Kookamongaville's cast of characters are beginning to emerge

Sometimes it takes a little bit of sunshine to get people out of their houses and start to walk amongst us. This includes all my crazy neighbors who have started to emerge. First the dog and I walked down the Pajama Mans street because we haven't been there in quite some time. It was time to check on him, we were both wondering if he had received any new pajamas or if he was still rockin' his old ones. We were disappointed to see he wasn't wandering the streets but his chair was out, garage door open and he flag was up. We will have to try again tomorrow.
On the up side I said good morning to the Russian Lady, she was out for her march. She doesn't walk, she marches. Perhaps that's what they do in third world communist countries, you know learn to march before they can walk. I didn't get a good morning back in her heavy Russian accent, just a nod. I think she's scared of the dog. I'm pretty sure she's Russian, she sounds like it to me. But I have learned from Dancing With The Stars that Ukrainians sound the same. So who know where she learned to march. I just can't wait to get poolside when she's there with all her kin to listen to them ishkabibble.
So the neighborhood promises to be a continuing source of amusement for my blog now that we are almost sure it isn't going to snow anymore. Kookamonga is on the loose.

A new character in the Kookamongaville cast

The garbage man has managed to take a reoccurring role in the neighborhood drama I've created in my head. He is a Friday character as Friday morning is garbage day. My observations have revealed he is a real go-getter.
We live on a corner lot and he parks his garbage truck on the street next to the side of my house. This area is part of mine and the dogs route, nice guy, I wave to him every Friday morning. I can't speak to him unless I yell because the garbage truck is loud. And I never engage in conversation with anyone in the morning so I'm certainly not going to yell, just a friendly wave.
I'm sure this all sounds normal to you so far and it does to me too. Let's get to why I have classified him as a Kookamongaville character. It's the go-getter part that leads to his kookamonga tendencies. Apparently he has a certain start time but arrives early. Why does he arrive early? Well he has to apply his sunscreen. And then he has to do some stretching. Swear to God, hand on the bible he looks like he's getting ready for a football game. Running in place, loosening up his neck and swinging his arms around. This garbage man takes his job seriously and for that I admire him but he still fits well in my neighborhood.
The pajama man gave me a hearty 'Good Morning" last week which makes me think that he probably has a few good years left in him. We haven't been able to get to his street this week because there is a new dog walker that keeps getting in my way. He started down the pajama mans street and with it being a culdesac I didn't want to get trapped with our dogs barking at each other. And I prefer my arms in their sockets.
The Russian woman has me slightly concerned. I've mentioned before that she slowly swims laps around the perimeter of the pool non-stop, but I also run into her about once a week on the morning walk. I don't know if all Russians are taught to march before they learn to walk and it's a hard habit to break once you've reached the free world but she is a marcher. And this week she caused my eyebrows to rise. Dressed in a blue dress with a magenta sweater, tennis shoes and socks, she was marching around my beloved, now closed, pools parking lot. Her arms bent at her elbows moving back and forth in unison. She had her big sunglasses on and a baseball cap slightly a skewed and resting on her shades. She said good morning in her thick Russian accent. I could barely see her face, she's up to something. I will continue to keep an eye on her and eventually work up the nerve to ask her to say, 'moose and squirrel'.
So the garbage man has a guest roll in the on going neighborhood mayhem. Welcome garbage man, you crazy bastard.

A head clearing, light hearted stroll

First of all somebody tell this dog that our early morning walks are suppose to be head clearing, light hearted strolls. Yesterday she took off after another bunny, whereby yanking my arm almost out of it's socket yet again. This time I wasn't able to hold on and the dog became perplexed. Maybe it was the words coming out of my mouth so early in the morning or she really loves me and would rather stay with me then kill. It's hard to say but she didn't make me chase her through the neighborhood and for that I'm grateful. I do fear though, the next bunny we encounter may be when she finally rips off my arm.
And I thought my neighbors and I had an unspoken early morning, dog walking schedule, apparently not. The 9:30 walker was right in front of my house at my scheduled time of 7:30 and all hell broke loose. The dog has her favorites in the development, like her boyfriend next door. He escapes regularly to visit her and pee on our bushes. I think it's a sign of affection when he hikes his leg up and leaves her something to remember him by.
But he was part of the mayhem outside my door this morning. An unscheduled dog walker with one of my dogs arch rivals, in front of my house and an escapee trying to impress her by boldly jumping up the steps to wiz on my flower pots. She didn't know what to do, caught between emotions and all. On one paw she had to bark to defend her territory, she couldn't show weakness but I could tell she really wanted to take a whiff of those flower pots.
This is all happening and I'm barely awake. We waited on the steps for the unscheduled one to pass by and the barking from both sides ended. Then we herded Romeo back to his yard, secured him inside his fence and continued what we started, a head clearing, light hearted stroll.

