Bzzzz. What is that annoying sound? Bzzzz, there it is again. Oh, right the doorbell...you know I've been meaning to disconnect that damn thing.
It's not that I don't want visitors; okay, I lied, I don't. I hate that the sound terrifies the cats and sends the dog and kids into hyper-drive.
On those infrequent occasions when the bell does toll, both the canine and the children rush to get to the door before me. Once they skid to a stop by the door, they commence the visitor dance, chanting, "Who is it? Who is it?"
Sigh, despite my best efforts, including various booby traps, alligator filled moat and no discernible house number; think I'm kidding, an interloper somehow made it to my front porch.
I peer out the front door and see Santa Claus. I look again. Much to my dismay it is not really Santa Claus, bah humbug it is just a local would be politician. One who bears a striking resemblance to the jolly old elf? I'm not sure it that will help or hinder him in the primaries!
Alas, instead of bearing an armload of gifts, all he had was card with his catchy slogan "Stop the Menace with Dennis."
No, I promise I am not making this up. Lord, if only I could make up stuff that good. Nor am I exaggerating. His campaign slogan was "Stop the Menace."
I open the screen door a miniscule amount, as I am about to suggest he vacate the premises he shoves his card in; it informs me that he is running for Assemblyman.
I hate to show my ignorance; oh, hell, why get all shy now, but I have no idea what an Assemblyman does, nor may I quickly point out do I want to know.
What exactly is the menace he is claiming to stop? Maybe, it's other politicians, the creeping-unknown-what-is-it.
No, I didn't ask him-do I look crazy. Roving politicians are like bears; your best chance of survival is to play dead. Certainly don't make eye contact or leave food out for them.
In the case of politicians, the food is you making any noise that sounds remotely like "yes, tell me more about your harebrained scheme to conquer the local government"
Instead, I remain behind the screen door, which usually does the trick for the average peddler. Of course, that could be due to the enormous black dog that stands right next to me. Usually, the peddlers look relieved that the glass separates them from Fido.
No, not this politician. He cheerfully informed me that I was wise to stay inside, as the mosquitoes were terrible.
Yes, yes they were. Yet, good old Dennis faithfully launched into his story as the mosquitoes commenced strafing him.
I admired his ability to retain the thread of his presentation while a swarm of insects appeared to fly up his nostril.
I'm ready, well, almost, to vote for the tenacious bugger, but after he wraps up his talk, he proceeds to wander off my front porch and cut across my lawn to get to the neighbor's house. He totally ignores the sidewalk.
Oh, no, obviously, he is one of those mavericks. Ignoring all common sense paths and you know what happens to those politicians.
Besides you never know what kind of danger lurks in my lawn, I don't want him tripping over an errant toy and spraining his ankle or worse stepping in a pile of dog poop and billing me for the damage to his loafers. I am sure homeowners insurance doesn't cover dog poop related incidents.
Jennifer Flaten lives where the local delicacy is fried cheese, Wisconsin. She writes about family life, its amusing or not so amusing moments. "At least it's not another article on global warming," she says. Jennifer bakes a mean banana bread and admits an unusual attraction to balloon animals and cup cakes. Busy preparing for the zombie apocalypse, she stills finds time to write "As I See It," her witty, too often true column. "My urge to write," says Jennifer, "is driven by my love of cupcakes, with sprinkles on top. Who wouldn't write for cupcakes, with sprinkles," she wonders.
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