Conflict Resolution

Jeff Christ has been living in the Sack for almost a year now.

For the most part, he keeps a low profile. He lives with his aunt and uncle, Norma and Ben. Most of his time is spent at his job in a local call centre. It's the same place where Weed is precariously employed.

When Jeff Christ first moved to the Sack, he was waiting to hear about his acceptance into the Canadian Forces. He was hoping to be an Army clerk. His Uncle Ben, of course, is a cook in the Navy. Military service, I'm told, runs in their family.

But when the defining moment came, Jeff Christ turned down the invitation to join the Canadian Forces. He had just secured the position with his current employer. Even though the military offered more money and job security, he elected to stay at the call centre. Ben says Jeff was concerned that he might be deployed to Afghanistan.

He said he didn't think he wanted to risk death at such a young age.

***

According to Weed, Jeff Christ has flourished at the call centre. In a very short period of time, he was promoted to team leader. Now he's being groomed for the next position above this station. Weed says he isn't sure what this position is called. But either way, he says Jeff Christ will be regarded as a Big Kahuna at the call centre.

"This should guarantee me a little bit more job security," he added matter-of-factly.

Weed, of course, admits to a lacklustre approach to his own entry-level position. This hasn't always endeared him to the management of the call centre. So far, however, he's managed to keep himself on the payroll.

Weed says he has great respect for Jeff Christ's rise to stardom at the call centre. He said he would probably make a better effort if Jeff was at the helm of his department. Most of his co-workers feel the same way. Apparently, Jeff Christ treats people with gentle respect. He's also very positive and encouraging.

"The drones dig him, man," said Weed plainly.

***

Shortly after Jeff Christ arrived in the Sack, Weed announced his theory about the young man's true origin. Apparently, Jeff is actually the Messiah or, as Weed likes to describe it, God's kid.

This doesn't mean, of course, that the end days are nigh. Weed believes the Son of God has spent countless human lifetimes on earth. He just lives amongst us in case things start to get out of hand.

"So if the forces of darkness erupt, He's already available to deal with it," Weed explained confidently.

I have no idea about such things.

***

But it's still fortuitous if Weed is correct about Jeff Christ. After all, the Sack is already home to one of the Devil's men. According to Oscar, Rental Doug occupies a senior position in Satan's upper management.

Apparently, Rental Doug is living in a suburban cul-de-sac for the same reason as Jeff Christ. Oscar says he's just waiting for a phone call or email from the Devil, before he leaps into action.

I have no idea about this, either.

***

So far, Jeff Christ has blended quietly into the background of Sack life. He's proven to be an unassuming, helpful and good-natured fellow. Sack kids seem to like him immensely.

But most of the time, he goes about his business almost unnoticed.

Recently, however, Jeff Christ did something quite spectacular. Single-handedly, he resolved a potential conflict between two residents. He did it quietly, creatively and with great skill.

Nevertheless, Weed says Jeff's overt display of goodness still doesn't mean He's ready to reveal Himself.

"Even the Messiah needs to exercise every now and then," he added sagely.

***

About a month ago, Gordon had a very large bone to pick with Little Doug. Bone-picking, of course, is very common in the Sack. Invariably, someone will take offense to another in the midst of cul-de-sac life.

Gordon, in particular, is very good at bone-picking. He's easily offended if someone runs afoul of his expectations of proper suburban decorum. Given the diversity amongst us, it's no surprise he would find so much room for quarrel.

Oscar says Gordon's bone-picking has almost reached legendary proportions. He thinks Gordon could probably qualify as an osteopath by now.

He could be right about this.

***

Little Doug, of course, is a mild-mannered sort. He has a refreshing capacity to see the best in the intentions of others. He's not easily offended. At the same time, he's not one to run afoul of other residents.

Little Doug would never do anything intentionally to harm anyone else.

The only wariness in Little Doug's soul is directed at certain men from the great State of Maine. A number of years ago, his wife shuffled off with a fellow she met online. He was from the great State of Maine. Their subsequent union probably marked the first time Little Doug had a bone to pick with someone.

But even if you hailed from Maine and were prone to online relationships, Little Doug would probably still give you the shirt from his back. Of course, before he started to undo his buttons, he would be a little more cautious than usual.

Aside from this matter, however, Little Doug remains a complete stranger to bone-picking. It's hard to imagine that he could be irksome to someone else.

Nevertheless, Gordon still had a bone to pick with Little Doug.

***

Gordon's ire was sparked by a property-related matter.

He lives in the house beside Little Doug's place. The land between their houses belongs to Little Doug. However, Gordon lays claim to a three-foot strip of land extending from the side of his house. There's an easement that gives him right of access to this area for any repairs or maintenance on his home.

