We started this weekend on Friday. Call it, a three-day weekend. After things being so quiet for nearly a month, everything seemed to arrive, or happen, in the last three days. Sorry it’s long, I even left some out, to reduce the reading.

I felt sorry for the young lady

Friday mid-morning, I see a medium-sized dog out near the fence, it is one of those “cattle dogs” I call them, very pretty, with a multi-colored long hair coat, two different color eyes. It was dragging its lease behind it. I asked our good neighbor if she knew the owner. She directed me to a trailer 3 doors down. When I arrived there, another neighbor let the dog inside the dog owners trailer. As I was leaving, a decent looking, newer model car pulled up, there was a nice truck parked there as well. A female of about age 22 exited from the drivers side, and a good sized country boy came rushing out of the passenger side, with his belt in his hand, screaming he’ll kill that F*ing dog. Apparently, he is an unhappy individual.

Neither one of them look like they belong here, probably just starting out in life with this rental. The girl is running behind him telling him to stop. As he rushed past me, intent on beating his dog, my first thought was to say something. Then I reminded myself, I am 65 years old, and the young man may injure himself while beating me to a squishy pulp. Only option I would have to stop the beating, would be to shoot him, to survive, and that would be really noisy. I did stand around on the roadway listening. Had he started beating the dog, I would’ve called the county, and had him put in jail for the weekend. I felt sorry for the young lady. He probably knocks her around too.

The Roofer? Seems the local law knows him.

I spoke of the moonlighting roofer we hired, to repair the roof. He had not shown up by late Saturday morning(his third day), and when I checked by calling his number, he had gotten two tickets the night before while leaving here, no tag light, no insurance. Then his tire blew out, so he was trying to locate a used tire.  I wondered why he would be stopped for just a tag light in these parts. Seems the local law knows him, 2 time prison inmate, (rape and theft). Plus the fact that the vehicle he is driving, is some type of older Ford Bronco. I can’t really tell, as there are not enough parts on it, to make a good guess. I had not noticed it parked on the street till this day. You feel as if you need a Tetanus shot to stand close to it. True, he didn’t have any tag-light, he also didn’t have much front end, the moon-roof was totally missing, and parts here and there were gone. Two tires had wire visibly protruding from the tire, I was afraid if I stared too hard, one of them might pop. I wanted to get a picture of it, but not be rude. Only in Alabama, can you drive a vehicle that drops parts, as it goes.

Bet you won’t do that again…

We had company over, and wound up parking our vehicle out further in the yard. When everyone left, I was too lazy to move the car. Apparently, before daylight, someone decided to take a shortcut through the yard this morning, and ran over the huge railroad tie that I border the yard with. I think it probably was the lady that comes by at 6am to meet the school bus, and fusses because we stopped her from cutting through the yard. It had to be a shock, driving over something that size in the dark.

 

 

A haunted riding mower?

David, who most of you know as the handy man for the park, came by, just in time for his faithful transport, to die out in the yard. So you finally get to see a picture of the mower with no real muffler, and not many parts either. After taking the picture, I had to laugh to myself. There in the picture, next to the rear wheel, is what many call an “orb”, maybe it was the mowers spirit leaving it. He named it “The Boss” which he has on the side of the hood.  I politely declined his offer to re-do the patching he applied to the roof. He was complaining that the law was threatening to jail him, if he continued to ride on the highway to the store.

You’ll have to speak up. I can’t hear you over the chewing.

The daughter, of the gentleman we are buying the trailer from, dropped by to see if Michelle could check her son’s ear that was hurting him. Now this is the 16-year-old kid that loves YouTube. Nice kid, a little challenged, but polite. I guess since Michelle helps people with their animals when they need something simple, or advice, they thought she could maybe see something. After all, not many people keep an Otoscope handy.

Michelle starts looking in his left ear, remarking about how clogged up it was, with wax. As she moves around to the right  ear, she is suggesting his mother take him to a doctor and get them cleaned right. About that time, Michelle squeals and utters a couple choice words. She has discovered something black, actually moving, inside beyond a wax encrusted area. Michelle says there are also little holes that appear to have been eaten out of the canal wall, like insects do wood.

