I live in a condo. There are 72 units.
When you become a condo resident, you give up some freedoms for the good
of the entire association. For example, while we may hang decorations
on our entry doors, we may not hang them beside the door on the siding.
We may put plants on our decks, but we may not hang them on the deck
walls. We each have a little patch of ground outside our entry way
where the builder landscaped. Over time plantings have died or grown too
large for the area. Those items have been removed, often by the unit
owner, and, provided the replacement is under a certain size, we may put
whatever we like in the vacant spaces. Living plants are always
acceptable. Decorative items must be "tasteful."
My next door neighbor has become a great
friend. She is also a "lady." M'lady's a "silk purse." I, often to her
frustration and horror, am more like a "sow's ear." Sometimes I wish to
be more like her; other times, like the one in this story, I prefer not
to be. She is meticulous about her appearance and prides herself in
always dressing appropriately. We joke that her passion is ironing. Her
taste in clothing and furnishings is classic. The colors of her garden
flowers complement her condo's interior. She regards decorative flags
some unit owners hang from their decks as tasteless.
My tale: When I turned 50, my brother gave
me two plastic pink flamingos. Those of you in the US may remember
seeing these popular items proliferating in our or the neighbors' yards
when we were kids. They became so abundant as to become trite. Declasse.
So these were a great nonsense gift for my 50th birthday seven years
ago. I proudly displayed them in my (backyard) garden for several
weeks. And then when we moved to the condo, I tucked them in the attic.
The plan: to bestow them on my brother when he turned 50.
That event is Sunday. Yesterday I brought
the flamingos down to spiff them up, to wash off the yard dirt and dust
that has accumulated. And a GREAT idea came to me! With childlike glee, I
put them in MY garden. Then I sat where I could hear and not be seen
and awaited repercussions.
M'lady's grandchildren were visiting her.
During the afternoon she and the girls came outside and shortly I could
hear a mumble of voices, and the younger child said, "....joke, Nanny?"
I could visualize M'L and the girls, standing at the edge of my garden,
M'L wondering if I had lost all sense of taste as she voiced the opinion, "This has to be a joke."
And then they were gone. I knew that as
the afternoon went on, M'L would fret about how she would tactfully tell
me the birds were ugly, awful and MUST be removed. Her unit was very
quiet ... I knew she was stewing! And, like the sow's ear I am, I was
loving it!
That evening the condo association had a
meeting and she appeared at my door to join me in our walk to the
Clubhouse. As I came out the door, she tilted her head toward the
flamingos and said, "What's this?"
I replied, "Something to make you crazy. Was I successful?"
Lord, I thought she'd never stop laughing
she was so relieved. When we returned last night, I told her I'd take
them in, not because they irritated her, I said, but because I was
afraid someone would take them.
She looked at me incredulously, and said, "Pardon me?!?" And I realized that she figured even thieves have too much taste to steal pink flamingos.
The above story occurred last year. An update:
I did take the flamingos to my brother's
and without being noticed, placed them in his garden beside the back
entry. He didn't see them. His wife did.
She allowed them to remain there less than
a week. (Ungrateful woman!) When my brother brought them back to me, I
noticed they were lying on the floor of the car's backseat and were
covered by a piece of burlap.
When I originally posted this story and
told the readers of the orphaned twins, they were immediately offered a
new home in Texas, to which I promptly sent them. I understand they now
live a privileged life and are treated well.