Most Sack residents pay little attention to this side of their property. Unless there's a need for access to it, one's neighbour looks after the entire side yard. Your agent, for example, tends to the grass that abuts Florence's house. She does the same for the space that separates her from Computer Doug's place.

As a result, no one cares too much about what goes in someone's side yard. But Gordon takes a different approach to the three-foot sliver of land beside his house.

He cares for the grass on this land with all the ferocity of a fundamentalist.

***

A month ago, when Gordon was doing his business on this strip of land, here is what he saw on Little Doug's side yard:

~ Two inoperable lawn mowers. One of the mowers was resting on its side.

~ A fourteen-foot ladder lying on the ground. Between the rungs, various weeds and grasses had flourished.

~ Four bags of soil piled on top of each other. The markings on the top bag had been faded by the sun. Little Doug had intended to add the soil to his lawn.

~ A pair of sawhorses. Like the lawn mower, one was lying on its side like a toppled cow.

~ A lime-green golf bag. Apparently, Little Doug had no idea where it came from. Weed, his de facto son-in-law, claims it was abandoned there by young Doo. No one is entirely certain how Doo acquired such an unusual item or why he left it on Little Doug's side yard.

Gordon felt strongly that Little Doug's side yard had become an eyesore. He said it made the Sack look "down at the mouth." He thought Little Doug needed to get off his arse and do something about it.

"Tout de suite," he apparently added, when he discussed the matter with Ben and Norma.

***

Although Gordon had a bone to pick with Little Doug about the affair, he had no intention of raising the matter directly with his neighbour.

Instead, Gordon prefers to approach other Sack residents to complain about the source of his ire. Invariably, the complaint will find its way back to the guilty party. This is how Ben and Norma came to learn about the bone Gordon needed to pick with Little Doug.

Depending on the offending person, such matters will then continue for much longer than necessary. Knowledge of Gordon's ire is often enough to inspire intentional shenanigans by some Sack residents. Oscar, in particular, is very good at prolonging Gordon's suffering in these situations.

But this time, Jeff Christ looked after the problem. He simply made it go away.

***

Aside from the lime-green golf bag, Little Doug had very good reasons for leaving so many items strewn across his side yard.

The first lawn mower malfunctioned back in the middle of May. Little Doug was in the midst of cutting his lawn at the time. He quickly borrowed Oscar's in order to finish the job.

Oscar's lawn mower, of course, hasn't worked for almost three years. He usually borrows Little Doug's mower whenever his lawn becomes unruly. Little Doug is almost always unaware of this. Oscar simply retrieves it from Little Doug's garage. He knows the pass code to open the door.

***

Oscar was quick to allow Little Doug to borrow his lawn mower. He didn't mention that it was inoperable. He was hoping Little Doug would fix it for him.

That's exactly what Little Doug tried to do.

After discovering the problem with Oscar's mower, he began to dismantle it. That's how it ended up on its side. In the midst of this operation, Little Doug was interrupted by Computer Doug. For the fourth consecutive year, a starling's nest had appeared in the air vent protruding from his upstairs bathroom. Could Little Doug remove the nest with his fourteen-foot ladder?

Of course, he could.

***

When Little Doug returned from his nest-removal duties, young Doo was waiting in front of the garage.

Doo had been running his bike across a makeshift ramp set against the curb of the Sack's centre circle. The ramp, unfortunately, was poorly constructed. It was made of thin wood and refused to stay secure against the curb.

Young Doo had been increasingly frustrated by the ramp's performance. Every time he ran his bike across the ramp, it collapsed onto the pavement with a thud. In a fit of pique, Doo finally leapt from his bike and jumped upon the uncooperative piece of lumber. The main part of the ramp was shattered.

So Doo was now in need of a new ramp. Could Little Doug make him a new one?

Of course, he could.

***

Little Doug dropped his fourteen-foot ladder on his side yard and then retrieved the pair of sawhorses from his garage. Then he obtained some wood and a hand saw from the same place. Within twenty minutes, young Doo was the proud owner of a kick-ass bike ramp. He took it awkwardly in his arms and returned to the Sack's centre circle.

Before he left, he said, "Fanks, Mr. Doug."

***

Little Doug was starting to feel discombobulated by this time. He had begun with a simple plan to cut his grass and then spread some soil around. Then he was planning to watch Hogan's Heroes on one of his digital television channels.

Instead, he had spent his time dealing with two malfunctioning lawn mowers, removing an errant starling's nest and then constructing a kick-ass bike ramp.

And now it was almost time for Hogan's Heroes to begin.

***

In the end, Little Doug decided he would watch Hogan's Heroes and then return to his labours.

Unfortunately, he didn't make it back to the side yard. He fell asleep on the couch when the program ended. When he awoke, it was almost time for supper. Like many of Little Doug's projects, the matter of the side yard fell from his radar screen completely.

