GROWTH PROBLEMS

 Awhile back, on the morning the Legado apartment project was torched and burned to the ground, I told you about a woman I met who was gazing at the damage as was I.

She said hotly that she didn't feel sorry for the developers because the 5-story project was "too big for our small town."

I gently responded that it wasn't a small town anymore.

We had another reminder of that last night, much closer to us.

After reading an email Judy had sent I told her I thought it would be right for my blog and she consented.

So here it is.

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Last evening we had both retired to our rooms and were reading in bed.  Suddenly there were four or five very loud bangs outside the house.  I wondered if our neighbors were setting off fireworks.  Bruce thought someone was banging on our front door.

In less than five minutes the neighborhood was lit up by cop cars with all lights flashing.  Across the street all the residents of one side of a duplex were outside in the yard.  Soon there were too many cops to count milling around and flashing their very bright flashlights in every direction.

Then out came traffic cones draped with crime scene yellow tape . . . IN OUR DRIVEWAY!  The yellow tape was wrapped around the tree in our front yard in addition to the traffic cones.  A floodlight from one of the police vehicles was aimed at our home.

Bruce got dressed and went out front to try and discover something from the cops about what was going on.  No info there at first.

Finally it was determined that there had been a drive-by shooting, with the duplex residents straight across from us as targets. No one was hit.  The little girl who lives there was pacing and crying.  Now and then someone would embrace her.  She grabbed her little bicycle and started to ride it but was told to put it away.

The police found shell casings in our driveway.  They also found tire tracks and a female detective asked if they were from our car or not.  When Bruce didn't know because our car does leave tracks she asked to photograph the tires.  He opened the garage door and she took her pictures.

She also told him they'd be there for an hour or two and apologized for the upset.

We finally got so tired of the whole experience that we decided to go back to bed at about 10:45.

This morning all is clear.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

------by Judith Taylor

FUN WITH DADS

 There is a certain kind of humor that I have been accused of having.

It's the kind of humor that people disparage as "Dad Jokes".

Usually they are puns.

Like . . .

or . . .

or . . .

or . . .

Then there are those guys who started putting their jokes up on signboards outside their businesses.

And, of course we can't leave out whoever began all of those Star Trek memes.

Some times the so-called Dad Humor is just silly.

Like . . .

Which brings me to an example of where I may have found my particular brand of humor.

From a song my Dad used to sing in the car at the top of his voice, embarrassing my mother and making my brother and I laugh.

I still sing it but I won't do that here.  I'll just give you the lyrics, as I remember them.

"Emmalina and I went fishing one day, 

on the bank of Chesapeake Bay.

Emmalina caught a codfish and I caught a bass, 

Emmalina fell in, clear up to her asssssssssssssk

me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

Emmalina fell in, clear up to her eyes!"

Thank yuh, thank yuh, thank you ver' much. 

 

ARSON RESULT

 You may have read here about the tragic fire that engulfed the huge apartment, shopping and dining complex named Legado in the heart of Prescott Valley, Arizona.

I wrote about it here and here.

Investigators have long since ruled it an arson, committed by the same mysterious person who also started fires at the local high school.

He is unknown as yet but a reward for his capture and conviction has soared to 100 thousand dollars.

The loss to the builders of this project is put at 60 million dollars.

Here are some photos of the aftermath that I took today.

All of what you see will be demolished.

The owners of the property hope to rebuild.

As I said, the criminal who caused this damage is unknown.

As yet.

UNE ARTISTE

Do you see why I call her the Beautiful Artistic Daughter?

When she came by for a visit recently, she had put her hair up and wrapped it in what I called "a head rag".

I'm sure it has some fancier term.

But when I looked up and saw her I said, "Wow! You look like an artiste!"

She responded, "I am!" 

As the three of us were sitting together, her mother said, "I told her I don't think she looks a day over 50."

I thought even younger than that.

But truth be told, she recently celebrated a landmark birthday 20 years beyond that half-century mark.

I find it hard to believe.

But when I realize that I've known her for 54 years . . .

I still think she's more beautiful now than she was way back then.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 Okay, it's time to stop protesting, to put all sad things behind.

It's time for the pre-Saturday sappiness.

So let's not solicit a second more of your time.

Let's get on with it!

That's all I've got, Gentle Readers and Mirthful Mavens.

No, please take the rest of it for yourselves and attempt to have an artfully fine weekend.

But ALWAYS . . . ALWAYS REMEMBER TO KEEP LAUGHING!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

( . . . uh, huh, I suspected as much . . . )

A YARD SALE

 The little girl who lives across the street is always in motion.  She bursts out the door and jumps on her tiny bicycle or a scooter and races around the driveway and sometimes even into the street.  We live on a rather remote street so that doesn't consist of too much danger.  Just enough.

Her energy is enviable.  But she is only seven or eight years old so that is easy to understand.

I'm guessing that she must have recently gone to a yard sale with someone.  She must have decided that was a great way to make some money.

This afternoon she started hauling items out into the front yard of her home.  Many articles colored pink.  Her mother helped her bring larger items out of a very crowded garage.

The little girl carried item after item out.  She arranged them and re-arranged them repeatedly.  Then she sat down in a tiny chair and waited for the customers to flock in.  

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Then she walked out and looked up and down the street.  When a car was heard approaching, she would look down the street and start waving her arms in a beckoning motion as the car whizzed past.

This went on for about an hour and a half.  No one stopped.  She disappeared into the house.

Now, as the sun is setting, the garage door is back up and the items are slowly being returned inside.

 - - - by Judith Taylor

MAY DAY

Now don't tell me about the first day of May being celebrated as a Workers' Day, or a really big deal for international Communists.

And don't start with it being the first day of Asian Pacific American Heritage month or that it's celebrated as Lei Day in Hawaii.

Or that it's National Learn to Ride a Bike Day or World Carnivorous Plant Day.

I might lean a bit in the direction of National Chocolate Parfait Day.

When I was a tot, the first of May was celebrated by hanging May Baskets on people's doorknobs and running away.

The lucky recipient would open the door to find no one there but a basket containing these types of candies.

I've outgrown those.

No I go back, way back, to the ancient pagans who knew how to mark this period between Spring and Summer.

They danced around a May-Pole.

Modern Day Pagans paint themselves green and indulge in drinking and dining and perhaps some other whims of mind.

I'm all in on that.

However and whatever you celebrate, Happy May Day!