Planning Ahead

Well, at least I now know what (some) of the lumber is for.

My brother treated himself to a firepit. He intends to build what he calls a patio by the front door, set up the firepit there, sit back and drink beer and use the wood for fuel. He doesn't want to put it out back because of some obnoxious nearby dogs who are happy to bark at anything they see (or think they see) all night long. He's much happier with it being visible from the road which, in all honesty, is a better view, anyway.

No idea when the construction on this "patio" might begin. No idea, either, on his intentions for the plywood. Or the crutches.

The funny thing is, we already have a couple of woodpiles on the property that have been aging for literally years. Of course, by the time he's ready to start burning, the new sticks could also be well-seasoned despite being pine.

In the meantime, city code enforcement stopped by and left a note on our door. Apparently, the carrotwood tree is visible from the road and so was all the new lumber which is a violation of the city's "No Outdoor Storage" rule. My brother moved a small section of fencing to hide the 4x6 stumpy bits and carefully rearranged the pallets to lie flat behind a decorative wall of railroad ties (still around the carrotwood) and: voila! No more code violation. (At least, nothing that can be seen from the street.)

On the plus side, he did just bring home a large bag of blood oranges from somewhere, so there's that.

Over 200 Served, Not Counting the Cops

Last night began with my brother cursing (one of his favorite pastimes) and vowing never to honor this holiday again (totally not to be taken seriously) because the wind kept threatening to blow over the balloons and even the zombies, and the blower motors inflating the balloons were worn out and there were no viable batteries to power the zombies' eyes and moans, pretty much all of which was true but irrelevant since the real problem was that, as usual, he left everything to the last minute, didn't do any pre-installation checking (re: batteries and motors) and, even on the morning of the day, wasted an hour or two (I wasn't home at the time) chopping down a bougainvillea that was encroaching on the lanai--and had been for several years so why it had to come down right then who knows.

There's no point engaging him when he gets like this so I just let him run his course and assumed the wind would die down once the sun set (it did) and the motors would be more effective when the air cooled (they were). The battery problem was solved when he ran off to the store as the first kids were arriving and bought a jumbo pack of AAs. 

Meanwhile the pillaging hordes started to trickle in about 4:30. Our first visitor, a teenage female pirate, was followed by a five-year-old female doctor. I was kind of disappointed that a lot of kids really didn't seem to put much effort into their "costumes" although the first pirate was very good and there were a number of passable ghouls, super heroes (both male and female) and even a couple of classic Ghostbusters. A couple of kids had corrugated cartons on their heads and I assumed they were Box Trolls but, when I said that to one she sounded very disappointed and sighed, "No, I'm a robot," and turned on the flashing rotating lights in her eye and mouth spaces. I think I might have gotten that correct if they'd been on to start with. The most original was a five- or six-year-old orange Crayola crayon. Second place went to a perfect little Beetlejuice being wheeled around in his stroller.

There were three distinct waves of foragers, the first starting just after sunset, the last coming through just as the police arrive around 9:10.

Did I mention that the police shut us down?

One patrol car went by very slowly on the main street early on in the evening but didn't stop. A second one came onto our street and parked just up from the main activity about 8:30 or so but that's way too early to enforce any sort of noise ordinance and we weren't that loud anyway so he left.

We can't be sure a complaint was filed since people were parking in the main road's median strip as well as on the shoulders in order to get into our street and the police may have been responding to the congestion. Comparing the ethnic diversity of our visitors with the homogeneity Neighbor Dan (who, it must be admitted had partaken of a number of shots) was not taking any chances and attempted preemptive revenge on the mean old man down the street who always complains about everything to the point of calling the police and filing reports about car horns, lawn mowing and unregistered vehicles, by taking a visiting German shepherd named Diesel for a walk and encouraging him to poop on said neighbor's lawn. Diesel was uncooperative.

Finally, three patrol cars came back around 9:20 and stayed until everything completely wound down about forty minutes later which it totally would have done anyway since we were running out of candy and the third wave was thinning out. They didn't say anything to anyone as far as I could tell but their presence was a big hint. Plus, the night was crystal clear and the temperature had dropped into the mid-60s which is a little cool for short-sleeves around here. We put the zombies safely away in the garage, my brother deflated the balloons and I went in to make a cup of hot tea.