So that's how Gordon developed a bone to pick with Little Doug.

***

Jeff Christ, of course, saved the day.

Ben mentioned the matter of Gordon's bone-picking over Sunday dinner. Apparently, his nephew said little about the subject at the time. But within a week, Little Doug's side yard was completely clean. Satisfied, Gordon had gone on to find other bones to pick.

Jeff Christ first turned his attention to the two lawn mowers. Before he found employment at the call centre, he worked part-time at Canadian Tire. During the summer months, he worked primarily in the lawn and garden department. This gave him intimate knowledge of lawn mowers.

At first, Little Doug hesitated when Jeff Christ offered to repair the mowers. He's so used to fixing things for others that he wasn't quite sure how to respond to such an offer. But Jeff Christ was gently persistent in his desire to make the repairs.

Little Doug gave Jeff Christ the pass code for his garage door and invited him to use any tools he might need for the job.

***

Jeff Christ repaired the mowers and returned one to Oscar. Then he put Little Doug's fourteen-foot ladder in the garage. He moved the bags of soil, the saw horses and the lime-green golf bag onto Little Doug's driveway.

Then he proceeded to mow Little Doug's side yard. Later, he would tell Little Doug he just wanted to test the newly-repaired unit.

After the grass was cut, Jeff Christ opened the bags of soil and then carefully raked the contents onto the lawn. He placed the empty bags in Little Doug's garbage bin. After putting the mower into the garage, he put the lime-green golf bag over his shoulder and picked up the saw horses.

Then he disappeared back to Ben and Norma's house with these items in tow.

***

A few days later, Jeff Christ returned the sawhorses to Little Doug's garage. Little Doug was thrilled with his newly-functioning lawn mower and his freshly-cut grass. He tried to give Jeff twenty dollars for his trouble.

Jeff Christ wouldn't hear of it.

Nobody really paid any attention to the whereabouts of the lime-green golf bag. One could only assume that Jeff had disposed of it. But several weeks later, your agent made a startling discovery.

After joining Ben on his back deck for a Saturday afternoon libation, I noticed something unique in their leafy rear garden. It was a lime-green golf bag that had been converted into a funky planter. Apparently, Jeff Christ had applied a further coat of lime-green paint and then added a heavy dose of shellac to protect the bag from the elements. A steel rod ran through the body of the bag and held it in place in the ground. Finally, a small clay pot had been inserted into the bag's opening.

A colourful array of annuals now sprouted from the lime-green golf bag.

***

Oscar thought Jeff Christ's actions were certainly admirable. But he didn't think it added further credence to Weed's theory about the young man.

Weed, however, heartily disagreed.

"Not only does the guy resolve one of Gordon's conflicts, but he turned a lime-green golf-bag into a planter," Weed said with enthusiasm. "I can't think of too many people who could pull that off."

Then he added, "We're definitely talking Messiah here, baby."

I have no idea about any of this.

***

Gone Fishin'

There is always something going on in the Sack.

To the outside observer, of course, this may appear to be untrue. Most of the time, it actually looks like there's nothing going on at all. But this is just an illusion.

There is always something going on.

***

It would be impossible for your agent to keep up with the volume of Sack news. Then again, one shouldn't spend too much time at the blogging machine, anyway. One has to make time for living, too.

To keep up with the full body of Sack shenanigans, I would probably need a twin.

***

My twin, of course, would have to be a very co-operative fellow.

First, he would have to reside in the Sack. If it was necessary, he would be welcome to stay with Mrs. Wonders and I. But I'm not crazy about adult family members living together for any significant period. At some point, my twin would have to stand on his own two feet.

That's why he would probably have to buy a house in the Sack.

***

Once my twin was living in the Sack, he would have to be willing to keep his eyes open for shenanigans.

He would have to be agreeable to writing about it, too. This might be a lot to ask. He might not even be interested in such matters. My twin would need to be comfortable with the blogging machine, as well.

He would have to possess typing skills.

***

The more I think about my hypothetical twin, the more I'm certain about one thing. There's no way my twin is going to help out in the delivery of Sack news.

I don't even have a twin, but already I'm having problems with my hypothetical one.

I think I need a vacation.

***

Speaking of vacations, Mrs. Wonders and I are off to Toronto for a spell. In the old town, this is known as "Going Down the Road."

Cul de Sac Blues will return on June 24.

***

Handsome Man

I saw him for the first time about a month ago.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Mrs. Wonders and I were in the car together. We were returning from the local grocery emporium. He was running on the sidewalk of the main road adjacent to the Sack. He was moving with a slow, easy gait.

