Tree Stylist to the Stars

Every morning before Tony goes to work, he kisses me goodbye and tells me to behave. I interpret that to mean, "I'll miss you with every fiber of my being while I'm at work". He interprets that to mean, "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone".

And while he's never actually articulated exactly what his definition of "doing something stupid" is, I'm pretty sure by the look on his face when he pulled into the driveway yesterday afternoon to find me leaping from tree branch to tree branch, 20 feet in the air, while brandishing a chain saw that that might be somewhere in the ballpark.

Well, that and the fact that he threatened to have me enrolled in a daycare so someone could keep an eye on me during the day.

But I have a totally valid excuse.

See, it all started when the local tree trimmers for the power company came out to trim tree limbs away from the power lines. (Yes, my neighborhood is too old to have buried power lines like everyone else...we just aren't that highfalutin' around here). They do this every few years, and they cut away all the branches within so many feet of the wires so that the trees don't interfere with them. All well and good.

Anyway, I have some trees in my front yard, but I wasn't really worried about them because they are way far back from the power lines. One of the trees might have a few branches that needed a trim, but nothing drastic. A snip snip here, a snip there, and viola! Nothing to fret about.

Except that they completely scalped my tree.

Apparently the tree trimmers get their cutting techniques from the same school as those stylists at those EconoCuts places who offer the $6 haircuts because before you could even say, "Just a little off the top", half of my tree was gone.

(Oh, I wish I could have caught them doing it red-handed, because even three burly guys wielding chainsaws is no match for a woman whose tree has just been mutilated. I would have so gone The Matrix all over them. Alas, by the time I glanced out the window and saw the damage, they were already gone, the cowards.)

This, of course, left me no choice but to try to even things up by doing an emergency tree haircut. I mean, the tree was just begging me to do something! I couldn't just leave it like that! It was either add some layers to disguise some of the more drastic cuts, or figure out how to fashion a giant baseball cap for the tree to wear for the next two years.

So I got my ladder out, grabbed my chainsaw, and climbed the tree. And while I would normally suggest that people limit tree climbing with power tools to the professionals, it just so happens that I am an excellent tree climber, and very handy with my little chain saw.

And I was totally wearing safety glasses, so that counts.

And I even remembered to move my car out from under the tree before I started, which just shows that I am boiling over with responsibility and forethought.

So there.

And just so we're clear, I was completely fine. I successfully removed several branches and drug them over to the curb for pickup, and I did it all without cutting off my leg or falling to my death. And I was happy, and the tree (with it's new short Shannyn Sossamon do) was happy, and there was absolutely no need for exasperated eye rolling and melodramatic hand waving. I may have even found a new calling.

Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Patty says that it's time for my nap.

1 comment:

cndymkr / jean said...

I'm not sure who is funnier, you or your husband.

You: for doing it
Him: for suggesting daycare