer that I swear could fly a regular gal like me to the moon- they're so high-tech. I should elaborate here because I would have ya'll know that I have never ever in my whole life had a brand new washer and dryer due to the fact that Doug felt there were just many other priorities in life, like man-tools. But since I am no longer washing our clothes in an iron pot down by the river, I think we'll visit that story another day.
 There are other subjects that might be of particular interest to one or two of you, like the sewer tree. And since strange happenings like that don't occur in everyday life, I suppose you may want to hear about that.

 Way back in the year 1972, a man who's name I don't feel free to mention built his family a house on a quiet street in a neighborhood that at one time had been acres of orchard. I might want to add that this good man was no craftsman to say the least, yet he prided himself on being just that. We have spent ten years fixing his mistakes, but the evidence that this man had no idea what he was doing still shows up now and again in various ways, such as with the sewer tree. Now, until just ten days ago the sewer tree had occupied a post on the south east corner of the property where we now reside. I must admit that I'm not really sure if our nameless builder actually planted this tree or if it was already there when he built the house, a tiny seedling just getting started  in the world, whereas our builder friend didn't have the heart to pluck it up nor was he equipped with the ability to foresee the tree's potential for getting just huge someday. None the less, he let the tree stay where it was, and it grew. It grew and grew, and grew closer and closer to the house, it's lofty branches stretching out over the rooftop like a protective mother's arms. Soon the tree was so close to the house that by the time we moved in, one could reach an arm out the kitchen window and gently caress it's trunk with a tender hand.
   Don't get me wrong, I love tree's and it's a sad day indeed when a decision needs to be made whether or not to cut one down. This particular tree-although considered a "junk tree"- was near and dear to my heart (albeit too near) simply due to the fact that it attracted little birdies and stuff and it had leaves on it, something that shaded the house and created a romantic sort of ambiance from the corner windows where I would stand and look outside while washing dishes or otherwise engaged in the various chores that make up the routines of daily life. However, little to our knowledge the tree was also attracting something else. You see, as the tree was growing- long before we arrived on the scene- it's little roots began to spread out and do what all tree's by nature generally do, search for water. Deep beneath the earth's layers of  grass and  weeds and bugs, and worms and rocks and crust, our tree was performing it's natural and yet miraculous function of sucking enormous amounts of water up through it's roots and into it's trunk. As a side note here, just for the sake of interest, let's investigate the miracle we have all come to know simply as a  tree.  On a particularly steamy summer day, perhaps one might look around for the shade of a large tree in an effort to cool down, and yet  so often one does so  without the slightest idea of what is going on under that layer of bark. However, just beneath a tree's surface lies silent but profound evidence of the existence of God. Without so much as a shudder, a tree will lift hundreds of gallons of water a day from it's finger-like roots and  up through three thin layers of tissue where it then dispenses it into it's leafy green's and from there, into the vaporous atmosphere. It is truly incredible. I myself have been known to complain if I have to carry more than one gallon of milk from the car, but let's get back to the story. As I was saying, our tree was performing all it's natural function's but with one exception. Because the tree was so close to the house, it's search for water was rather short- and successful when it's roots reached the nearby sewer lines. Somehow the tree managed to dig it's powerful tentacles into the water lines under and around the house where it found a happy and steady source of nourishment. This kind of thing isn't all that uncommon- and quite to the contrary, rather common for large and well established trees. What we found uncommon and even shocking was that our tree was not only sucking up water into it's trunk, but sewage as well-and I know how gross that must be to imagine but I was actually here to witness it and believe me it's far more gross in real life. Not to put too dull a point on it- the tree was "pooping" through it's trunk.
   When first discovered by our younger children, my disbelief was profound. But after giving it a real good look, I realized  to my horror that all those times I had cracked the window and smelled a really bad smell...I was smelling the tree.Convincing Doug that this was actually the truth was a bit difficult and I finally had to break down and do some investigative internet searching to prove it. But after presenting all the evidence that the tree was actually seeping sewage, it took him no time at all to run out and buy a chainsaw (because Doug never pays anyone to do something he believes he can do all by himself. )
  I wish I had the time to get into the details of  how Doug went about cutting down that enormous tree all by himself, but I will  say that somehow he managed to do it without killing anybody and the only damage done was some deep tire tracks his truck left in the middle of the park by our house- and about a billion little twigs still scattered across the yard. The good news is that the tree is gone. The bad news is that there is no shade on that side of the house anymore and Doug now owns a chainsaw, a threat to every tree in America as I have already had to scold him for trying to cut down everything from here to Montana. Montana...upon saying that out loud daughter # 1 has resurfaced, telling me she is really glad her dad has decided to become a lumberjack because we won't have a single thing to worry about when the world comes to an end and we are all forced to run to Montana and live in the woods. I stare at her for a really long time trying to figure out what on earth she is talking about. Remember, it's pretty late now and I am getting really tired. "Why on earth would we be running to Montana to live in the woods if the world comes to an end?" I ask her,
"Because people will be coming here from other states and trying to eat all our food." She tells me. "What?" is all I can think to say in response. She keeps talking but I don't understand any of it. It gets more and more ridiculous until I find myself nearly doubled over with laughter.
But I'll save that story for tomorrow.