The man's running shoes looked expensive, yet considerably worn. Despite the cool temperature, he wore a simple, pale-blue T-shirt and baggy, black gym shorts. He was comfortably dressed and certainly no slave to fashion.

Clearly, it wasn't his clothing that made him distinctive to the eye.

***

The running man, however, stood about six feet, three inches tall. Although quite muscular, he was trim in the right places. He had a narrow waist, but his chest was broad and taut. His legs were long and well proportioned.

He had the bearing of a man with physical power and agility.

His skin was deeply tanned. He exuded good health. On his head was a shock of tousled, black hair. It had the appearance of being wild, yet expertly-styled at the same time.

Through a grimace of exertion shone a set of brilliant white teeth.

***

Mrs. Wonders and your agent caught a glimpse of him at almost the same time. We were about half a kilometer from the Sack. He was running toward us on the right side of the road.

"Whoa," said Mrs. Wonders with restrained delight as we passed him. She turned around in her seat to catch another view from the back window.

"Now, that, " I said magnanimously, "was a good-looking man."

***

Several days later, I saw him again. This time he actually ran through the Sack. I was puttering about in the front yard when he ambled around the centre circle. He was wearing the same clothing. But this time, he also wore a pair of discrete headphones and dark, stylish sunglasses.

As he passed, he gave me a slight nod. Then he raised his right hand in a modest, silent greeting. I replied with my trademark peace sign.

But beyond these occasional sightings of the good-looking running man, I didn't give him much thought. Maybe he just blended into my own view of the Sack's landscape.

But then I learned something very interesting. Not only were Sack residents aware of his frequent appearances, but he had quickly attained celebrity status amongst them. In fact, Oscar had already bestowed a moniker upon the man.

"That's Handsome Man," he said calmly, when the matter was raised.

***

The matter of Handsome Man came to full light last Saturday. It was another rare, glorious day in the Sack. The street was a beehive of activity.

Although Sack residents were busy with various outdoor tasks, several simultaneous gatherings had formed. Oscar, Weed, Little Doug and your agent were standing on Computer Doug's driveway. Ben was there, as well.

Computer Doug was showing us the stitches in his mouth. He had gum surgery last week.

Across the street, Mrs. Wonders and Florence were standing with Norma at the foot of her driveway. Marion, Computer Doug's wife was there, too. Behind them, Jeff Christ was carefully washing his Aunt Norma's car.

Jeff Christ, of course, is a very fine fellow.

***

Sack residents don't typically gather around gender lines. None of the women, however, were particularly interested in seeing Computer Doug's stitches.

Mrs. Wonders had already caught a glimpse of the carnage. Norma said she had the same surgery last year and didn't care to be reminded of the experience. Florence said she would rather poke herself in the eye than see mouth stitches. Marion, of course, already had intimate knowledge of her husband's stitches. She said Computer Doug should try having babies, if he wanted something to complain about.

The two gatherings had just been formed when everyone suddenly paused and looked down the cul-de-sac. Sack kids stopped cavorting around the centre circle and turned in the same direction. Later, Oscar would say that even dogs stopped barking at this same moment. I remain doubtful about this.

Everyone's attention, of course, was focused on a figure moving slowly, but steadily up the street. It was Handsome Man.

This time, he was shirtless.

***

It was one thing to see Handsome Man in his usual running attire. But it was quite another thing to see him without a shirt.

His deeply-tanned torso was glistening with sweat. Despite his rather swarthy features, he had only a smattering of hair on his chest. Florence told Mrs. Wonders this was exactly the amount of chest hair one would prefer in a fellow.

The most admirable part of Handsome Man's appearance, however, was his abdominal region. In this area, he was lean, hard and muscular. Oscar said it was exactly the look he was going for during his ill-fated Man Boobs Be Gone exercise regimen.

Computer Doug noted he could probably share some resemblance to Handsome Man's Adonis-like figure if he put his mind to it. Quite frankly, however, he said his mind is usually occupied with other things.

***

Elizabeth was the first person the shirtless Handsome Man passed as he powered up the street.

She was standing at the foot of her driveway with a shovel in her hand. I have no idea what she was doing with the shovel. Philip, her new-old husband was working on the lawn. He was still clear cutting the forest of dandelions in their front yard.

As Handsome Man approached, Elizabeth stood motionless and observed him. After he passed, she studied him from behind for more than a few moments. Then she removed her sunhat and mopped her brow with the back of her sleeve.

It was, after all, a rather hot day.

***

Handsome Man moved ever closer to the gathering of women on Norma's driveway. A hush had fallen over them as he grew near. Each of them was standing with an identical pose. They had their arms crossed in front of them. It was a collective stance of critical appraisal.

It didn't take long for Handsome Man to pass muster. After he ran past, the women remained silent for a few moments. When he was out of earshot, one of them made a remark that caused the others to erupt with laughter.

