|
The Legend of Biddy Early
Hmm. It almost always comes down to it: You're either a witch or a wise woman.
Always reminded her of that riddle, the one about the raven and the writing desk.
What's the difference between a witch and a wise woman?
The last part of the third wall schlucked off her spoon and into place.
A lot of people, in the past few days, had driven past the house, or beginnings of a house to the three-quarters of a house she now had (if you only counted walls in terms of how much of a house you had and neglected to include windows, doors, furniture, and a roof in that valuation) and slowed down, giving her and her task a long, strange look.
Which isn't the most comforting thing, really, to have a load of strangers looking at you, giving you a long, hard appraisal without getting even the slightest explanation. On the second day, when people were really starting to slow down and take a look, after lunch she returned with a small, hand-lettered sign that explained why she was building as she was. Small hand-lettered signs unfortunately only made people slow down more, and the police stopped by and asked her to remove the sign, as it was getting complaints from the neighbours, who claimed that the sign was slowing down traffic to such a degree that they couldn't pull out of their own driveways and you know how people are these days about letting people out into traffic, it's every man or woman for him/herself, really.
Not that any of the neighbours came to talk to her... they just sort of kept their distance, barely responding when she hailed them from the top of the latest wall she was working on.
So the walls, right. The walls were drawing so much attention because of her unusual approach to building. Sure, possibly one that should have been considered before in Man's great checkered past of building buildings, and possibly had been used at some point, probably in Bilbao. Actually, maybe not Bilbao. But some Spanish city, at any rate.
Weetabix. (tm).
It started that one morning, innocently enough, when she poured herself a bowl, in that nice little plastic bowl with the dog at the bottom. And made the mistake of leaving some, just a little, mind you, in the bottom, in the sink. Without it soaking in water.
Common sense and a shared tradition tell you, tell all of us, to soak a bowl of Weetabix(tm) after the contents have been ingested, even if it looks like there isn't any left. Just. In. Case.
Just in case the weety fibres find themselves across the expanse of the bowl, sucking up the last of the milk as they go, until at last they're reunited, like swans, mating for life. But unlike swans they're fibre-based, and there are more than one of them to a coupling, and it is for eternity, not just life.
And so, her favourite dog-bowl ruined and discarded by the side of the house.
And, then, suddenly, one day, some Weetabix(tm) from the trash stored by that very same wall had joined with the stuff outside the house, and then next thing she knew she had a builder in saying the rest of the walls were sort of, like, undermined, you know, by the whole process, and she was going to have to rebuild.
Seeing as she had one good wall, it seemed like a good idea, anyway.
disclaimer:
Biddy Early wasn't quite who we had in mind when we talked about Clare girls in bikinis, but she's a Clare girl, at any rate.
And, of course, this story is probably only tangentially about Biddy Early, herself. Which is remarkably more pertinent to the title than any other issue has been in quite some time, so I suppose it's a special occasion, of sorts.
There is sunshine somewhere, and I intend to bask in it. Quite soon.
PS, if you don't know of either Weetabix (available in the US, as well, just swing by the Clinton, MA factory if you don't believe us) or Biddy Early, that info linked there might help.
|
Yer Weekly Horoscopes.