David and The Chicken

Well.

This one isn’t the funniest, or the cutest, or the most entertaining, but it’s a story none-the-less. How’s that for a riveting start that makes you want to put the phone down and not read what’s next?

Well.

So y’all know we have a six-foot chicken in the backyard, right? It’s been “man down” more than it’s been upright, but we solved that little problem with some rebar and redneck ingenuity. So all is well in the chicken world once again.

But the chicken seemed a little lonely out in the edge of the green space by itself, and needed a yard buddy. Now, I didn’t necessarily think it needed a chicken compadre necessarily, though they come in varying sizes and colors, and have tempted me many a time while out scouring the earth for other un-needed yard fodder. No, I had in mind procuring something else unique in its own right; something that would make an equal but stand-alone statement. So the eyeballs stayed peeled wherever they went, knowing that just the right – no, perfect – statement piece de resistance would eventually show itself.

And, boy did it.

A few weekends ago The Lawyer and I took a little sidebar to Southwest Florida so he could tell a group of doctors what to do to stay out of the litigation system. He gives a great lecture and sometimes the listeners even respond. They’re a tough crowd, I tell ya, but he wins them over in the end and I get lots of pool time in the sun, so it’s a “win-win” as he likes to say. (He actually HATES that phrase, so of course I use it as often as I possibly can which turns itself into a win-win situation. Lawyering 101)

On our drive back north, Jesus and I had the wheel while somebody napped, and we all decided that we wanted to come the “back way” and avoid the interstate. It’s only 15 or 20 minutes longer to come the back way, there’s absolutely no traffic, and there’s so much more to see along the way. Which naturally brings me to my point. To which I’m sure you’re saying “finally.” If you’re actually still reading, that is.

As we rolled up the road through small towns, the little roadside stores were on full display. Lots of Florida fruit, peanuts, boat stores and such, but the biggest and best are always the yard-art extravaganzas. Everything from concrete picnic tables to bird baths to statues. And that’s when it hit me.

There, beside the highway, in it’s full mini scale model size nakedness, was a statue of David. I could barely believe my eyes. Now, one of us was driving a little quickly so there was no slamming the brakes and making a hard right turn to get in there, plus I think they may have been closed. But that didn’t stop me from running my mouth about it. “Lawyer! They have a midget statue of David!!! We need that!!! Did you see it?!?!”

He just gave me “the look.”

I’ve seen it from him before, of course. My first rodeo saying stupid things this was not. The head tilted downward , the look over the glasses, the pursed lips – it all came together quite succinctly.

And I just laughed.

And I kept driving and now the car’s and my wheels were spinning. This may be my new quest.

We were still probably a couple hours from home and somebody was still dozing. Fortunately it wasn’t me or Jesus. And then it happened again. Another small town roadside store with EVEN MORE concrete yard art to behold. I caught glimpse of it a little earlier this time and let out my exclamation a little sooner so The Lawyer would have a better chance of beholding the glory of it all. I think he may have caught a glimpse of buttcheek.

“Look!” I said. “It’s a sign!!!”

Again, as you can imagine, I got “the look.”

“Why in the @£*+$& do you want a statue of David?!?!?!”

“well,” I began my oral arguments, “for starters, why not? For seconders, you took me to SEE the real statue of David, so why not pay homage to the original?”

“and,” I continued, “the chicken needs company.”

Honestly, I think that’s what won the trial.

Ok, ok, you know better than to think that. The Lawyer was seemingly having no part of this conversation.

Or, was he???

He verbalized a firm “no,” so I kept my little thoughts to myself, but started to concoct a plan. The next time he goes out of town on a two night trip, I’ll head out to find a David and bring it home before he knows what happened and it’ll be done and he won’t be able to say no and it’ll already be in the yard and that’ll be that.

Kinda like how I did the chicken.

That’ll teach him.