Later, Mrs. Wonders told me it was Norma who instigated the merriment. After Handsome Man ran by, she said quietly to the others:

"Well, I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers."

Florence, on the other hand, admitted that she wouldn't abide with even Handsome Man eating crackers in bed.

"A bed," she said wisely, "is no place for anyone to eat crackers."

***

Mrs. Wonders said the women thought very highly of Handsome Man's physique.

Norma, for example, said he looked like he had escaped from a romantic novel. She said Handsome Man is the spitting image of a man on a book she has on her bookshelf. If she remembered, she was going to look for it when she got home.

Marion thought Handsome Man was a very fine specimen, too. She wished Computer Doug would look after himself in the same fashion. Computer Doug, of course, did commence a running regime about a year ago. Sadly, he contracted a bad case of jogger's nipple. Apparently his newish running shoes are now sitting forlornly in their hall closet.

Mrs. Wonders also admitted that she made a singular comment herself after Handsome Man ran past.

Her only words were, "Hubba-Hubba."

***

Handsome Man ran around the Sack's centre circle and neared the men's gathering on Computer Doug's driveway. Oscar, Ben, your agent and Computer Doug were leaning against his car. Weed and Little Doug stood facing us with their backs to the road. Neither made an effort to turn around, but each turned his head to watch as Handsome Man approached.

When he came within a few feet of our gathering, Handsome Man looked in our direction and held up his hand in greeting. Everyone nodded politely, except for your agent. I replied again with my trademark peace sign.

As Handsome Man ventured out of the Sack again, he passed one more resident. Doo's mom was cutting her grass with a noisy lawn mower. When she spied his approach, she stopped, but allowed the mower's engine to continue. She stood still with her arms at her sides and simply stared as Handsome Man passed by. Her gaze followed him until he disappeared from view.

Weed said it was a shame that Doo's mom wasn't wearing her trademark sweatshirt. It's the one that says Foxy Lady on the front.

"She would've stopped him in his tracks with that," Weed said confidently. Then he added, "Handsome Man could've replaced Sticky as Doo's new step dad."

***

After Handsome Man disappeared from the Sack, it became evident that everyone had caught their own previous glimpses of the man. Oscar said he had seen him on numerous occasions over the last month. He said they now enjoyed a firm waving relationship. In fact, he claimed that Handsome Man's most recent wave was directed primarily at him.

"That's what handsome men do," he said evenly.

Oscar went on to explain that good-looking people have an unspoken code. It would be arrogant to openly discuss their attractiveness. Therefore, they use silent means to communicate their awareness of the matter.

Both Little Doug and Computer Doug immediately interjected at this point. Each had received a discrete wave or two from Handsome Man in recent weeks. Your agent, of course, noted his own experience of the same.

"Yeah, he was probably just being polite," Oscar replied coolly. "That's another thing handsome men do."

***

Ben, on the other hand, had been rather mute about the whole affair until this point. He said runners tend to come and go as far as the Sack is concerned. Handsome Man will either change his route or simply give up on running as a form of exercise. Sack residents, he observed, won't even remember the man after that.

"There's no point in getting your knickers in a knot about this stuff," he said philosophically.

Oscar disagreed. He raised the example of Puff Daddy, an older gentleman who ambles through the Sack with some regularity.

Puff Daddy is a portly fellow in his sixties. His face is always beet-red with exertion and covered in a feverish sweat. His gait is a curious mix of running and walking. He takes short, painful steps as he moves through the Sack. His breath comes in short, furious gasps, as if each one might be his last.

Oscar, of course, came up the older man's moniker. Since Oscar allegedly works from home, he sees him with the most frequency. Puff Daddy's appearances have always made him uncomfortable. He's afraid that the man will collapse in the Sack one day and he'll have to deal with the matter.

Whenever he sees Puffy Daddy struggling past, Oscar is reminded of the need to take a first aid course.

***

The final word on Handsome Man came from Weed.

Like Ben, he had been rather quiet about the matter. Now, he pointed out that Handsome Man's presence in the Sack could only be a positive thing. He said if there was ever any trouble in the Sack and Handsome Man was nearby, we could probably depend on his capable assistance.

"Handsome Man," Weed declared, "is our very own super hero."

"And what's his super power, then?" asked Computer Doug.

"That's easy," Weed replied. "He can disarm the bad guys with good looks alone."

***

Great Gusto

Weed says "gusto" is one of his favourite words in the English language. He likes the way it sounds. In fact, he claims a strong affinity for any English word that ends in "o," providing, of course, it's preceded by a consonant.

"Gecko, jello, boffo, presto. . . .," he said pointedly. "Those are fun words."