My brother's mood had been steadily improving throughout the evening (as I knew it would) and now, operating on the theory that any party shut down by the police is by definition a success, he was delighted. By my calculations we served just north of 220 trick-or-treaters. I managed to salvage three 100 Grand bars for myself and my brother gave me two Almond Joys he acquired somewhere.

This morning is bright and sunny but the wind is howling again.

The Best Laid Schemes . . .

My niece was tentatively scheduled to go home last Monday. I am astonished by the speed at which people can recuperate from major surgery these days mostly as a result of improvements in surgical practice that minimize trauma to the body. When I was a kid, people stayed in hospital longer recovering from tonsillectomies (surgery like she had wasn't even possible).

As it was, those plans went agley when she suddenly developed a level three (whatever that means, but it was serious) heart block and they rushed her back into the OR and installed a pacemaker. I'd like to think her heart, after struggling for years and years just to keep her alive, suddenly reacted to the lack of stress due to all the new replacement parts and upgrading and sort of "overclocked." Or kind of like pushing and pushing on a stuck door when someone finally removes the doorstop on the other side (not that that's ever happened to anyone I know).

So now not only does she have bionic bits, she's battery powered as well.

At least she got a nice visit from a cute service dog. And will stay in the hospital for another week or so. Just to be sure.

One of the Inmates May Be Making A Break For It

Neighbor Mike may be serious about moving.

First he had someone come in and officially delineate the property line between him and us. Shortly after that a family with a young daughter was wandering through his back yard. Last week a fat old beagle, answering to the name "Jersey," came snuffling around our lanai and two gentlemen I have never seen before came from behind Mike's house, apologized, and guided him back to their side. I suspect the parties in both instances may have been potential marks casing the joint.

This weekend there were a number of vehicles parked in Mike's driveway and along the side of the road in front of his place. Either they were friends/relatives there for an impromptu (and very quiet) daytime party, or he was holding some sort of garage sale to unload stuff he has no intention of packing when he goes.

He's being very discreet. There is no Sale sign in front of his place. So, no gawkers. Interested parties only, and through an agent.

I have noticed a number of new For Sale signs popping up around town in front of houses that are obviously occupied and well-tended so, apparently, the market is finally coming back up pretty near the lip of the crater that was the aftermath of the 2008 crash.

Who wants to be our neighbor? Can we get you to mow our side of the line, like Mike did? (Bonus: He tended to use our mower which he often borrowed without asking. We took his ladders. We're all kind of a commune that way.)

The Night In Question

(The Wedding Party)

So, it turns out twenty (20!) bags of candy weren't enough, after all, and we needed to borrow one from Neighbor Dan who only bought 9 bags but his were three times the size of ours so it balanced out pretty evenly in the end.

Despite the last-minute nature of our decorating due to my brother's bout of the plague followed by his trip to the Bahamas and delayed return from spending an extra day with his girlfriend, we looked pretty good. A little sparse compared to previous years, but the trick-or-treaters didn't seem to notice.

(A Wedding Crasher)

The wedding party went over nicely. Several people even crashed it to have their pictures taken with the bride. Later in the evening, my brother joined them and sat very quietly until unsuspecting visitors came up close enough to collect their treats.

(Spot the Living Guest)

Reactions ranged from glorious screams to comments of, "Really?" (but only following a sideways jump of at least three feet), to one woman who got into a snit and just stomped off. Generally, though the responses were great, especially from the kids and foreigners. The kids, in particular, showed no fear. They posed with zombies and in front of the hearse and danced with the skeletons.

(Spiderman Does a Turn With the Singing Skeleton)

One German gentleman came up and, explaining that it was his first time here, asked me when the holiday normally occurred and how long it lasted. I told him it was always the evening before All Saints' Day and, although the decorations went up a few days earlier, the kids came by only on this one night. He seemed intrigued, yet bemused, by the whole concept. He especially didn't seem to understand the gorilla chasing the six-foot banana down the street.

