Where Did that Tree Come From?

They said it couldn't be done! I've had a few brushes with my orange Saturn Vue, but not because I collided with the two trees in the middle of my driveway. I wasn't feeling so hot when we decided to move to Scottsdale--depression had surfaced, and my concentration rivaled a three-year-old's--so I decided to minimize my losses by going for location, location, location. And Scottsdale is, as any snotty Arizonan can tell you, prime real estate. Yesiree, it is! So I figured I had done my job of selecting a house just by picking out the neighborhood. The rest I left up to my husband and fate. So what if an extra room in one house could only be accessed via a steep 20-step staircase? There was a gorgeous jacaranda tree in front (it blooms for at least 20 minutes every year). That more than made up for any knee or hip injury climbing up and down. Then there was the house that kept getting larger every time you walked through it. Did I really need three spare rooms for the maid, the cook, and the butler? Like that was gonna happen anytime soon!! Which is why I ended up with a unique driveway. I settled. Besides I like a challenge. No one I know has trees in their driveway so that means I get the award for bravery. They--the trees, that is--guarantee that I'm never drunk when pulling into my garage. I never have to worry about ramming my side mirror because I'm going verrry slowwwly so as not to scrape my beloved trees. The trees also are guaranteed nests for colorful singers who decorate our driveway with gunk you wouldn't want your worst enemy to step in. Still, somehow a driveway with two trees that whirl and swirl during monsoons and drop their leaves during a hard frost is appropriate for a dysfunctional kid from a dysfunctional family. What do you think?

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The Dysfunctional Family

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