Okay, so I wake this morning before the baby. Before John. And way before Evan. I brew my coffee. (Yep, remember the Death of the Coffeemaker? My old friend was replaced!) And I go outside to sit on the front porch before it turns into Shades of Hades out there like it always does. Lately it has been sweltering, and you can feel your fat cells melting as soon as you step outside, but not this morning. I actually was wearing a hoodie!
So there I am, mug in hand, people-watching. Before I say this, let me tell you I love my neighborhood. I really do. But seriously? Some of these people are freaks!
When I was pregnant with Zach, I tended to notice other peoples' baby gear, simply because I was in the market myself. Well we have this one chick who walks every morning with a Bugaboo Frog. WTF, you ask? Well, that's a stroller. An $800 stroller to be exact. I covet it, really. But this woman has it to....wait for it...walk her damned dog. Which happens to be the ugliest animal I have ever seen. I am all for the pets-as-family-members deal. And just because I am allergic to everything with fur does not make me an animal hater. But this? Seriously? Isn't the pont of walking a dog just that? Actually walking the dog? I guess I could be wrong...
Next we have Mr. Crotchety. Mr. Crotchety has to be 80 years old. He hates kids. Fine. He has that right. I try to be polite to him, but because I procreated, I am on his short list. He is directly next door to me. For the first 6 months we lived here, I was off of work for the Pregnancy From Hell. But once I started working again, and could be seen coming and going in scrubs, his memory was jogged and I became familiar to him. Turns out I took care of his wife at one point. But before that, he would simply growl when I would smile and wave. Well, in the mornings, before it gets hot, Mr. Crotchety tends his lawn. He can be seen doing a vast array of chores in odd old-people ways. This morning, he was seen trimming the grass along his sidewalk...with scissors! Down on his 80-year-old knees.
Then there's The Playa. Ha! This is the guy who gets up, ushers his kids into his minivan, then rolls. It's all "Come on, kids, buckle up!", then you hear it: booming bass. In the minivan. And all of the windows are down as gagsta rap thuds from the vehicle as he makes his way down the street.
And do you remember those ultra-short running shorts that were made of shiny nylon? We--wait, not we--some people---wore them in the 80's. Well, I have a neighbor who thought they were too good to let slip with the passing of the decades. And he runs in them every morning. But the best part? He completes the look with the tight tank top, the tube socks pulled up to his knees, the sweatbands on his head and wrists. And he has to be about 60. It is all I can do to keep from laughing when he runs by the house in the morning.
Before you think I live in the Land of Misfits, I shoud clarify that these oddballs are mixed amongst the general population of late 20's/ early 30's young professionals that make up the rest of the community. We are the more normal ones. They can be seen walking behind strollers with actual children in them, while their dogs trail along on leashes. Wearing clothes from this decade. Mowing the lawn with actual lawn equipment. Acting their age.
But the oddballs make my morning coffee so much more interesting!