First My Frog, Now My Pumpkin

 Hi, Friends.

Long time, no blog! There's been quite a lot going on in my life. If you know me, then you already know. Heck, if you follow me on social media at all then you already know, too. I'm not going into it again here.

We have more important things to discuss. Like my pumpkin.

It snowed here last night for the first time this winter. I'm not a fan of snow -- "chunky rain" as I call it. I will grudgingly admit that it is pretty at first. Otherwise I'm over it. 

So, this morning I went outside to take the obligatory First Snow! pictures that people post every year. (You can find them on my Instagram if you're really curious.) It was all going well until I got around to the front of the house and saw this:

And we'll have Halloween on Christmas

That's actually what I was going to post on Instagram, until I took a second look.

Yeah. I did not leave my pumpkin in the street. It had been very happily chilling on my front steps with my four other pumpkins since Halloween.The other four were still on the steps. (I've brought them inside now. It's time for them to go take a rest until next year.)

The carved pumpkins came in after Halloween. The green circle denotes where my pumpkin had been living.

The pumpkins are foam. Just felt the need to explain that I didn't have slowly decaying pumpkins as decor to welcome people to my home.

As you can see, Road Pumpkin was right side up in the street. If it was the wind then I would have expected to be chasing Road Pumpkin and its brethren all over the street, scooping them off of the neighbors' lawns and bringing them home. Nor do I think it was the neighborhood wildlife. We have a lot of critters around here. Maybe I'm not giving them enough credit, but I'm pretty sure they would have just knocked the pumpkin off the steps and rolled it around. 

No. This reminds me of the morning back in my May when my guitar-playing frog solar light was found busking in the road.

He was really quite talented. Clearly had a fan.

He had been happily living on the side of my front lawn, a spot he had hung out in for multiple summers without ever feeling the need to stretch his legs and take his talents on the road.

Sadly, he is no more. After his exciting adventure in the world of busking, something or someone stepped on him and cracked his light. Rest in peace, buddy. 

The point of all this, Friends, is that I don't know what the hell is going on. I could see someone wandering down the street and deciding to be an ass and move guitar frog in May when it's relatively warm out. Who the hell goes wandering the streets on the night it snows for the first time and moves a single pumpkin? Like nothing else on the entire street seems out of place.

And the only other time anyone has touched my pumpkins at all, ever, was a few years ago. A less than sober gentleman was stumbling his way down the street one fine autumn evening. He was mad about something, picked up one of my pumpkins and tried to smash it on the ground while yelling, "Stupid pumpkin!" He was very confused when the pumpkin did not smash, but bounced. He did this for several minutes, as I was inside contemplating whether or not I should call the police. Eventually he gave up, waved his hands in defeat and staggered off down the road. But even the drunk guy left the pumpkin on my lawn! He was totally going to smash it, but was polite enough to do it on the lawn and not on my sidewalk.

So let me hear your best guess! 

Super talented wild life that can gingerly pick up the foam pumpkin by its small stem top and deposit it standing upright in the street? 

Random animal knocked it off the steps and it just so happened to roll into the road and land upright?

Someone is messing with me, but they are taking their time and only messing with my lawn decor once every six months?

A very, very precise wind blew through and only moved that one pumpkin off of the front steps?

I'm all ears for your ideas.

Loose Ends

Hey, Friends.

So, I thought maybe I should try to wrap up events from my last post...as much as possible.

We'll start with the very sad and disturbing events surrounding my neighbor, Walt. If you don't remember that story just go back one post. I'm sure you can handle scrolling on your own without a link to it.

First, thank you to everyone who had any kind of advice for me. I truly do appreciate all of it. Probably not going to get a dog (Jazz-kitty would not be happy about that idea), but I'm not going to say it will never happen. An alarm system is most definitely in the works, so if you have a recommendation (Simplisafe is already on the list) please let me know.

I went to Walt's funeral last week. I felt like I needed to be there to say goodbye, but also to apologize again in my own way for not having thought to check in on him. Everyone has told me that it wasn't my fault, that there was nothing I could have done, etc. Logically I know this, but he was right next door.  And I mean right next door.

This is the view from my dining room window. That's Walt's car and his house.

There really is no "just try not to think about it" option, since I see it any time I'm at home. His family and friends have been there cleaning out the house. I don't know if they plan to sell it or not -- apparently it was their childhood home. I can't even imagine how hard this has been on his sisters. One of them told me he had pushed everyone away the last couple of years, just shut them right out. If I feel bad about not having checked on him I can only imagine how it must be bothering them.