Another German family came by later in the evening. They were relative veterans, it seems, as they were all dressed as pumpkins. I informed them they made a very sincere pumpkin patch but I don't think they got the reference. And the only beagle that showed up was dressed as a lobster. 

The giant banana came back later in the evening all out of breath. He took a couple of candy bars and said, "Thanks. That monkey's been after me all night long."

(Giant Lawn Cat Is Watching You Trick-or-Treat)

Final tally: 200+ kids of various ages and sizes plus almost as many parents/guardians (many themselves in costume), three dogs (one disguised as a crustacean) and the equivalent of 23 bags of candy. And lots of appreciative compliments. Guess we'll do it again.

(Y'all come Back Next Year, Y'hear?)

Mom, A Life: Part Five

Mom A Life: Part Four

Career and Early Suburbia

When Mom was pregnant (with me) she quit the hospital and went to work in the private practice of Dr. Elisabeth Adams, a GP who had just moved her office from New York City to the quiet, classically New England village of Guilford, Connecticut. Mom took the bus from New Haven where she and Dad had an apartment. Both mothers-in-law lived in the same building.

(Dr. Adams' residence and office on the NW corner of the Guilford Green.)

Dr. Adams was a bit of a character in her own right and fit in quite well with the New England tolerance and encouragement of eccentricity. She was a Christian Scientist and did not believe in doctors--for herself--but became a doctor to serve others less enlightened. She also didn't believe in pain. Mom became the office head nurse and desired administrator of all shots.

My delivery was complicated but that didn't stop Mom from having two other children, both boys. The second child, Jon, was also born in the apartment in New Haven but, when they were expecting the third child, Robert, Mom and Dad decided to buy a house of their own in a newly opened suburban development in East Haven, adjacent to New Haven and one town closer to Guilford. The development, High Ridge, was huge by the standards of the day, paving over and landscaping acres upon acres of river bottom farm land and building hundreds of houses, all variations on the theme of single story ranch.

All the families on our little cul-de-sac moved in within months of each other. All the parents were roughly the same age (Mom and Dad were the outliers, having started later) as were all the (many) children. The one notable area of diversity was in religion. Our family was Congregational Protestant (the old Puritan church of New England). Our neighbors on one side were Catholic, on the other Jewish. The kids of all three families grew up calling all the other parents aunts and uncles. We envied Larry and Debbie because they received a present every day of Hanukkah. They envied our Christmas tree. 

Parenting was different then. The dog was frequently our babysitter. Fortunately, he was a smart dog. One day he came running home to get Mom and bring her and Aunt Barbara through some back yards and into the woods down to the Farm River that formed the western boundary of the development where Barbara's daughter Debbie was crying because my brother Robert was trapped in the middle of the stream with his snowsuit snagged on a branch. They were around three years old at the time. I would often ride my bike twenty miles or so round trip two towns over, mostly on back roads but occasionally on the state highway, just exploring. I never told anyone. I was eight or nine.

As the '50s came to an end, the state completed a new highway (the Connecticut Turnpike, I-95) east along the shore, opening up formerly isolated beach towns for expansion. We moved further out, leapfrogging Guilford, to Madison.

The Mother Lode

This morning an ibis apparently hit the bug jackpot in neighbor Mike's backyard. It began dipping and pecking at his lawn in a frenzy, swallowing and dipping again and again. The ibis have been flocking together recently and it wasn't long before this one was joined by another and then another and then three more followed by five additional as the number of diners increased geometrically to around forty or so. They formed feeding rows ten or twelve abreast and worked one side to the other breaking only to move around the orange trees. The feeding was so good, when something startled them they flew only as far as the nearest trees and power lines, waited the minimum time to recognize the false alarm and returned to pick up right where they'd left off.

When ibis fly into trees they, of necessity go to the top branches since they are too tall to comfortably fit where another branch is above them. The exceptions are palm trees where they will fly directly to the vertical bole and cling tenuously for a few moments before their own weight, levered out almost horizontally at the end of their long legs, causes them to lose their grip.