The neighborhood is slowly spiraling out of control

I don't think anyone has notice the subtle yet alarming signs that the neighborhood is loosing its grip on reality. Either they do not have the astute sense of awareness that I do or I need to get out more. I've lived in this development for 19 years, have been poolside every summer and never have a couple of ducks landed in a crowded pool for a swim.

I took my face out of the book I'm reading to help make me a more better writer and saw the second one land. Since I see old men walking down the road in pajamas, people carrying canoes on the sidewalk, mailboxes being slaughtered and my neighbors partying in their boat that is still parked in the driveway, swimming with ducks shouldn't surprise me. But like a good blogger I got up and said,

"Well I better take a picture of this."

They are hard to see because I couldn't see the screen on my phone. I had to crop out my fingers and I circled them in red but for some reason the red circle is not showing up. But that's them by the second black line in the pool and yes that's a kid underwater swimming towards them but he's not in a pool of blood it's the blur of one of my fingers.

 

The dog's trying to kill me

"The dog's trying to kill me."
These are the first words the husband hears when he wakes up this morning. From me in the shower as he enters the bathroom. Because something as serious as this can be said before coffee. Not much can be said before someone rolls out of bed and hasn't even approached the coffee maker but the dog is trying to kill me. I saw no problem in breaking protocol. He responded,
"Okay."
He knows that I know that he knows I'm going to tell him what happened no matter what he said so he kept it simple. I knew the dog was outside of the bathroom door listening but didn't care. I began to tell him about my morning.
Forty-five minutes before my alarm was set to rouse me from my slumber the dog jumped up on the bed. This woke up me and my bladder. I laid there thinking that maybe I could just fall back to sleep. The dog found a comfortable spot, half of my pillow, and waited for the alarm while I drifted off. Unfortunately someone dared walk past our house, ears perked, low growl, the dog took off to the living room using my stomach as her jumping point. I've never been punched in the stomach before but I kind of have the gist of what it might feel like now. I then had to get up to pee.
I didn't fall back to sleep but I was pissed so I made the dog wait until my radio went off. This is her cue to start the "we're going on a walk" dance. Our walks are a time for me to put my day together, think out loud with the dog as my sounding board. She doesn't listen to me because she has to sniff everything. But at least it looks like I'm talking to someone, not just wandering the neighborhood talking to myself. We have a few different routes we take in the morning and this morning we went off the beaten path, because that's the way we roll, and walked around the tennis court, by the pool and the woods.
I had my walking flip flops on because its June and I won't put a sock on until sometime in September maybe. We rounded the corner and she saw it before I did. A bunny. They must be an easy prey because to really likes to chase them with vengeance. She caught one a few weeks ago and now has the taste for bunny blood coursing through her veins. I, on the other hand, have no desire to chase bunnies.
What started out as a lack of communication ended up with my arm yanked so hard from the leash that my feet flew out from under me. I landed on my left side and was dragged about a foot on the moist, from the early morning dew, grass. I don't know how I managed to keep hold of the leash as the dog continued to yank trying to get into the woods to hunt her some wabbits.
After the initial shock, I regained my senses and stood up. That was a good sign, being able to stand. I got the dog under control and away from the woods. Also a good sign, I could walk. I ruled out the emergency room on our way home. Everything on my left side hurts but I don't think I have a torn rotator cuff or will need Tommy John surgery.
At some point during the retelling of my morning the husband had snuck out of the bathroom and I was in the shower talking to myself. When I walked out he asked,
"So are you okay?"
"No. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Sure."
"Okay, just let me go Spray and Wash the grass stains on my jeans and hoodie and I'll be right back."
As the day goes by the left side of me becomes sore and stiff. You just don't fall down like that and bounce back after a certain age. So far the dog and I have been getting along, we are just staying out of each others way. But I am avoiding going near the steps.