I still don't really know why the police had asked if I had heard any gunshots, and I probably never will know. As much as I hope it had nothing to do with Walt, I'm not sure that an alternative reason would be much better. 

I think this is probably as much of an ending as this sad event is ever going to get. I'm certainly not going to pester his family with questions, and I don't know that they have any answers either. I have let them know that I will do whatever I can to help.

The rest of this post is mostly going to be photos of High Banks Preserve, and a couple from Esopus Meadows Preserve. 

I know, Friends. You're probably wondering what the hell the one has to do with the other. I considered making a separate post about High Banks with the pictures, but it's all kind of connected in my brain. I had been out hiking and enjoying the beautiful weather, and Walt was....well, you know. The two events are indelibly linked in my memory. I don't want to bore you with too much navel-gazing and dwelling on it. The best explanation I've come up with for myself is that I went from the one thing right into the next so quickly. I went hiking to enjoy the beauty of the world, to relax and get away from all the constant bad news, and came home to a harsh slap of tragedy. Feel free to analyze away, Friends. Let me know if you come up with anything.

Let's end this with the pictures. I'm going to try to remember that while there are bad things that happen to good people (poor Walt), and the news is a constant barrage of horrible things happening all over the world, the world is still a beautiful place. Find that beauty -- whatever it may be to you -- and embrace the hell out of it. Enjoy life. Make the most of it. 

Hudson River from High Banks Preserve

Autumn leaves on the trail

It had rained earlier

Some parks have power lines, this one had a gas line

There were a few pine cones

Mountain view

Esopus Lake

The Hudson River from Esopus Meadows Preserve

Esopus Meadows Preserve. That's the lighthouse in the background.

Oh No

Hey, Friends.

So, I have a story to tell you. It's kind of long, and it might ramble a bit. I'll try my best to keep it in order and coherent. I'm warning you up front that it's not a happy story, and it doesn't have a good ending. Basically, don't read it if you don't want to be bummed out. You've been warned.

It all started back on Thursday morning. I was at home, and I noticed a guy walking up and down my neighbor Walt's driveway. I didn't think anything of it at first. I thought maybe it was Central Hudson coming to read his electricity meter, or someone that was coming to do work on his house.

A few minutes later there is a knock on my front door, and it's the guy I had seen walking around Walt's yard. He tells me he's friends with Walt, but since he got sober a couple years ago he hadn't really hung out with him since Walt still drinks. Understandable. He had stopped by to visit, but had become concerned when he saw Walt's mail hadn't been taken in for a few days.

We went outside to look at Walt's house. I told him I hadn't seen him in a week or so. That's not unusual. I really only ever saw him if he was getting home from work when I was leaving in the morning, or if we both happened to be out in the yard working at the same time. I knew he had been parking on the street in front of his house because he seemed to be having a lot of trouble walking the last time I had seen him, and that would be the easiest way to get into the house.

His friend proceeded to tell me that Walt had cancer, and he had undergone a few surgeries on his leg to have things removed. I had no idea. He had never mentioned it to me at all. He told me he had tried calling, but that Walt wasn't answering the phone. Apparently that didn't surprise him in the slightest. He said Walt was kind of a hermit. He wouldn't answer the phone if he didn't feel like talking to anyone, and he could be sitting in the house and wouldn't answer the door if he didn't feel like having a visitor. The mail not having been brought in was concerning him.  We went to check his garbage can and see if he had brought anything out. I honestly couldn't remember if he had brought the cans down for pick up this past Monday or not. I told him I hadn't seen him coming or going to work recently, and thought he might have retired. He told me he left his job a while back because of his health issues.

He was worried enough that he was going to call Walt's sister. He was considering calling the police to do a goodwill/healthcare check on him, but he didn't feel like it was his place. I promised I would keep an eye out for him, see if I saw any lights on in the house at night to at least indicate he was home.

Walt's a very nice man. I never would have considered him a "hermit". He just liked to keep to himself. He was always very friendly when we saw each other, and we would chat. He started, without ever being asked, using his snow blower to clear out the end of my driveway for me in the winter. He'd be getting home from work and have to clear his way into his driveway, so he just started doing mine so I could leave for work. I'd buy him Heineken (his drink of choice) as a thank you gift. He also gave me my potentially pilfered presidential flowers because they were running rampant in his yard, and we always chatted about our gardens. He also fed the feral cats in the neighborhood (I do as well), and he had a litter of kittens that were born nearby that he let live in his garage this summer and he took care of them. He's a nice man, is my point.

