I live in a pretty nice place at the end of a cul-de-sac with a nice big back porch that butts right up against a treeline separating our property from… whatever is behind us. Not sure what it is because the treeline is wide enough to hide it. All in all, it gives us at least the illusion of privacy and seclusion.
However, that illusion was broken one day when I saw some creepy old lady walking slowly along that treeline. I could just barely see her white head bobbing along above the floor of our porch. Her creepiness was only heightened the next day when Steve saw her going by and she looked over and waved at him. He saw her from inside our house, mind you, not while he was outside sitting on the porch. My opinion, if you’re going to go creeping along behind people’s houses, you should at least have the decency to pretend you can’t see inside said houses.
Curious at what she could possibly be doing back there, I did a bit of creeping of my own the last time she walked by. I saw her tottering along with a well-matched short, rotund dog waddling slowly at her side. But I still think it’s creepy to be walking a dog behind people’s houses instead of along a well-established road or trail.
Speaking of old ladies, I have a confession: I drive like one when I have Kara in the car with me. Driving has always scared me, at least a little, and now that I have a tiny person as a passenger it scares me even more. The other night, I was on my way home, on unfamiliar back roads in the dark. When I slowed to take a left turn, I slowed down more than I really had to, and was rewarded by the sound of a loud, long honk from the car behind me as he drove past.
Let’s visit the purpose of a car’s horn, shall we? Unless you’re in New York, its purpose is to warn of impending destruction (or to get a car moving at a stoplight), not to convey a slight irritation with another driver. When I hear a car horn, my first instinct is to slow or stop and look in every direction to see where the car or person is that I’m about to hit. So honking at me for going too slow is incredibly counterproductive. Just so you know.
We “play” on her little floor gym, she sits in her swing, we do tummy time, etc. until her next feeding. Then she’s awake but no longer happy to be awake until the next feeding, and then she sleeps the day away until her evening fussy time, when her daddy takes over. This schedule has, for the last few days at least, been giving me time to have a nap and do some housework in the middle of the day.
Free Is a Lark 