Welcome to Kookamongaville, I will be your Captain

The neighbors are practically writing this blog for me. These guys moved in during the winter or they've been here a couple years, not sure. But they bought a boat this spring. It isn't uncommon to see a boat in a neighbors driveway, it's a lake community. What is uncommon is to see the neighbors and their friends sitting in the boat drinking beer.
For the past three weekends the neighbors have had their friends come over, we know this because of the extra cars parked on the street, and party like it's 1999. In the boat while it remains in their driveway. I don't care what anybody says, that's going to draw some attention, specifically mine.
"I have to get a picture of these guys."
And then I heard a collective,
"NO!"
"But................"
"NO!"
"You don't see this sort of behavior often, it needs to be made fun of, pointed out and on my blog."
"They're drinking and they out number us, mom put the camera away." 
They had a good argument, so I took a picture of it empty on a Monday morning and decided to paint the rest of the picture myself.
That is a Pontoon boat, which is also know as a party boat. People, most people, float out to the middle lake and party. I've never seen one of them driving very fast, they usually just meander to a spot, drop anchor and pop open a few cold ones. Swim a little, eat some snacks and pop open a few cold ones. I'm pretty sure when you buy one of these Pontoons they come stocked with beer.
I'm not sure where my neighbors heads are going with this new boat/driveway concept but you can be sure I will be keeping an eye on the situation as it unfolds. I am the Captain of Kookamongaville after all.

The home of the strange and the land of the weird

There are times when I need to leave the safe confines of my neighborhood to find inspiration for a blog post. WalMart. But not in the last couple weeks. Seven kinds of crazy have been wandering around in bathrobes, mailboxes have been flying through the air and now people are walking canoes down the street. I love my neighborhood and all the kookamongas that live here.

We live in a lake community so it isn't really, really weird to see people taking a canoe for a walk it's just that they are going in the opposite direction of the shore. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this type of behavior and I've seen stranger things walk down my side of the street, but who wouldn't take a picture of this?

And then make fun of it?

I'm treading very carefully here because I understand how Karma works

Apparently it's perfectly acceptable to take an early morning walk on Clipper Cove in your pajamas, robe and a light jacket. I might be avoiding that street on future walks. Let me tell you why.

1. The elderly man in his pajamas with his robe tie-around dragging on the ground and knit hat haphazardly a skewed on top of his head was a bit unsettling.
B. The dog looked back at me and I know she was thinking about all the time we could save in the morning if I would just stop looking for a pair of jeans and go out in my PJ's and a light jacket.

As we passed each other he said good morning and I the same. I processed the vision for about 50 feet then looked back and he was gone. I'm treading very carefully here because I understand how Karma works. So instead of being faced with the situation again I'm going to ignore and avoid. And focus my attention on the mailbox mayhem.
Two days after I found evidence of my mailbox being assaulted (see mailbox mayhem link) my neighbors was too and I have pictures. You don't take out a mailbox on my street and not get your picture taken. Especially when you give me 3 chances to get my camera. He kept driving back to the scene of the crime. Once to get his mirror and then to pick up the mail that had burst out of the mailbox, shove it back in the box and try to place the mailbox back on its perch. So that's 2 mailboxes in one week. I have things to do and can't be taken pictures of evil-doers. Keep your eyes on the road when you're in my neighborhood. We have children playing, people walking dogs and old men wandering around in their pajamas for God's sake.

I think she's full of remorse

Just look at that face. Is that the face of a killer? I think not. Buckeye just hasn't been the same since The Incident. I had her outside with me for the afternoon while I did, effing yard work. I really hate raking leaves, they're not done falling and I'll be out there again, it's an endless chore, done year after year. But the rest of the neighbors were doing it so I thought I'd better put forth the effort. Trust me, I didn't over do it, but my back still hurts. I need a nap and vodka.


I thought it would be a good idea to put on Buckeye's peace and love bandanna while we were out. It's kind of her hippy one, with peace signs and hearts. Just in case any other squirrels were out there watching her. They have to know one of their own is gone but I'm certain they don't suspect her. It all happened so fast and most of the violence was behind the bushes, in the front yard. All the squirrels hang out in our back yard. I wanted her to look harmless, I'm looking out for her reputation. I don't want her to have a bad rep in the neighborhood. And I have to say she played her part well. Sniffed around, dug a few holes and lounged around like the queen of the neighborhood. I think we can safely say the "Incident" is behind us.