This brings us to yesterday, Friends.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day outside, and since I was still on vacation I decided to go across the river for a hike. That's originally what this post was going to be about, but I'm going to save that for another time.

I finished my hike and ran a few errands before heading home. I got in the house, fed the outdoor cat who was on the back steps looking for food. I was wandering through the house, opening all of the doors and windows to let in the fresh air. I opened the front door, and saw this:

Ignore my Halloween decor

What the hell is going on? There were now 2 police cars parked in front of my house, and they literally were not there 5 minutes ago. Did someone get robbed? Accident on the highway and they parked up here to be out of the way?

So I go outside, and I see a woman with 2 officers standing in front of my neighbor's house. Oh no. Walt!

As I head over to talk to them, the officers head down the driveway toward Walt's back door.

I asked the woman if everything was okay, and she said she hoped so. We introduced ourselves, and it turns out she is Walt's sister.  She told me he wasn't answering the phone or the door, and I told her about the friend looking for him the day before. She confirmed that he had called her. I told her what I had told him -- hadn't seen Walt recently, etc. She said she had called the police to check on him, and then said, "He's kind of a hermit. Doesn't like a lot of people. He's going to be so pissed at me if he's in there just fine and I called the cops on him." She said the cops were trying to find a way in to the house.

The officers came back and asked if everything was okay. I explained that I was Walt's neighbor, just asking what was going on. They asked if I need them to move one of the patrol cars since it was blocking my driveway. I told them it was fine, and went back into my house. I didn't want to be one of those people who stands outside gawking at the scene. Plus, his poor sister didn't need an audience if it turned out to be bad news.

That doesn't mean I wasn't trying to watch from the windows in my house.

It gets dark out pretty early at this point, and a lot of the lights on our street aren't working at the moment. (I just reported them all today. Let's get that shit fixed.) Jazz-kitty is spazzing out in the house, I've got the feral cat curled up and hiding on a rug on my back steps, and I'm just trying to cook dinner and figure out what the hell is going on.

At some point a fire truck and an ambulance arrived.

I see a guy with an ax or a hammer -- some kind of big tool -- walking down Walt's driveway. And then I can hear them breaking down his back door. Oh, God.  This can't be good.

A short while later I noticed that the ambulance had left. Oh, no. What if Walt was really sick and needed help and was stuck in the house? I felt terrible for not having thought to check on him.  And then I saw a guy with a camera walking up Walt's driveway. Maybe they had to take a picture of the damage done to his door?

All the lights in Walt's house were on now. I turned on my front porch light, since they were operating by the headlights of one of the police cars and it was really dark out. They had been there for almost 2 hours at that point, so around 7:30 at night.

I started messaging my friend (and neighbor) down the street, as I had seen that she had been outside earlier. I said that I thought something bad had happened to Walt. She said she thought he had passed away. She saw the officers tell the woman outside something, and she said "Oh no!" really loudly.

And then she told me all of this stuff about our neighborhood that I had no clue had happened. Like before I moved in, I guess there used to be people who hung out and slept in the little wooded area just beyond Walt's house. They would yell and throw things at people. She saw them when she was walking her dog, and they would get scared and run away.

She also said all kinds of people come wandering through our neighborhood now. She always sees a purse, or a piece of clothing just thrown by the side of the road. How have I not noticed any of this? I walk around the neighborhood on occasion when it's nice out and I have never noticed any of this. Not giving me a case of the warm fuzzies, Friends.

So I text my friend because, what the fuck. I'm kind of bugging out in my house while all of this is going down, and he knows how interesting my neighborhood can be.

I'm still kind of hoping that Walt just had to be taken to the hospital at this point. Not looking good, as why would the police still be there three hours later, but I was hoping.

I was still messaging my neighbor, texted my Mom to tell her what was going on. She stops by my house frequently while I'm at work. Maybe she had seen Walt more recently than I had. Nope.

Eventually I get a knock on my door with the announcement that it's the town police. I was kind of expecting that.

The officer said he had an unusual question for me. Had I heard any gunshots recently?

Gunshots?!

I know I must have looked shocked, because that was not what I thought he was going to ask. I assumed it was going to be more like: did I know Walt? Had I seen him recently? When did I last remember seeing him, etc.

