Week 35

A group of teenagers -- young thugs, if you will -- were spied by a retired neighbor walking down our street. He observed them unobtrusively from a safe distance, and his vigilance was rewarded. He watched as they casually strolled along, then one of them broke from the rest of the pack and darted up to the large tree in our front yard. He picked up a bag (of what sort I have yet to determine), then rejoined his ilk and they continued their so-called "walk." Unfortunately, our neighbor failed to notify any authorities -- police, immigration, SCI -- no one.

Later that week (it was a Thursday) I stepped outside at 6:34 AM to retrieve the newspaper, as is my daily wont. A wave of dread washed over me. Something was out of place. It was one of those feelings; call it intuition if you must.

And then I saw. Right at the end of my driveway were two bicycles. One was standing and the other was on its side, as if the rider had abandoned it in haste. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. This was not the norm. This was not Woodmont. My wife and I had just walked down that very drive the previous night on a constitutional with our two hounds. I remember it was approximately 8:30 PM, but I neglected to check my watch since at the time I did not understand the import. I am quite certain the bicycles were not there at the time. I would have stepped on them, or my always-alert wife would have commented.

I was not going to make the same mistake twice. For form's sake I next notified Darien. Perhaps this was an error, since precious minutes were lost. It was only then that I called the police and told them about the disruption in our lives. The receptionist (she did not identify herself as a sworn officer, although she well could have been) questioned me sharply. I felt there were things she could not tell me, that were outside her professional ethos to disclose, but it was clear from the strain and excitement in her voice that there were larger issues of concern here. I gave a precise account of events, including position of the objects and the time I discovered them and why I happened to be there at precisely that moment. I confirmed that the owners of this suspect property were completely unknown to me.

The receptionist thanked me profusely. I offered to testify at any trial or grand jury investigation. I did decline police protection. There are always risks in life, and some are higher than others. In this case I felt a moral, a civic obligation to stand on my own that at its Churchillian core is selfless. I am willing to risk all for the larger social good.

It is obvious that something is happening in our once idyllic neighborhood. There is some as yet unidentified change that is being driven by large and shadowy outside forces I do not yet understand. Gangs? Drug cartels? International terrorists? Republicans? There are no clear answers at the moment. But be assured: I am on guard.

Go Dodgers!

Week 34

As part of our adventures in renovating, I visited the ReStore store for the first time. It is one of many run by Habitat for Humanity and is like a Goodwill for builders. They have an amazing number of things there. Most of it is not going to be very useful to us, but I can see us using some things. Our contractor already picked up some things (stove, door) that we are using temporarily as the cabin is getting swapped around.

It is difficult to focus on household chores when one is paralyzed with dread over the thought of summer ending.

Week 33

I took Friday off to spend the day with Darien, a rarity. Even though we spent the whole day running around doing cabin things, it was fun nonetheless. Who would have known what the world of shopping was like? I'm not sure I would have stood up so well if we had been shopping for clothes.

Darien had a long weekend, keeping me occupied and entertained. No wonder she couldn't get to the counter.

Week 32

Darien, Celeste, Elyse, and I went to Washington, D.C., on Saturday. In addition to the Asian and African museums, we also visited the National Museum of the American Indian. It had an extensive display of the works of Fritz Scholder in an exhibition called "Indian/Not Indian." I had only seen a few of Scholder's most popular works prior to this, but seeing such a large representation of his work all in one place was quite impressive. I loved his use of color and form and subject, as well as the irony and the pathos. One quote that stuck with me was his vow never to paint Indians, a reminder to all of us never to say never. I enjoyed his sculpture as much as his paintings. I'm sorry I didn't discover the display earlier in the day. I had to rush at the end because the museum was closing.

Darien is back from vacation and the house is getting back to normal.

Week 31

I have been home alone for a week, waiting for Darien to finish escorting Jody to Minnesota. I have had to fend for myself all week, which I am accustomed to doing, but this week has been particularly challenging. Since we participate in a CSA, every week we automatically get one or two bags of vegetables. What we are given, and how much there is, depends on what is in season and how the weather conditions have affected the crops. This week we received small potatoes, large and cherry tomatoes, several variety of melon, and green beans.

Generally, a week's take will support a small family. Darien and I don't usually have a problem, since we eat so many vegetables anyway. But without her to carry her share of the load, I have been sorely challenged to consume everything on my own. I'm doing mostly alright, with veggie-laded lunches and dinners.

The tomatoes are the worst, however. Not only have I had to contend with ten or so good sized toms and a bag of cherry tomatoes, but I came home from vacation to find our own tomato plants are starting to produce. Basically, I've been eating two tomatoes a day, not counting all the cherry tomatoes I'm consuming from both the CSA and our own garden. If I were more domestic, I would be freezing and canning, but I'm finding it easier to more or less consider them as apples or other fruits. So far, none have spoiled, and I only have to get through another 15 hours or so before Darien arrives home to back me up.

The kitchen counter is remaining amazingly clean -- maybe even looking a little better. Good job, Darien. Going for three weeks with a clean counter must be some sort of record. You are doing an excellent job of keeping your New Year's resolution.

You'll have to excuse me, now. I think I'll go eat a tomato for dessert.