As winds come whispering lightly from the West

50 mph winds blasted through the valley yesterday.

I had the windows down as I drove home and found the wind would actually snatch away my breath.

On my way to class, my car was almost hit by a Christmas tree complete with tinsel.

I know, a Christmas tree in April! What kind of person would keep their Christmas tree months after the holiday?

Um, us. We're the kind of people who keep their Christmas tree months after the holiday has past.

While my parents were visiting, my dad kept propping our tree up in the backyard. After it fell over for the third time, he used wire to hold it in place.

The winds knocked it down yesterday. But it's just as well, the heat we've had recently finally turned the tree brown and ugly.

You may be asking yourself why we haven't gotten rid of it yet. The reason is simple.

We're lazy.

Coupled with the fact that the city's spring clean-up in just around the corner, there is no reason that we should have to drive our tree to the recycle facility ourselves.

I love spring clean-up. It's such an interesting phenomenon.

In our town, the city will pick up up to a dump-truck full of garbage for free, once a year.

They allow us two weeks to start piling our junk out on the street. Then they come scoop it up and haul it away.

But not before the garbage pickers get done with it.

For those two weeks, tweekermobiles slowly creep along the streets while they scour the piles of refuse seeking anything of value.

Sometimes there is stuff that is worth taking.

Bill and I used to check out other people's piles (Don't say, "Check out other people's piles"), but I have enacted a strictly enforced rule against scavenging other people's junk.

We've got our own junk. We don't need other people's junk, too.

And, boy, does it feel good to haul our junk out to the curb knowing that it will get picked up by the tweakers or the city dump trucks. All I care about is that it's gone.

See, our backyard is a waste land. Dirt, leaves, Mar's plastic toys. I hate it.

I never spend anytime out there (we are truly white trashies who spend all their time hanging out in the front yard). So we can keep junk out there and it really doesn't do much to mess up the aesthetic.

Our "garage" (the word "garage" must be in quotes, because it's really a run-down shack and nothing like an actual garage) is full up with cardboard boxes left over from Christmas.

Soon they will be adorning our front curb, along with our Christmas tree.

I'm not just a white trashie, I'm the queen of white trashies. Bow down to me in your stained wife beater and cutoffs.