I told him no, but I would be a bad judge of that anyway. Gunshot, car backfiring on the highway - I honestly don't know that I wouldn't have heard a gunshot and assumed it was something else.

And then I said, "Walt's not okay, is he."

And the officer confirmed that he had passed away.

I said I felt horrible, that I should have checked on him. The officer said not to feel bad, wasn't my fault, and from what he had gathered Walt didn't like many people.

I told him Walt liked me, and the short version of how he would remove the snow from my driveway and I would give him Heineken in return.  The officer said, "Well, there was certainly plenty of that in the house."

Whoa. Alrighty, not going any further down that route.

Apparently the gunshots were not the unusual question. He wanted to know if I had a power drill and screws they could use to secure the back door. I told him I didn't think so, but I could check out in the garage -- I have my brother's tool box in there. (I got it when it didn't make the move to Texas with him.) He told me not to worry about it, he'd ask around.

Screw that. I grabbed a flashlight and went out in my garage to look. Pretty soon the officer joined me. We found a power drill, but no battery to go with it. I had a hammer and some nails, told him he could take whatever he needed. He said they'd find something else.

I went back in the house and then it hit me -- Walt had a bunch of tools in his garage. I remember our neighbor behind us telling me that Walt had lent him some of his power tools once. So I went outside, saw a different officer, and I told him that Walt should have some tools in his garage, that he had lent them out to people before. He told me they had looked but couldn't find anything. That seemed odd.

I went back in the house. I was freaking out a little bit at this point. I felt horrible that Walt had passed away, right next door, and it had never crossed my mind to check on him and see if he was okay. But what the fuck did gunshots have to do with anything? Was Walt murdered? My friend down the street had said she was worried someone had robbed him or something.

So I called my brother. He can totally be helpful from all the way down in Texas!

I tell him the whole saga of what's been going on. First, he said I would know if I heard a gunshot. It does not sound the same as a car backfiring. I would have been able to tell the difference.

And then he made an excellent point: murderers don't normally lock the house up after they kill someone. They just flee the scene. The police had to break down the door. If there were gunshots involved, it was probably because Walt had committed suicide. They were probably trying to establish a timeline.

Oh God.

I mean, I felt better hearing the logic that there probably wasn't a murderer running loose in the neighborhood. But, holy shit. Not making me feel any better about not having checked up on Walt.

We talked about Halloween and some other things. I felt a little better after I got off of the phone with him.  Thanks for being there, Bro!

The police eventually left. I had still been messaging my friend down the street. She told me to keep an eye on Walt's house -- make sure nobody tried to steal his stuff.  On it. That's the least I could do at this point.

A little after 9 pm I hear four loud bangs. Oh hell, no. That better be someone setting off fireworks. We can hear them from everywhere -- Marist has them at times, I can see when Vassar shoots them off from my house, and we can hear them from down by the Hudson River when they have them. I get a message from my friend down the street immediately asking if I had heard that.

Yup. I definitely did. So I take a quick peek at the back of Walt's house, just to make sure no one is trying to get in there. Thankfully the moon was pretty bright last night, so I could see that no one was near his house. It was First Friday in the city of Poughkeepsie last night. Maybe they were shooting off fireworks? That was my hope. Two more bangs, but I can't see any sign of fireworks anywhere.

So I text my friend again. He'll probably know. I'm pretty sure he was probably at First Friday.

And then I tried to distract myself enough for the rest of the evening to be able to attempt to get some sleep. I was super paranoid that every odd sound was someone trying to break into Walt's house, and I just felt bad that I hadn't done anything to help him and had no clue what had happened right next door.

This morning I went out and got the numbers off the streetlights and reported them as being out. After all the stories I heard last night about the crazy shit that has gone down in this neighborhood over the years, I want some damn working lights. 

I saw my neighbor across the street, who was out working in her garden. We discussed what had happened last night, tried to remember the last time either of us had seen Walt. She liked him too. Said he was very nice man, and his mother had been a lovely woman. I barely knew her -- she was sick and passed away not too long after I moved in.

We went over to Walt's together to check the back door -- make sure it looked at least shut and like no one had tried to get inside. It looked okay. Didn't seem like anyone had tried to get in.

And then I was telling her all of the crazy stories I heard last night about what had gone on before I moved in. She said that's why she has an alarm system. She wasn't even going to tell me how many times her house had been broken into over the years.

What the hell.

