case of the ex

After my tutoring session last night, my student's grandmother shared a delightful anecdote about her past. We were discussing names, and she told me that when she was pregnant with her only child, her late husband was adamant about naming the baby *Alex, regardless of the baby's gender. His reason was that it was the name of his high school sweetheart. Being young and easygoing, she agreed and named their daughter *Alex. Looking back, she found it a bit peculiar. She chuckled and shook her head in disbelief as she recounted the story. After 40 years, all you can do is laugh about it. I couldn't help but joke, "Well, at least whenever you're annoyed with your daughter, you have an extra reason to frown at her name."

Her story made me reconsider my thoughts on exes. Strangely, I have a knack for getting along famously with my boyfriends' ex-girlfriends. I suppose the ex and I share a key trait: our impeccable taste in men (or at least one man). In fact, one of my close friends is my high school boyfriend's ex. I met her after we started dating. I ditched the boy but kept the friendship with his former flame. Our bond only grew stronger as my relationship with him waned, given that we both ended up aiming darts at the same photograph.

I've connected with most of the exes, shared some profound and meaningful conversations with a few, but there's always that slight awkwardness that a half-smile or soft cough couldn't quite cover. It's not enough to make us act like total strangers, but just enough to serve as a subtle reminder of our shared history.

home beautification

This afternoon, I was watering my mum's two guava trees and noticed that they were still alive and much happier in this cool weather. I could see the birds dancing around them, so I devised a plan to keep the birds off. I assigned Chino, my dog, to be our official security guard. He loves to chase birds away from our yard, likely because he's territorial.

The birds usually fly and land on the tree as refuge from him. I once caught Chino trying to climb the guava tree. I don't think he understands that dogs cannot climb trees. But with his presence, the birds are too scared to peck at the fruits. Being the angel that my mother was, she insisted on leaving food out for the birds. After some intricate and complicated physics work, I was able to calculate how high to place the bird feeder so that it would be impossible for Chino to jump from the ground to the feeder without a serious concussion. Thankfully, my dog is a mathematical creature, as he hasn't broken any limbs. My plan is working like a charm because the guava trees seem healthier and the birds are whistling outside my window as I type.

While in our backyard, I saw three elaborate spider webs on our fence. The patterns were gorgeous and probably took those little spiders hours to create. So, I went inside, grabbed my Raid can, and sprayed all three. I hate spiders. The webs were not ruined (can't say the same for the spiders), and in fact, the glistening whiteness of the toxic spray left them looking very distinguished in the afternoon sun. I think the spiders were secretly pleased with the free touch of home beautification I supplied, though they were apparently too busy choking to death on the poison to truly express their gratitude.