There’s been this damned spot by the patio where, no matter how hard Carmelo and I try, we haven’t been able to get grass to grow. Obviously, there’s an absence of that miraculous combo of seed and water needed to conjure up any growth. Last month, like a good human being, I concocted an easy way out of this dilemma – why, I’d just cover it with rocks and place some bricks around it as a deigned “no grass” area. But Carmelo – always the soul of patience and judgment – told me to wait a couple of weeks and, if by then we couldn’t get grass to grow, why then he’d help me cover the area with stone.

I wasn’t convinced, but then again, I’m no Johnny Appleseed.

So, a couple of weeks ago, Carmelo shows up with a big grin on his face, a small bag of seed, and a handful of (gasp!) bark mulch (something you very rarely – if ever – see here in the Valley of the Sun). “Keep it moist but don’t drown it”, says he, and I, like the obedient homeowner, obey.

Wouldn’t you know it, today I noticed a healthy new growth of sprouts starting to take over the area. I’ve always known it – which is why I’m not very good at it – but landscaping and gardening require a whole lot of patience: something I’ve never had in ample supply.

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Today was a new chapter in the loony episode I mentioned the other day. Last week, this rejected suitor of my sister-in-law attempted to send – for the third straight day – a huge, gorgeous bouquet of flowers to her and we rejected their delivery. I knew sooner or later that was going to bring some kind of rain, and sure enough, today we not only find a huge arrangement of roses by our front door, but three – count ’em – three! cards containing six-page letters full of insane ramblings of devotion. Most of it was pretty harmless rambling crap, but the line that got my attention was the one where he mentioned having $10K to send flowers every day and to hire a PI to find out where she lives so to more perfectly express his devotion. Yeah, right.

I have to tell you – especially with the goings on down in Tucson a little more than a week ago – I have a pretty low tolerance for (if you’ll excuse the expression) wackos. For some reason my sister-in-law really knows how to attract them, so now we’re going to have to get serious, with restraining orders going out tomorrow.

Y’know, I hate this kind of stuff. Anyone who really knows me knows that, for all my politically conservative bluster, I’m really a live-and-let-live kind of guy. I’ve always ascribed to the idea that if you’re living life on the edge you’re probably taking up too much space. When I came into this world it shrugged, I hope to go out the same way. If I can play some golf with my Goodboy friends, work hard to keep our India operation busy, have a few cocktails on my patio and enjoy some surf and tropical music, and cook some nice meals for Tracey from time to time, that’s not a whole lot to demand. But maybe I’m asking too much – hell, 80% of the world would love to know my existence, and I know it. I take nothing for granted.

So now, between the 60-hour work week and the rabbits and the debt I have to deal with yet another wacko in my sister-in-law’s life. Been there, dopne that. Y’know, there was a time in my life when I truly thought I was called to be an Episcopal priest. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t, but I’d like to think I would have made a damned fine priest if only given the chance. Tonight, I’m thinking my calling is to continually be there to rescue the damsel in distress I’m only half related to from the dragons that constantly surround her. Such is life.

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The pineapple lights on the patio cast a soft pastel light as the soft acoustic surf-rock of The Sandals plays inside (where it smells like a funeral home with all the flower arrangements of the past week). The air is cool – but not too – and I’m looking at that street light that always seems to attract my attention and imagination like some crazy moth. I’ve experienced worse Januarys – weather and otherwise – so for now life is good. But I sure don’t like the way 2011 is starting out.