How can I possibly not know any of this had gone down?! I mean, clearly I couldn't have known about the shit that happened before I bought my house and moved in, but still. I'm a little creeped out, not gonna lie.

Walt's sister is at his house now -- I heard voices in the driveway and went out to see what was happening. I told her I had tried to keep an eye on the house, and that I was so sorry for her loss. She thanked me and let me know that a crew from ServePro would be here today, and possibly Monday as well. I didn't ask any other questions.

I told you, Friends. It wasn't a happy story. 

Goodbye, Walt. I hope you are at peace. I'll think of you every time the lilies in my garden bloom.

Yeah...I'm Not Okay With This

Hey, Friends.

Weird bit of excitement today.  It all started around noontime when a coworker asked me if I had seen what happened near my house.  I had no clue, but I saw he was bringing up an article in the local paper.  Fantastic. What could possibly have happened now?  My top three guesses were:

• Fire of some sort
• Crack house got busted
• Sting operation for allegedly running guns and drugs

Why were those my top 3 guesses?  Because they have all happened on my street since I bought my house 6 years ago.  And before you ask, Friends -- 2 and 3 were separate incidents involving different neighbors. I don't live in a bad area. I swear! However, I think it goes a long way in explaining why I pay attention when I notice weird shit going down in my neighborhood.

What I was not expecting was the story he actually pulled up:

Black Bear Spotted in Town of Poughkeepsie

Yeah.  Read that.  Join in my moment of WTF-ness.

Honestly, I probably wouldn't have believed him if I hadn't read the article myself...from a link that someone else emailed me. It is entirely too bizarre for words.

I find this disturbing for a few reasons -- not the least of which is that they haven't updated the story to say the bear has left the area or, more likely, been hit by a car or shot.  

***BREAKING NEWS***

Sorry for the interruption, Friends.  As I was writing this up last night the power went out. The lights blinked on and off a few times, and then darkness descended.  I finished that last sentence, then turned off the computer.  I lit a candle for a little light in the house, then grabbed my phone and went outside to explore and see how big the power outage was -- hoping it wasn't just like my house, or me and one other house.  

It was odd.  We weren't having a storm of any kind with winds that should have done any damage.  I hadn't heard any loud noises -- like a transformer blowing, or an accident nearby that hit a pole.  This was about 10 pm last night.

So I'm strolling the neighborhood in my pajamas, doing my own little survey of how big the outage appears to be.  My entire street is definitely out. Streetlights and traffic lights on the highway are out, and that's really bad as there are accidents there all of the time even when the lights are working. A large chunk of Main Street appears to be out as well, but from the top of our hill I can see that a couple blocks over and to the right the lights appear to be on.  Very odd.

I stop to chat with a neighbor who was out to walk her dog briefly.  Another neighbor comes home and tells us she was just at the Pizzeria Uno down the street.  The lights went out there, but they must have a generator because they came back up, but all of the lights everywhere else are out -- so now that's 3 major intersections involving the highway in both directions that are out.

I get the job of calling in the outage to the power company since my phone is the only one fully charged.  They give me an estimated restoration time of midnight, and none of us believe that it will really happen.  We part ways listening to the symphony or car horns and sirens that has begun.

A while later I'm back outside, as there was just a loud crunch like there might have been an accident.  I wander over to take a look at the highway and see if I now need to call 911. I don't see anything, and as I'm wandering back inside it occurs to me that it is probably really stupid to be wandering around in the dark, in my pajamas, with only my phone, because there was a fucking bear in the neighborhood this morning and how did I forget that it could still be wandering around out here with me?  I was literally just writing about it when the power went out!

I bump into yet another neighbor who is out to see what happened.  We chat briefly and this happens:

In related news, a neighbor and I have almost identical pajamas. #PowerOutageDiscoveries

— Tammy (@tammyshampoo) September 15, 2016

Yeah.  So now that half my neighbors have seen me in my pajamas, I decided that I'm just going to stay inside for the rest of the night.  Plus, you know, BEAR IN THE AREA.

Thankfully, around 11:45pm the power came back on.  

***END OF STORY WITHIN THE STORY***

Hi again, Friends.

So after a few hours of away time what with the power outage and the need for sleep, we are back. There was a bear, and I think I was about to explain why I was less than thrilled about it.

