Continuing the saga from a few years back, when we lived on a very busy road, with four precocious kids (those darling, daring escapees).... We lived at that house for 8 years, but I had in mind to move from there for a long time. For good reason, I was nervous about the powder keg which was my boys mixed with dangerous situations. One afternoon, around lunchtime, we returned from town in our van. As I pulled close to our driveway, I saw two teenagers walking across our yard, headed towards the house. I had the distinct impression that they were up to no good. It was during school hours and they just looked guilty. One of them turned and stared me down. I didn't want a confrontation in the driveway, so I drove slowly around the block. The truants were gone when we got back. I checked the house carefully before we went in, then got lunch ready. Maybe twenty minutes later, I heard a noise on the front lawn. I peeked out and there was one of the boys pinned face-down with a big cop on top of him. The other one was already in handcuffs. They robbed a house two doors up and a neighbor called it in. A chase ensued and ended on our lawn. The police came to my door later and said to keep an eye out, because one of the boys had had a gun and threw it in the woods while he was being chased. The police had not been able to find it. This whole scenario made me sincerely want to vacate. I felt we were exposed and I didn't feel comfortable living there anymore.
But alas, there was always humor sprinkled along the way while we were in that giant fishbowl of a house. We had a friend with about a dozen kids who lived a mile away. Richard (let's call him that) was one of these people who could do no wrong. He was very buttoned-up, kind, courteous, a perfectionist. His children were exemplary, his yard perfect, his wife an angel. So of course it was when Richard exercised and jogged by our house, all manner of bizarre things happened. If something odd occurred, I could almost bet that he was gonna be running by. Once, I was digging and planting one of my flower beds. In a dress. Hey, I saw an opportunity and I wasn't going to stop to change clothes. This flower bed was giant, built more like a hill than a bed. I was overreaching when I lost my balance and tipped over the top of the mound, feet and dress flying up. Of course Richard was ambling by. On another day, I had been up all night, delivering thirteen Golden Retriever puppies, several of whom had gotten stuck and had to be retrieved in an ungodly manner. I plopped, exhausted, onto the front porch, where I saw a big, fat cigar that someone had left there, unwrapped, with a box of matches beside it. I had a strange hankering, lit up that cigar and was puffing away when my dear friend jostled by. He was and is a very good Baptist and I imagine he thought I was too, up until that day. Now we've joined the Presbyterians. There were numerous other events, but the funniest was when I was in the driveway, about to get in my van. A really big insect flew up my dress. I tried to swish it away, but it just kept going up. I started flailing and slapping, but it continued buzzing and stinging. Finally, I just went ahead and threw my dress over my head. I found the stinkin' monster and slapped my poor fluffy body silly until it was dead. Dress and hair askew, hollering, slapping. Silence. Then disbelief, as I saw our friend jogging ever so slowly by. In recent years, I had the chance to eat supper with their family. I regaled this story to his kids. They were rolling in the floor when I asked him if he actually saw that happen.
The answer, unfortunately, was yes, he did.
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