Neighbors

The people who live next door to my house have a giant truck that they park in our shared driveway. They also have a little, decorative bench on their baby-sized porch, and it is in constant use by the family. At various times during the day, one can see: a pubescent teenage girl, a middle-aged women, or (my personal favorite) an on-his-way-to-obesity man with a salt and pepper beard. Any one of these people can often be glimpsed sitting on the dainty white bench throughout the day, and either (A). talking on a cell phone or (B). staring. Both options are disconcerting to the viewer, but the staring wins by a teeny nudge of added uncomfortable.

This morning, some friends picked me up from my house, and Near Obese Man was occupying the bench doing (B).staring, and one of my friends asked me if he was a real person.

He was sitting very, very still.

During October, someone was giving hayrides up and down Ivanhoe. At first, I didn't believe that it was true, even though I heard the tractor rumbling past my window every half-hour, but then I peeked through my blinds, saw the hayride and took a picture of it for posterity.