Woody Woodpecker Quotes

I want to tell Caz – also a redhead – that I have finally found her another role model, aside from Woody Woodpecker, and Annie in Annie.

On my hands and knees I watch the headboard creep closer to my face, knowing I'll probably ram into it soon. Not that it would slow Woody Woodpecker back there down.

All winter she has struggled to describe the joy of her life’s work and the discoveries that have solidified in a few short years: how trees talk to one another, over the air and underground. How they care and feed each other, orchestrating shared behaviors through the networked soil. How they build immune systems as wide as a forest. She spends a chapter detailing how a dead log gives life to countless other species. Remove the snag and kill the woodpecker who keeps in check the weevils that would kill the other trees. She describes the drupes and racemes, panicles and involucres that a person could walk past for a lifetime and never notice. She tells how the woody-coned alders harvest gold. How an inch-high pecan might have six feet of root. How the inner bark of birches can feed the starving. How one hop hornbeam catkin holds several million grains of pollen. How indigenous fishermen use crushed walnut leaves to stun and catch fish. How poplars clean soils of chlorinated solvents and willows remove heavy metals. She lays out how fungal hyphae—countless miles of filaments folded up in every spoon of soil—coax open tree roots and tap into them. How the wired-up fungi feed the tree minerals. How the tree pays for these nutrients with sugars, which the fungi can’t make.

Fair enough. How’s it going with Mr. Reed?” “Fine.” He chuckles. “That’s all I get? Fine?” He laughs out loud. “Seriously?” “He made me dinner.” I can almost hear his smile through the phone. “Well, that was nice.” “We talked.” “And?” “Then his old girlfriend showed up, and we didn’t talk anymore.” He whistles. “Well, that wasn’t what I expected.” I hear him inhale and exhale. “Where is he now?” “Watching TV, I think.” “Let me talk to him.” “Me-li-o,” I whine. “Go get him. I have dad business to discuss with him. You wouldn’t understand.” I get up and go to the door. Sam is sitting on the couch watching the end of the cook-off show. He pauses it when I walk up. “Melio wants to talk you. Would you mind?” He holds out his hand and takes my phone, lifting it gently to his ear. He’s wary of my phone. That’s funny. “Yes, sir,” I hear him say. Sam’s eyes meet mine and I see him grin. I lift my hands in question and he waves me away. I go and sit down on the other end of the sofa. “Of course,” he says into the phone. He glances in my direction and then quickly away. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of her.” He laughs. But then I hear a sharp retort through the phone and he sobers, his cheeks growing red. “Yes, sir,” he says. He hands the phone back to me. I lift it to my ear. “What did you do?” I ask Emilio. “Nada damn thing that didn’t need doing.” He chuckles. “Love you, kid.” “Love you too, Melio.” “Think about what I asked you.” I nod like he can see me. “I will. I’ll let you know.” He says goodbye and hangs up. I sink back against the couch cushion. Sam laughs. “What’s so funny?” I glare at him. “Nothing.” But he’s still biting back laughter. “What did he say to you?” “You really want to know?” He grabs my foot and jerks it into his lap. My bottom slides across the couch. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man bodily move me around before. I’m not sure I like it. And I’m not sure I don’t like it, either. “What did he say?” “He said the only thing that could be referenced as a woody around here had better be the Woodpecker. I think he meant you. And that I should worry about castration if I try to get in your pants.” “Oh.” What little breath I can get in and out stalls. Sam sort of stole it all with that declaration. “I’m sorry about that.” I wince. “He’s your dad.” He shrugs. “I respect that.” I