The boy is calm, as if someone had remarked about a dirty spot on his face.  He comes over to where I am sitting on the couch, to show me the millionth YouTube video. The only thing going through my mind, was a scene from a Star Trek movie, where they put some big slug looking worm in Kirk’s ear. Meanwhile, Michelle ls telling the mother, that they might want to get him to the ER, or to a doctor as soon as possible, to avoid damage to the ear drum by whatever it is.

The mother says she will take him maybe tomorrow. Now this occurred Friday night, it is now Monday morning. I ask him if it hurts real bad, he says it’s mostly the tickling that bothers him, besides the hurting. Did I mention challenged ? Make that a challenged duo. I’d be freaking out. So being the sarcastic fun guy I am, I look at her and say, “Run him buy the car-wash up the road, stick that spray wand in his ear, squeeze the handle, that ought to rid him of the creature. Only $1.25 vs $75 for the ER”. Michelle gave me a dirty look.

There was a little more, but this is long enough. I hate to bore readers.

Comments always welcome,

 

There are some good, and some bad trailer parks that a person could live in. This one? A movie title sums it up, “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”.

We are located on the very front of the park, next to one of the 3 small entrances to the park. Our double wide sits with the end where my office is, facing the main highway. Looking out our front door across our yard 20 feet, you’re facing the narrow gray gravel street into the park. The gray gravel is another story, altogether.

I like to come into the office around 5 or 5:30 am, boot up the computer/s, sit and have a cup of hazel-nut coffee, and relax. There is nothing to see, as it is still dark outside this time of year. The only light is a soft blue glow of two illuminated keyboards on the desk. Just enough light to keep me from tripping over something. I leave the monitor off, until I’m ready, because of its harsh light.

“What aren’t flakes, are fruits and nuts”.

It’s quiet this time of morning, perfect time to relax for a bit as the world wakes up. You grab it while you can, here in the cereal bowl. We call it that, because it’s the easiest way to describe the occupants out here, “What aren’t flakes, are fruits and nuts”.

Then, someone stirs the bowl.

At 5:20 am or so, whoopee man comes to the exit out front, presumably, to go to work. He earned his nickname from me, because his souped up, redneck, loud truck, sounds like a gigantic whoopee cushion that some giant just sat on. If you live in these parts, and don’t have loud Flow-Master exhaust, your nobody. At 5:30 am Thumper comes by. What kind of upbringing teaches you to play thumping music, as you drive through your neighborhood before daylight.

5:45 am, All is quiet for a short time, unless David has awakened, with a craving for coffee down the road at the convenience store. Yes, there it is, the unmistakable blat, blat, blat sound of his Frankenstein Mower. No muffler and firing about every third revolution, with the occasional backfire for good measure. At least it has headlights, of a sort.

At 6 am, the lady in the red car pulls up right on time, to drop her grand daughter off for the loud school bus with the hideously bright white and yellow strobe lights on top. I don’t think I will ever get a Christmas card from her. I stopped her from driving through my yard to get to the mailboxes, it had made a huge muddy rut, before we moved in here.

It’s like a choreographed play, repeating itself over and over. Everyone knows their part, you can nearly set your watch by them. Or, I’m stuck in the movie of Groundhog Day, along with Bill Murray. At least I’m not wrapped in a blanket, living under some bridge. There are many, far less fortunate than I. 

The World, is not on fire, calm down.

Plus the surprises, and entertainment can be a gold mine. Imagine raking up your leaves, and burning them in a small pile at the time. Next thing you know, you have 15+ vehicles all around your house, along with firetrucks. Including the Chaplain truck, I still haven’t figured that one out. Last rites for the leaves? Someone, thought the world was on fire and reported smoke, so every volunteer fire-fighter for miles around races to a 2-foot wide pile of leaves. Thus, they each get $30+ from the government for “calling out”. 

At least the last couple months have been quiet in the park, no police chases, no fights, no fires. The surrounding areas? Insane. Of course, Spring is just around the corner, that’s when they thaw out and come back to life.

Comments always welcome,