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elionwyr“Hey. What’s that lady carrying? Is that a baseball bat?
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elfowls_nest glanced over at the woman I was watching walk down the side of the road we travel during our morning commute. “I think it’s an axe handle.”
“Well. My goodness. I wonder why?”
“Dog protection?”
I thought about the men I’ve seen in the rougher areas of Philadelphia carrying pipes either in their hands in a similar fashion or attached by a chain to their belts. “Or..something, yeah. Interesting. Wouldn’t expect to see that on this side of the state.”
Most mornings, we see this lady, axe handle in hand, walking purposefully along. We’ve contemplating buying her a new axe handle and leaving it ahead of her, decorated with a huge red ribbon, to see what she would do.
On the other side of the street, there is often – we don’t look enough to see if it’s always there – a saucepan sitting just out of traffic’s reach. Is it saving a parking spot? Is it some sort of political statement? Is there a connection between it and Axe Handle Lady? Do we need a better hobby than to question what’s going on along this strip of Frankstown Road? You be the judge.
Today was the first time in quite a while we’ve not seen her.
“Maybe she’s on vacation.”
“Do you think she took the axe handle?”
“Well, I hope so, poor thing.”
And so – because I have the attention span of a gnat today – I am envisioning two beach lounge chairs somewhere in Bermuda, one occupied by a finally relaxing lady, and the other barely filled by the hickory textured length of the lady’s constant traveling companion.
I hope she buys it a margarita.
elfowls_nest glanced over at the woman I was watching walk down the side of the road we travel during our morning commute. “I think it’s an axe handle.”“Well. My goodness. I wonder why?”
“Dog protection?”
I thought about the men I’ve seen in the rougher areas of Philadelphia carrying pipes either in their hands in a similar fashion or attached by a chain to their belts. “Or..something, yeah. Interesting. Wouldn’t expect to see that on this side of the state.”
Most mornings, we see this lady, axe handle in hand, walking purposefully along. We’ve contemplating buying her a new axe handle and leaving it ahead of her, decorated with a huge red ribbon, to see what she would do.
On the other side of the street, there is often – we don’t look enough to see if it’s always there – a saucepan sitting just out of traffic’s reach. Is it saving a parking spot? Is it some sort of political statement? Is there a connection between it and Axe Handle Lady? Do we need a better hobby than to question what’s going on along this strip of Frankstown Road? You be the judge.
Today was the first time in quite a while we’ve not seen her.
“Maybe she’s on vacation.”
“Do you think she took the axe handle?”
“Well, I hope so, poor thing.”
And so – because I have the attention span of a gnat today – I am envisioning two beach lounge chairs somewhere in Bermuda, one occupied by a finally relaxing lady, and the other barely filled by the hickory textured length of the lady’s constant traveling companion.
I hope she buys it a margarita.
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Date: 2011-07-18 06:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-18 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-18 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-22 04:11 pm (UTC)