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Clemmie Greenlee is a force of nature, and I am crazy about her.

I first met her when she was a resident of Magdalene House, which is a women’s program founded by Rev. Becca Stevens that Russ and I have been involved with for almost 10 years. I’m not even going to try to tell her story, because she does it so much better herself– there’s a six part interview with her on YouTube, here’s a link to the first part. Let me just say that she has gone from being a crack-addicted street prostitute to becoming a vocal advocate and organizer for the Nashville Homeless Power Project, and an outreach coordinator for the Peace Campaign of the Galaxy Star Drug Awareness organization. The Nashville Scene chose her as their Nashvillian of the Year for 2007, and you can read that article here. 

But the best part about Clemmie isn’t what she does, it’s who she is. She’s a survivor, an odds-beater, a woman of courage and faith. She is a pint-sized powerhouse, with dancing eyes and one of the best belly laughs I’ve ever heard. I just ran into her yesterday, the first time in a long time, when I was at Thistle Farms, which is Magdalene’s cottage industry for healing bath and body products. I was there to interview Becca Stevens for an upcoming Homecoming Magazine feature, and running into Clemmie was just a happy accident. 

Which brings us to this picture. I cannot believe I am about to unleash this image of myself on the poor unsuspecting internet, but honestly? It was so goofy that I laughed my head off when I saw it and that trumped my vanity. If this is not the classic Nancy Reagan look of adoration, I don’t know what is! I look like Clemmie’s about to give me a dog biscuit. Or I’m about to propose to her. Or lick her face.

Anyway– enjoy! Feel free to make up your own caption!

“Tori Taff, on the left, shown only moments before being served with a restraining order by Ms. Greenlee’s attorney…”

So I have this sweet bird feeder right outside of my bedroom window.

It is tucked behind a hedge and hanging from a black metal shepherd’s crook, so when I am sitting up in my bed I can watch the birds coming and going. I get an inordinate amount of pleasure from this. I’m a cheap date that way– don’t need an ocean view, just give me a WalMart bird feeder on a hook and I’m good.

I have figured out the exact right mix of seeds to attract my favorite kinds of birds, which are chickadees, titmice, cardinals and sparrows. I also enjoy the occasional guest appearance from a towhee or a big fat noisy bluejay. So all has been well here in Tori’s Disney Movie, until this ratty looking grey squirrel with a bad attitude suddenly started showing up and wreaking havoc. 

To the naked eye he looks kind of innocuous and innocent. Just a hungry little squirrel wanting to eat some birdseed…

But I’m no fool. It’s written all over his face. Here’s what’s REALLY going on in his little squirrel brain every time I bang on the window and shoo him away from the feeder–

 

I hate him.

He’s is emptying my feeder faster than I can fill it. The birds are starting to give me scornful looks, they’re all, “Seriously, can’t you do something?” I feel frustrated, ineffectual and may need a support group. I am convinced he is part of a vast grey squirrel conspiracy, and I have reason to believe they are secretly planning a complete takeover.

Behold:

They are NOT kidding around, people–they mean business.

I refuse to be outwitted by a stupid tree rat. Today when I waved my arms and banged on the glass to scare him away for the eleventy hundredth time, I finally lost my temper and shouted, “Ok squirrel, you want a piece of me? This is WAR!”

He oh-so-casually retreated to a tree about 3 feet away, stretched out flat on a branch and just hung there with his creepy little paws dangling in the air. I swear I saw him smirk at me.

Oh make no mistake, my friend– it’s ON.