There are things out there, things

Me and my vivid imagination had absolutely no where to be Sunday morning, so we decided to sleep late. The husband, me and the dog slept the morning away, drifting in and out of sleep. We would mumble about coffee, try to get the dog to start the coffee machine. Apparently this was to difficult for her and she lay at the foot of the bed like a slug. Opposable thumbs came up - again and quite frankly, I'm getting tired of that excuse. The coffee is all made, you just have to push the on button, she could do it if she wanted to.

I listened to the birds chirp, would fall back to sleep. I'd be rattled awake by the thump on the roof.

"The hell?" And then I would hear a thwap, thwap, thwap of something with a giant wing span flying away. It happened 3 or 4 times. I just can't win, I either have ducks and geese or creatures from a scientific experiment gone wrong, like in The Mist, landing on my roof to terrorize my neighborhood. Now seriously, I'm leaning towards the ducks and geese because it's morning and everyone knows horrific, scientific creatures come out at night. But what if the creatures got an early start? Shouldn't I shower? I'd hate to be chased out of my neighborhood in my nightgown and bedhead. I'm too tired to run screaming through the streets. I drifted off again.

Half an hour later, I glanced at the dog, she hadn't moved a muscle. It must have been the husband that woke me because he was gone. I hope he starts the coffee. I hope he wasn't dragged out the window by scary, horrific, scientific creatures. There appeared to be no signs of struggle, I'm sure he's fine. My vivid imagination and I went back to sleep.

Muddy Paw Mania

I had to see this coming right?

New couches + gobs and gobs of melted snow = muddy paw mania

The dog has had a bath 5 days in a row and number six is about to happen as soon as she's done barking at the neighbors. The water's already filling up in the tub and Boy #3 is on stand-by. He carries her in with her muddy paws sticking straight out. Did I mention she hates water?
This a picture of her trying to look cute and innocent but we know she could stay out of the mud if she'd just focus. It's really not necessary to take off barking at every person, dog walker, skate-boarder, bike-rider, jogger and Jehovah Witness that .......... well maybe them, that walks by the house.
So Buckeye gets to stay outside longer than usual to terrorize the neighborhood but with a huge price to pay, dragged into the tub night after night. This is a dog that when she hears the tub water running, she hides. She refuses to put all four paws down in the water at the same time, one must always be out of the water.

I must break from my post to go catch the dog.

Buckeye tried to make a run for the hills, she pulled her lead out of the mushy, muddy ground.
"She's loose!"
"Huh?"
"She pulled her lead out and is headed for the street!"
"The dog?" Who else does he think we're keeping on a lead?
By this time I had my boots on the wrong feet and was out the door. I knew the easiest way to get her was to open the car door and ask her if she wanted to go on a car ride, but hmmmmm..... the mud. I opted for the step on the lead trick while the husband lured her in with biscuits, she's a biscuit whore.

All is well for now, she's in her little house pouting. She'll come out when she's hungry or dear God has to go out again.

Stinkers the Siamese Cat - FOUND

Good news, they found Stinkers. I don't know who "they" are, I'm just going by the signs in the neighborhood. Apparently Stinkers went missing sometime in the middle of the week. White, 8-1/2 x 11 sheets of paper sprang up on all the telephone poles in the neighborhood.

Missing
Siamese Cat
Phone number
STINKERS

You really don't have time to be creative with a sign when your pet gets lost, so you keep it simple. Either the signs worked or Stinkers just got hungry. I have a telephone pole in my front yard and I never looked for the cat.
Pictured is the sign at the end of the development, I guess "they" are thanking all of us for looking.
"Hey, don't mention it, anything I can do to help, really."
I'll be spending the rest of my Sunday guilt ridden because I didn't join the Stinkers search. The weekend was going well too.

