Twisting by the pool

by anna at 12:00 AM on April 24, 2003

For many of us who don't have a loved-one stationed in Iraq, the war is swiftly fading from memory. As is the contentious brouhaha it engendered. And even though Osama and Saddam's whereabouts remain a mystery, our government has seen fit to downgrade the terror threat to yellow. Isn't it strange how the threat matrix has become an ubiquitous aspect of our lives?

On the home front, this past winter couldn't have been more desultory. War talk dominated the news. Over my son's strenuous objections, our TV remained glued to CNN's droning heads. Showdown with Iraq, War in Iraq, The New Iraq and so forth. We suffered through two crippling snowstorms and a flood in our basement. Our agent warned that to file a claim would be to get dropped like an aging Hollywood wife by Allstate. My stepdaughter disappeared for months. We were worried sick about her.

Whoever dubbed the holiday season the most wonderful time of the year must have been licking too many hallucinogenic toads. Cranky shoppers crowd overheated malls in search of gifts no one will appreciate. The weather is always frigid and miserable. Bratty kids are off from school and demand entertainment.

Summer's no better. It's too damn hot so we barricade ourselves inside hermetically sealed homes with the AC cranked. I enroll my son in a series of expensive camps he hates, lest he complain of boredom and loneliness. Vacations never live up to artificially inflated expectations.

Fall usually isn't so bad, but that wasn't the case this year. We Washingtonians were besieged by snipers. Sniper experts crawled out of the woodwork to offer up strategies for avoidance of getting murdered at random as you made your daily rounds. I pumped gas at a murder site, where I noted an odd-looking stain I chalked up to an oil leak. It was an uneasy, almost surreal tie. Soccer was cancelled due to security concerns.

But like the war, that's all over now. Spring has arrived and I for one am majorly psyched. The TV is once again tuned to Cartoon Network. My stepdaughter resurfaced unscathed if a tad worse for the wear and tear. She has found not only a job but an apartment. She even made a rare daytime appearance so that we might buy her a new work wardrobe. Said snipers are jailed down the street. Soccer season is set to commence. And I've been able to sleep with the windows open, which I love.

Our yard is blanketed in hot pink leaves from the crabapple tree. Azaleas are in full bloom. Flowers are peaking shyly from the ground, though not where we planted them. A nesting pair of wrens has taken up residence in our dryer vent. Every time we turn it on they start squawking in protest.

Skimpy halter tops, sundresses and wife-beater t-shirts have made their first appearance. Sing hallelujah! Here's to spring 2003 and the long-overdue renewal of spirit we all hope it brings.

Now if I could just get my damn mower to start before the Lawn Nazi pays me a visit. Just like last year, he'll darken my doorway offering up the lawn-mowing services of his son. He'll segue into his standard War on Dandelions lecture, wich includes my sacred suburban duty to participate in it. I'll politely decline and shut the door. Ah, the rituals of spring.