Those long legs also give them a difficult time with power lines. All birds sway a little on the line since the wires are very thin and free to move but the arc of a balancing ibis can be as much as 30 degrees forward or back. A row of ibis, shoulder to shoulder, on a house feeder wire will cause it to sag noticeably. One bird will lean forward, catch its balance and lean back (often overcorrecting). This causes its neighbors on either side to compensate by leaning forward and then back themselves which requires the next ones in line to do the same and so on. If they get the timing right they can create a kind of sine wave and for a few seconds it is possible to watch the wave crests roll down the line and back. Usually, though, and inevitably, it gets chaotic pretty quick and the whole thing explodes off the wire in a flurry of white wings, skinny legs and long bills.

After the second false alarm, the original crew was joined by another twenty or so putting the total at the feeding frenzy over sixty. Then they all took off at once and kept going.

Followed by another neighbor's just-out-of-puppyhood black lab with a look of sheerest joy on its face chasing after them across neighbor Mike's yard and ours.

Followed by the neighbor's teenage son.

There is a large, low white cloud circling the neighborhood. Maybe they'll return for dessert.

Suburban Zombie Dog-Walking Lady, Part 3

I have discovered the lair of the zombie dog-walking lady. It's at the furthest point of my walk before I begin the loop back. I have varied the timing of my walks (more by accident than design) and--arriving early one morning--discovered it standing by the circular drive, still, unmoving, looking for all the world like a giant, white, overweight, female jockey boy statue holding the reins to the dog. (So, just like one of those obnoxious jockey boy statues except for the giant, white, overweight female part.) It did not move an inch as I went past.

The house is strange but in a very subtle way. It is single story, as so many others in the neighborhood are, but with a roof that rises to the level of a two story structure without gables or skylight. It also has a half turret appendage attached to the back. (The back abuts an empty lot which in turn faces another road that is part of my walk so I can, between the two see the entirety of the place.) It can not be hollow under those huge eaves. No one would be crazy enough to heat or cool all of that empty space.

Since no house in south Florida has a basement, the water table being far too high, the only logical conclusion is that the reanimation lab is tucked up under the roof, invisible to the casual observer.

I have never seen lights on in this place, nor a car in the driveway. Since any closer inspection will involve either deception or trespass, I am not sure where to take the investigation from here.

Suburban Zombie Dog-Walkng Lady, Part 2

Encountered the SZD-WL again this morning. It was being led around by the aging shephard. I noticed the bandages are off its leg, which can mean only one thing...

Regeneration/reanimation is going on here! Which can mean only one thing...

There is a secret zombie regeneration/reanimation lab somewhere in the neighborhood!! Which can mean only one thing...

I have a mission! I must/will find that lab.

Suburban Zombie Dog-Walking Lady

As the days have become longer and hotter (and humider(?), humidier(?), more humidous(?)) I have moved my morning walk earlier and earlier to stay just ahead of sunrise. I see occasional neighbors up and about, usually a kid or two waiting for a school bus (that's over for now) or adults leaving for work or walking their dogs. I've gotten to know a couple of the dogs (Hey, Gina, hi, Harry!). But there's one I have not been able to introduce myself to.

He's an elderly but still magnificent shepherd who walks the same route almost every morning trailing a short, rotund zombie lady behind him. I can tell she's a zombie because her eyes are beady and unfocused, staring straight ahead into the middle distance. Her head never turns; she acknowledges nothing in their path. She does not deviate from the established route. She does not speak when spoken to. Lately she's appeared with bandages wrapped around one leg. I suspect she might be deteriorating.

At first I thought she might be a normal human but all stuck up and snotty in that stereotypical suburban way but that would've meant she was annoying and obnoxious. Dealing with which is not how I want to start the day. Then I thought maybe she was terrified of everything or pathologically shy which was not merely depressing but pathetic and also an early morning downer to be avoided.

I have therefor concluded she is a zombie attached to the shepherd every morning by its owner and set loose to act as a counterweight to any ambitions the old dog might still entertain. The dog, of course, knows just how far he can go before he has to turn around in order to be home before the sun is fully risen and his zombie can no longer walk. He's too old (and she's too heavy) for him to be dragging her any distance.

This conclusion also has the benefit of allowing me a little entertainment during my walks.