Now I have something a little too exciting to report. A little bit ago I was waiting for the little man’s school bus to return, sitting on the front porch as I often do. Our street is a fairly quiet one. So I thought it highly unusual when a caravan of five vehicles turned up
on my block, slowing down to park one right after the other in front of my house. It was not unlike the partygoers in Swingers (a bunch of guys who follow each other, going from party to party in L.A., but refuse to carpool). But unlike Vince Vaughn and friends, these guys didn’t look money. They looked scary…emerging from their vehicles fully armed, wielding some very big guns. And instead of swank suits, baby, they were outfitted with bulletproof vests. I stared at them, my jaw hanging open, as they shouted commands at one another and slunk their way up the street, with a canine unit in tow. Not two minutes later the school bus pulled up, plowing through this pocket of surreality. I went into fierce mama bear mode, stormed the bus, informed the driver of the situation (thankfully there weren’t any other kids aboard, ours is the last stop), and quickly ushered my cub into the house. But not before casting a wary glance up the block just in time to catch sight of a big white guy with his hands behind his head (I know all of our immediate neighbors, as in those whose properties surround ours, but that one is just too far over). Once safely inside I called Zophia, relating this info and including a tidbit about a fire up the block over the weekend, in that same general area. She’s helpfully suggested that we might have a meth lab in our midst. And just when my adrenaline rush was subsiding. Gee, thanks.
