Beetle desperation

I see by the morning paper that our own Donna Deshon may appear as a walk-on during a "Desperate Housewives" segment. Apparently, "Good Morning America" is going to announce their finalists today for a contest to determine America's most "Desperate Fan." Donna's one of them. The article did not state the date, but sometime in the future she'll fly to New York, compliments of GMA and compete for the title.

Donna entered the contest and had her daughter help her produce a 2-minute video, depicting why she's such a desperate fan. She learned yesterday morning when some TV crews camped out on her doorstep of her finalist status. Good luck to Donna as she moves onward and upward toward this distinctive honor.

Now, I'm kinda disappointed that I didn't know about this opportunity. Guess I'll have to tune in to GMA more often. I think I could have provided Donna and the other finalists some good competition. My two-minute video would have included the following scenario: when the steamy stuff was happening, Bill would be out in the woods examining a bark beetle infestation.

I'd be initiating the illicit affair right here in my house right here at my computer. Of course, I'd use my ties to Viggo. I'd write him an email and invite him to come to my house next time he's in town. In upcoming video scenes, Viggo would roll into the driveway in that big truck he uses whenever he comes to town. He'd step out of his truck, barefooted, as I opened the back door to greet him.

Spotting those naked feet, I'd remind him that it might be a good idea to step into his boots, because, after all, when we were done mowing the lawn----he'd use the push mower around the tight spots while I'd putz along on my riding mower---we'd be cleaning the barn, getting it ready for the winter hay. Then, and only then, would we saddle up Rambo and Casey. I'd give him Casey to ride because Rambo, of course, is blind.

We'd mount up and head across the field south of the house and shake our heads while watching leer jets take off from the airport next door. Then, we'd jog carefully through the wetlands back to the barn, give the horses some oats and head out to commiserate at some of the area hotspots. First, we'd go to the Hoot Owl where he'd eat biscuits and gravy while I'd sit across from him transfixed by those magnetic blue eyes and taking care not to embarrass him by commenting if he accidentally slops some gravy on his stubble.

Then, we'd probably hike the Mickinnick Trail and stop at one of the openings to look out over the valley of sprawl. That film segment in the forest would give me an opportunity to look deep into those eyes and explain to him how much I hate bark beetles and how they've consumed my husband's life. I don't think there are any infestations up there on the Mickinnick, but I could explain to Viggo what the little critters do to trees and to marriages. I'm sure he'd understand, once he knows more about bark beetles.

By that time, we'd be heading back down the trail and planning our grand finale for this tryst. We'd climb in his pickup and head for downtown Sandpoint where I'd convince Viggo it would be okay to be seen walking the streets with me. Once all my friends had passed by and gasped at the shock of seeing Clodhopper Marianne walking side by side with Viggo, I'd be satisfied. Viggo would go his way; I'd go mine, knowing that when I arrived home, Bill would be sharing with me the latest bark beetle sighting.

Whaddya think? Does this scenario indicate any hints of desperation? Maybe my contest video will be even more effective if I splice in a shot or two of Bill studying the beetles as they do their dirty work on the pine trees.