While Weed is a big fan of "gusto," it isn't a word he would ever want associated with himself. He said he has made a concerted effort to avoid doing anything with gusto during his entire adult life.

"I'm a half-throttle kind of guy," he told me on the Wonders' porch this week. He said he knew he could go "full throttle" if he wanted. But so far, he hadn't found anything to warrant it.

"I'll give it the gusto when I've got to," he said with a smile.

***

It's show time in the Sack.

Summer is quickly approaching. Lawns must be dusted off and prepared for the season. Gardens will be awakened and encouraged to bloom. There will be pruning to be done.

Various outdoor painting projects will also await. Perhaps the back deck will require a new coat of stain. Maybe the driveway needs a new layer of black sealant.

It's the time of year when the Sack puts on its lipstick.

***

Creating a pleasant and well-maintained exterior is important to most Sack residents. Of course, some people take the matter far more seriously than others. Gordon and Big Doug, for example, take the measure of a man by the appearance of his home. In their eyes, it's a matter of character, pride and civic responsibility.

But the majority expend as much energy on outdoor work as brings them pleasure. For some, this might involve a lot of effort, while for others, it means very little.

So, as the summer approaches, the increasing tempo of lawn and garden activities becomes obvious. Sack residents start building toward an imaginary Opening Day when their homes will be declared ready for presentation to the world.

Oscar calls this "the silly season." He could be right about this.

***

Spring in the Sack has been largely cold and damp. It has been a late start for gardening, lawn care and other maintenance. Last weekend, however, brought the promise of better things to come. It was sunny and hot on Saturday and decidedly pleasant on Sunday.

As usual, Gordon has been well ahead of the pack when it comes to the exterior of his home. Despite the cool spring, his lawn looks healthy and manicured. Some of his perennials have started to bloom. A fresh coat of white paint has already been applied to his front porch.

Nevertheless, Gordon was still a busy man on Saturday. At seven-thirty in the morning, he was sweeping his driveway. By nine o'clock, he was atop a stepladder, washing his windows. Then, just after eleven o'clock, he wielded an annoying gas-powered trimmer to tidy the edges of his lawn.

Gordon, as Weed noted, was working on his property with great gusto.

***

In the early afternoon, Oscar, Weed and your agent reclined on the Wonders' front porch. Baby Doug was also present, but he was sleeping in his stroller. We had just returned with a take-out order from the local coffee cathedral. The day's humidity simply demanded a round of iced cappuccino.

As we loitered on the porch, Gordon emerged from his house. He gave us a friendly salute and then departed from the Sack in his raspberry-coloured SUV. Oscar said he would bet one of his kidneys that Gordon was off to the local home improvement centre.

While Gordon was gone, our attention was drawn to Big Doug. He was standing in the centre of his lawn with his hands on his hips. His eyes were drawn to an area of grass directly in front of him.

He was in the midst of a major lawn crisis.

***

Since his arrival in the Sack about ten years ago, Big Doug has been the sole winner of the Sack's best lawn award. This honour is awarded by Oscar, Weed and your agent. There is no actual prize, nor is the winner aware of his victory. Nevertheless, Big Doug has been the perennial champion.

Big Doug's lawn is cut perfectly to an even three inches. It's a deep, consistent shade of green. It's almost like a plush carpet. If you're going to walk across it, you'll feel a vague desire to take your shoes off first.

Weed says there's a good chance that angels live on Big Doug's lawn. I have no idea about this. Oscar, on the other hand, attributes the lawn's superior appearance to Big Doug's use of nuclear waste as a fertilizer. I have no idea about this, either.

On Saturday, however, one thing was abundantly clear: Big Doug's defence of his lawn title was suddenly in a precarious position.

***

Almost overnight, a two-metre square patch of dead grass appeared in the middle of Big Doug's lawn. Nothing of the sort has ever happened before.

Big Doug was now standing over the patch with his arms folded across his chest. Occasionally, he scratched his chin. From the viewpoint of the Wonders' porch, he looked like he was talking to himself. Oscar said it was the first time he had ever seen Big Doug look uncertain about something.

Eventually, Big Doug disappeared into his garage for a few minutes. He returned with some digging implements balanced across a wheelbarrow. Then he started to dig out the offensive dead grass. When this was done, he carefully raked the soil that remained.

"He's going to reseed it," said Weed.

"Naw," replied Oscar, "he's gonna resod it."

"Reseed," Weed answered quickly.

"Resod," said Oscar.

Thankfully, Baby Doug suddenly emerged from a deep sleep and sneezed violently. A bubble of mucus imploded across his face. Weed had to withdraw from this highbrow debate to wipe the little tyke's nose and mouth.

By this time, Big Doug had left the Sack in his pick-up truck. The local home improvement centre was clearly on his agenda, too.