Now, this plan means I’ll have to have patience, which we all know is NOT my strongest suit, but I will have to persevere. He doesn’t often pull a two-nighter, so it may be awhile. I asked him when we got home if he knew his travel plans for the week, and he actually did (it’s always iffy) and it was just a one-nighter in Jacksonville. Dang it. Not enough time for me to pull this off.

But it won’t be forgotten.

It was going to be a busy week, busy month, busy everything, so no time to search this out, but definitely tucked safely away in the back pocket. Mine, that is. But little did I know, his, too.

He took off Monday for Jacksonville and I worked like always and stayed up too late because I don’t like lying in bed listening to creepy house noises and dragged myself to work exhausted on Tuesday. Just like always. But what wasn’t just like always was his timeline. His meeting was fairly early in the day and he should be home before my work day was over. But then it got suspicious. He may or may not answer my text, which was not totally sus, as sometimes there are pockets on the interstate where phones don’t work, so I chalked it up to that. But then he was evasive with some of his answers, not clear on his return time, quiet for too long between answers. I was perplexed, but too busy at work to dwell.

We ended up getting home about the same time, and he was bringing things in from the back of his SUV and asked me if I’d go get his carry-on out of the back because his hands were full. Not out of the ordinary at all, I’ve helped him lug stuff in many times, but what I didn’t realize was that as soon as I said “sure,” and walked past him, he stopped to watch me. I walked around the truck, turned to get the suitcase out of the back, and what did my exhausted eyes behold but a four foot concrete statue of David. I was speechless. I looked up to head to the house and there was The Lawyer smiling back.

He’d beat me to the punch and exceeded my expectations once again. I just can’t out-do him.

He’d been vague about his timeline all day because he’d been shopping. He called Abby at his office and told her to drop everything and get busy finding a statue of David somewhere between Jax and home. She did, sent him directions and phone number, and off the highway he went. 30 minutes one way, 30 minutes back, he found the place and came home with a family-friendly, fig leaf over the spicy parts, 4 foot statue of David. I am over the moon.

Except that it weighs four tons. Or 140 pounds. Same difference. And we can’t get it out of the back of the car.

David had to ride around in the back of the SUV for the rest of the week until the sons-in-law came over that weekend and could get him out. It was kinda funny. The Lawyer would send me texts about him and his riding buddy, you know, because it’s the most natural thing to ride around town with a statue of David in your vehicle.

The weekend finally made it’s appearance and it was time for family pizza night and the boys were ready to do some heavy lifting for the old folks. Question of the night was, “so where do you want this …thing?” Well, on the tree stump you guys rolled back here for me last year. (See, we had a tree fall and the tree man sliced it into tree sized slices and part of them were perfect so I asked if he’d take one up to the back yard but he couldn’t get the bobcat back there so he left it on the driveway in front of the barbeque and the sons-in-law rolled that gigantic slice of log to the rock bed in the back yard for me and now it’s a glorious pedestal for David.) I wear myself out.

So the boys placed The David on his new home, angled him just so, and walked away because they were sure they were done. They were not, in fact, done. No, I needed one….more…..thing….

The pear tree in the whiskey barrel needed to be turned/twisted/rotated because it was leaning heavily to the right, desperately reaching for the sun because, well, that’s what trees do. The boys grabbed hold of the barrel, gave her a spin, and walked away because they thought they were done. They were not, in fact, done. No, I needed one…more….thing….

The olive tree also needed a spin in its pot, too, and while I had children who would work for food at my disposal I thought it a prime time to totally take advantage.

So I did.

I have turned into that old woman.

But in my defense, I have a bum elbow, wrist, thumb, and now shoulder, so I’m gonna milk this for all it’s worth. Hopefully they won’t catch on any time soon.

So anyhoo, David. He’s perched atop his pedestal in all his fig leaf glory, butt cheeks perfectly perky, now surrounded by beautiful blooming plants and a bird bath, and the occasional bird hanging out on his head.  Michelangelo would be so proud, of this I am so sure.

So, thank you, Lawyer, for satisfying my every whim. You give me “the look,” but I’m pretty sure it’s just for fun. I adore you….and the chicken and The David.