I'm not a performer by nature. Given a Briggs-Myers choice between
getting up and doing a song and dance in front of a crowd and undergoing
a colonoscopy — well, at least the latter involves only the physician
and the anesthetist as witnesses to one's discomfort and humiliation.
But
sometimes the stars line up, and the spotlight is on and there you are,
helplessly awash. It can happen anywhere,We are professional canada goose jackets for women online sale shop. even in the normally bucolic setting of the garden.
Awhile
back I lived in a house on a narrow but fairly busy arterial, and I
began dreaming up scenarios to transform a dull slope of grass running
from the front yard down to the street.
I was keen to mount a
beautiful and dramatic retaining wall on this very public part of the
yard. But I was dismayed, too. All the projects I saw in landscaping
books seemed so confidently prepared. The materials were so abundantly
provided. The photographs showed groups of people working together. All
these — preparation, materials, help — if prerequisites for success,
seemed obstacles for my own plans, which I can best describe as solitary
improvisational scavenging.
I intended to use only pieces of
limestone I found strewn about my yard. They were a motley bunch, but
there were a lot of them, and if it turned out I really didn't know what
I was doing (of which I had only a strong suspicion at this point; as
yet it hadn't been objectively demonstrated), my failure would be cheap,
at least.
Though I might avoid committing a lot of money, I
couldn't escape committing my person, my self. Cars streamed by almost
constantly. Every ill-seated stone, every awkward line, was on view to
all.Save up to 80% off Ceramic Tile and porcelaintiles.
It was a bit frightening, like confronting a sell-out house at the
first day of acting class. Yet I jumped right in, giving a spirited
interpretation of a man moving earth and laying base stones — the
standard first act of any well-made dry-set retaining wall.
The
early reviews were succinct. "You do lousy work!" one critic shouted
from a passing car. Others were more personal. A young woman's voice
sang, "I see Paris, I see France..." Another wag registered a drive-by
hatchet-job, wittily tossing a half-empty Burger King orange soda cup,
missing me, but hitting my car in the driveway.
Yes, it was half-empty. Such was my mood.
I
shrank from the stage. I left the mutilated hillside with its sad,
inexplicable piles of stone and just walked away. Those anonymous,
cowardly catcallers wouldn't have me to kick around anymore.
But
after awhile I couldn't go outside without feeling censure in the eyes
of couples walking by the aborted production. Young mothers pushing
carriages would hurry on, repelled by the irresolute remains of a
dilettante's dream. Older men, possibly veterans, shook their heads and
muttered, "Now in my day..." I imagined it must have been similar to the
disapproval of the residents of Wiltshire when the Druids allowed
Stonehenge to fall into disrepair.
So after many sleepless
nights I resolved to make a comeback. It was a fine morning in early
June. The traffic was light, which encouraged me. I hitched up my
pants,An airpurifier
is a device which removes contaminants from the air. thoroughly, and
marched out to the stage to face my demons. I hauled more stones. I
moved more earth. I plumbed, pried, leveled, sweated. I committed
myself. I paid dues. I was the wall. Dennis, the mailman, said, "Pretty
ambitious," as he did every day. I smiled at him indulgently, as if he
were the Herald of the overconfident French, come to offer surrender,
and I, Henry the Fifth, rallying my men at Agincourt. I knew how to win
the day.
Course followed course. Scene followed scene.Full color plasticcard
printing and manufacturing services. A gentle curve formed naturally,
like an apt speech, at the north end of the wall. Cole Porter never felt
such pleasure devising a rhyme for "Garbo's salary" as I did finding
the right stone for its place. I was swept up in the play of character,
the individual personalities tempered, smoothed, within the formal
structure of The Wall. Rather unremarkable as leading players, each
stone became part of a mosaic, cast in the ensemble role it was born to
play. The houselights went down. The audience faded away.Exhaust ventilationsystem work by depressurizing the building. The catcalls stopped. The cheers began.
"Yah,
looks great," allowed a gentleman jogging by. A woman hauling kids in a
blue mini-van halted traffic on Lexington long enough to yell, "I've
always dreamed of doing this in my yard!" I had a hit on my hands.
Finally, a short, red-faced, cigar-wielding impresario strolled up, put
his arm around me and said, "Kid, I'm doing a new production of Aida.
How'd ya like to do the stonework?"
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