***

Moments after Big Doug's departure, Gordon returned to the Sack. He unloaded several bags of soil, some plants and a large plastic bag from the back of his SUV. Oscar says Weed now owes him a kidney.

Leaving the soil and the plants on the driveway, Gordon sat down on his porch steps and peered into the plastic bag. Then he retrieved a number of small boxes from it.

Gordon, it seemed, had bought himself some solar garden lights.

***

The solar lights might seem like a reasonable purchase for an ordinary homeowner. But Gordon is no ordinary suburban man. He already owns a multitude of solar garden lights. His property is littered with them. Weed says Gordon has the largest collection of solar garden lights in the entire Western Hemisphere.

"It could be the biggest collection in the world," he added, "but I don't really know anything about the other hemispheres."

Oscar, on the other hand, claimed to have good knowledge of the Earth's other hemispheres. By a wide margin, he said the Western one remains his favourite.

Unfortunately, Baby Doug had no opinion on the matter.

***

Gordon assembled his newest solar garden lights. Then he started to place them carefully along the side of his driveway.

Oscar says Gordon now is drawing enough solar energy to his lawn to power the entire cul-de-sac. He could be right about this.

Weed, however, said it was hard not to be impressed by the orderliness of Gordon's solar lights. Each light is spaced evenly apart from the others, marking the perimeter of his yard and lining a path leading toward his back deck. At night, Weed said it looks like Gordon has constructed a landing strip for alien spacecraft.

Oscar, of course, thought this was preposterous. Any aliens landing in Gordon's yard, he said emphatically, would have to be the size of a red squirrel.

"That's correct," Weed replied. "Gordon's yard is a landing strip for squirrel-sized aliens."

Oscar and Weed began to debate the possibility of squirrel-sized aliens. Weed accused Oscar of being "alienist" for the irrational belief that extraterrestrial beings would be the same size as humans. Oscar said he was just being a "realist."

Thankfully, Baby Doug came to the rescue again. Feeling the need for some nutrition, he began to bawl with great gusto. Weed retrieved a baby bottle filled with apple juice from a pouch at the back of the stroller. The alien debate quickly came to an end.

That's also when Big Doug returned to the Sack in his pick-up truck. In the back was a small load of new sod.

"Told ya," said Oscar smugly.

***

It didn't take long for Big Doug to fit the new sod onto the gaping hole in his once-perfect lawn. When he was finished, he stood back to inspect his work. Then he retrieved a garden hose and began to sprinkle water gently on the new sod.

After carefully respooling the hose, Big Doug circled the repair area with his arms folded. At one point, he squatted to the ground and peered at the new grass intently. He was rubbing his chin the whole time.

Finally, he walked away from the lawn, pausing once to look back at the new sod. Then he began to wash his truck with great gusto.

***

No one could think of a good reason for Big Doug's lawn woes. There's no way he could've caused it himself accidently. He's too methodical to do such a thing.

Oscar said the dead grass could've been caused by a local dog who somehow gained access to Big Doug's lawn without detection. Weed snorted at this. He said the dog would have to be the size of a moose to urinate on such a large area of grass.

"Okay," Oscar replied, "maybe it was a moose."

A new debate raged over the possibility of a moose visit to the Sack. Oscar said it was entirely possible for a moose to venture into the cul-de-sac from the substantial lake and woods accessible from just across the road. Weed said Gordon would have picked up the moose on the webcam in his front window. He said Gordon surely would've called for military intervention by now.

"Maybe a squirrel-sized alien landed on that spot," Oscar suddenly said sarcastically. "It landed vertically on Big Doug's lawn instead of using Gordon's landing strip."

"Now, you're just talking foolish," said Weed.

Once again, Baby Doug provided a timely interruption of the debate. Sitting happily in his stroller, his face was suddenly set with intense concentration. He was pooping with great gusto.

"Aw, poop," said Weed and began to look in the back of the stroller for a diaper.

***

Big Doug wasn't the only one with lawn woes as the Sack's frenzied summer makeover continued.

Elizabeth and her husband, Philip were standing forlornly in the middle of their lawn. Philip was dressed like a country squire. He wore a blue English flat cap, a crisp, white, short-sleeved dress shirt and pair of dark brown slacks. He also had a pair of rugged hiking boots on his feet.

Elizabeth was in her typical gardening attire. She wore a pair of stiff blue jeans and a flowered smock. She had pink Crocs on her feet. A floppy, bright-yellow hat was covering her head.

Last year, Elizabeth replaced her old lawn with new sod. She paid a lot of money for the job by a local landscaping outfit. Sadly, the new sod has been a bust. Philip and Elizabeth were standing amidst a forest of dandelions and weeds.