Crackle, Whoosh, Thud

I'm hip to the sound a tree makes when it falls. Because the trees in are neighborhood are, for lack of a better word, whimpy. So when I heard the unmistakable sound of crackle, whoosh, thud, my first thought was, "Oh please let it be my neighbors tree."
Very insensitive of me, but all the neighbors were saying that to themselves. The thought of spending, what was turning out to be a very lazy weekend, on the phone with insurance companies, tree removal and contractors didn't appeal to me in the least.
This post can remain somewhat humorous because no one was under the tree. And it wasn't my tree. When I looked out the front door there was a tree strategically place across the street and the neighbors were starting to gather.
"Anyone call 911 yet?"
There were some blank stares and heads shaking no.
"I'll do it." I'm a take charge kind of person and I've called 911 more times then I've cared too.
I told the 911 operator my street name and she said, "Fallen tree across street and no one hurt?"
"Yep."
"We're already on it."
I put my sweatshirt on and congregated with the neighbors, some of us hadn't seen each other since last fall, so it was nice to catch up.
A tree across the main road in a development needs to be removed immediately. You know in case anyone has a heart attack or falls into our lake, an ambulance needs to be able to drive through. The first to arrive was one policeman and a chainsaw. Boy #2 informed me later that he was using the chainsaw wrong and it could have kicked back at him. As the policeman cut pieces of the tree off, the neighbors all jumped in to clear the street. It's great to have good neighbors. And I stood their wondering if I had time to get my camera to take a picture for when I blog about this. I didn't want to spoil the moment of neighborhood camaraderie, so I stayed put, didn't want to miss any gossip either.

Ice Cream Truck Traffic

How many Ice Cream Trucks does a development need? I've counted three meandering through our neighborhood already and it's only April. They all have a different jingle. I get one jingle unstuck in my head and another one comes around the corner. I heard two jingles going at the same time, looked out the window and saw an Ice Cream Truck parade. Does this mean my development looks like we have money? Does the number of Ice Cream Trucks strolling through ones neighborhood determine ones affluence? We must be rich!

Another Mrs. Kravitz Moment

I'm having a Mrs. Kravitz moment. When your desk is right next to the window that overlooks the neighborhood you can't help but notice things. You can call me a nosey neighbor I suppose. But when is my neighbor across the street going to take her Christmas wreath down off her front door? It's starting to bother me. We had, just last week, unseasonably warm temperatures. Most of the neighborhood was busy taking down their holiday decorations. Maybe the neighbor across the street forgot the wreath was there. They use their garage to go in and out of the house. See how observant I am? Don't you wish you lived across the street from me? Oh, look at that a police car just went flying by with it's siren on. I have to go crane my neck to see what's happening.

There is a Dead Deer Across the Street Laying Next to the Fire Hydrant

There is a dead deer across the street laying next to the fire hydrant. Just when I was wondering what I was going to blog about today I hear a thump outside my office window. Here is how the story unfolds so far, because if there is a dead deer laying across the street next to the fire hydrant, it isn't over.

While trying to generate traffic to my blogs I hear a thump. I'm situated just so in my home office that I get a clear view of the neighborhood without having to leave my computer. I'm Mrs Kravitz from Bewitched. But the thump would make anyone curious. I saw a deer stumble to the grass and fall. It tried to get up, but couldn't. I recognized the driver that stopped, one of Boy #2's friends, so I went outside. He started to walk towards the deer and the mother in me says,

"Don't get close to it!"

I brought him in the house and we called the non-emergency police.

Boy #2's friend said, "I'm going to go out and wait."

"Okay." I replied, "Hey, it was nice seeing you again."

This is when Boy #3 expressed some interest in the whole incident. With our noses pressed up to the window, we watched the police come and start talking to Boy #2's friend. We saw them start to walk towards the deer and then the policeman stopped and Boy #2's friend walked back to his car. See he must have told him not to get close to it too! The policeman stood over the deer for a few minutes. The deer was still trying to get up. We think the policeman was talking on a walkie-talkie. Boy #3 and I took our eyes off the drama that was unfolding in our front yard to question the voice of authority, the husband.

"They have to put it out of it's misery, how would they do that?"

That's when we heard the unmistakable sound of a actual gunshot in our front yard.

"Whoooa! Oh My God!"

"City girl." says the husband.

So there is a dead deer across the street laying next to the fire hydrant. I would like to think there is a plan for dead deer removal in our community, it isn't the first time a deer has been hit by a car around here, just the first time we've had a front seat view.

Yep, it's still out there.