***

Philip, of course, recently returned to his spouse's welcoming arms. He had sufficiently recovered from a nasty gambling addiction and a damaging case of infidelity. They had been divorced for more than four years.

Elizabeth now has someone to share these moments of suburban woe. She has an ally or comrade-at-arms to call upon. Her lawn problems are also Philip's lawn problems now.

Elizabeth has tried in vain to get her money back for the crappy lawn. She told the company she wanted them to take the lawn back and refund her money. Apparently, the company said they were not in the habit of accepting returned lawns. Nor, unfortunately, were they prepared to refund her money.

Now Philip is pledging to take the company to small claims court.

***

Either way, this legal initiative could do nothing to resolve the more immediate problem. What were they going to do about their forest of dandelions?

After looking dejectedly at the lawn with Philip, Elizabeth seemed to come up with a plan. She disappeared into her back yard and returned with a weeding utensil and a large bucket. She placed these in Philip's hands and then retired to the backyard to tend to her garden.

Philip stood on the lawn for a long time gazing at the dandelions. He didn't seem to know where to start.

***

Eventually, Phillip moved to the top of the lawn and began to remove dandelions with great gusto. The sun was now prominent in the sky and a dense heat descended on the Sack. Every now and then Philip would stop and remove his cap. Then he would wipe his bald pate with a handkerchief.

Weed says Philip is the first person he's ever known to carry a handkerchief in his pocket. He said he's considering adopting the practice himself.

Phillip continued to toil on the dandelions. Occasionally, he would stop and check on his progress. Oscar said it would probably take about four hours for the entire lawn to be cleared of the dandelions. Weed disagreed. He said it would take at least eight hours. Another mock dispute erupted.

Unfortunately, Baby Doug had gone back to sleep. One can only assume that he was dreaming with great gusto.

***

The most surprising beautification efforts of this year's silly season occurred at Burning Manor.

Historically, Dirk and Dora have paid very little attention to their property. Last year, Dora stuck some annuals haphazardly on the corner of the front lawn. Then Dirk placed a line of solar lights on one side of the driveway.

Unfortunately, these initiatives proved unsuccessful. Dora ran over the solar lights with the car and the flowers died quickly from inattention. The only decorative feature that remained in front of Burning Manor was an old tree stump that Dirk placed near the front entry. Even the new lawn they received after the great fire looks like a desert now.

But the denizens of Burning Manor are not the kind of people to give up easily.

***

On the previous weekend, Dora and her younger sister, Dixie drove into the Sack together. They were in Dixie's ancient Ford Fiesta, the same vehicle Philip dented while backing out of his driveway. The dent is still prominent on the passenger's door.

After parking in the driveway, Dora and Dixie removed a number of items from the car. There were two hanging flower baskets and two planters for display beside the front door. Mrs. Wonders tells me these items would've been quite expensive. It was an impressive display of colourful flowers and wild grasses.

For about forty-eight hours, the front porch of Burning Manor actually looked somewhat inviting.

***

On the following Monday, it was blustery and cold. The evening forecast called for overnight frost. As your agent and Mrs. Wonders drove into the Sack, Mrs. Wonders noted the array of flowers still on Burning Manor's porch.

"Those will be dead by tomorrow, if they don't bring that stuff inside tonight," she said sagely.

On Saturday, as we continued to relax on the front porch, it was evident that Mrs. Wonders had been correct in her prophecy. The hanging baskets were almost invisible under the wilted stems of flowers and grass. The containers on the ground were filled with drooping and discoloured foliage. Oscar said the dead flowers made Burning Manor look like a haunted house.

As we studied this floral carnage from across the street, Dora suddenly emerged from the house. She was carrying a plastic milk carton. She started to pour water on the dead plants in the containers. Then she returned to the house for a moment. She reappeared with a folding chair.

Dora was going to water the dead flowers in the hanging baskets, too.

***

Standing on the folding chair, Dora poured water awkwardly into the first basket. As started to do the same for the second one, she suddenly lost her balance. She grasped the wall of the house for leverage, but the chair slowly started to collapse under her feet.

Dora tumbled to the floor of the porch in slow motion. She stood up quickly and then cursed. Then she looked around to see if anyone had witnessed her misfortune.

Instinctively, we averted her gaze in our direction. No one spoke as we shifted our attention toward Big Doug's house. He was still washing his truck.

Dora quickly grabbed the chair and disappeared into the house. Oscar and Weed erupted with laughter. Oscar said it was the best mishap in the Sack since Little Doug last fell off a ladder.

Baby Doug, however, was startled by the sudden laughter. He awoke from his slumber and looked about in surprise. Then a wide smile broke across his little face.

As our collective attention focused on him, he started chuckling with great gusto.

***