Before we go any further (and it might really be too late based on what I've written above) I need you to hold up your right hand and swear that none of you will turn into creepy stalkers and try to figure out exactly where I live.  I'm not talking to those of you that I actually know and that have been to my house before -- obviously it's cool and you are welcome.  I'm talking to my unknown Friends here online.  Promise you won't get creepy.  I think this entry alone makes it quite clear I already have enough weird-ass problems going on without adding "stalker" to the list.  It's not that I don't love you, Friends, but I don't need random people stopping by unannounced and making this all strange and unsettling.  If you're ever in the area and just desperately need to hang out with me, I'm sure we can work that out ahead of time and meet for coffee or something.  You know, when it wouldn't be weird and stalker-ish.

Everyone done with their "I'm Not Going To Be A Creepy Stalker" oath?  Fantastic.

First:  I'm worried about the bear itself.  This area is not meant for large wildlife to hang out and chill. The poor thing has to be seriously lost. How the heck did it even manage to get here to begin with? Maybe it wandered down the rail trail from somewhere else, but to get over in my neighborhood it still had to navigate across a lot of busy intersections and major roads.

That's Main Street.  Big intersection right there that always has accidents.  And yes, that would be the Uno's that still had power last night.

This is the intersection on Main Street where the bear was sighted.  

The block in between on Main Street, early on a foggy morning.  I couldn't pictures of everything for you yesterday, so this one is older.

Highway intersection on the other side of my street.  This also had no power last night. As you can clearly see in the picture, people almost hit each other on a regular basis even when the lights are working.

Sunset over Holy Trinity's parking lot last night -- after the bear sighting and before the power outage.

I'm really hoping they catch the bear before he gets himself injured, or causes and accident.  I don't even know if it's a young bear, probably lost and looking for his way home, or a big bear who came in search of food, or what the case may be.  I just hope it doesn't wind up hurt or dead.

Second:  The Interloper.  The Interloper is a feral cat that lives in my neighborhood.  It was born a couple of years after I moved in, and it used to chill in my back yard with it's Mama cat and two siblings.  Sadly, Interloper is the only one left now.  I hadn't seen Interloper for quite a while, but for the past month or so it has taken to hanging out in my back yard or on my back steps.  Most mornings when I wake up and go into the kitchen, I can see Interloper sitting up and looking at me through the back door of the porch, and giving me sad eyes and looking hungry.  Needless to say, I have now begun giving Interloper breakfast every morning.  That's how Interloper got its name.  Jazz-kitty is all cool with other cats walking around outside -- she just watches from the windows.  She never growls, or puffs up or anything.  As soon as the food started going out the door in the morning?  Jazz-kitty was not a fan of that happening. That's her food and she really didn't want to be sharing it with some unknown, outdoor menace.  Jazz follows me onto the back porch each time, and then sits in the window and glares daggers at the Interloper while it eats.  

The point of all that: I'm worried about The Interloper accidentally having a run in with the bear.  I don't even want to think about what would happen, and I really don't want to find an injured Interloper in my yard one morning that will have to go to the vet.  (I can report that Interloper was just here for breakfast this morning, looking fine and dandy.)

Third:  The advice in the article is ridiculous! I know they don't really have anything else they can say, but it is so totally dumb in this situation.

"Cleaning outdoor grills after use, removing bird feeders, and not leaving pet food outside are all ways to limit bear encounters. Garbage cans should be kept inside in a secure area and placed outside the morning of pick up."

I'm sorry, but that is the least of your problems in my neighborhood.  I don't think the bear wandered over here because of my neighbor's grill, or a bird feeder, or the empty cat bowl The Interloper uses. As I was discussing with the coworker who showed me the article, the residents are the least likely to be attracting the bear.

In that little stretch of a couple of blocks on Main Street, in either direction, there are a shit ton of better options for a hungry bear than a bird feeder.  We tried to name all of them.

Wendy's, Taco Bell, Dunkin Donuts, KFC, at least 2 bars, 2 convenience stores, 2 Mexican restaurants, a Chinese restaurant, a pizzeria, Noshi's Coney Island Hot Dogs, a Vietnamese restaurant, Pizzeria Uno's, and the Acropolis Diner.  That's not even counting all of the restaurants in the area that run the length of a busy cross street.  If the bear is hungry, it has much better options than someone's grill or a bird feeder.  

Fourth:  I really don't need to meet the bear face to face.  I don't want it to get hurt, but I also don't want to encounter a pissed off or scared bear and end up getting mauled.  That's the stuff for nightmares and movies, and until yesterday I didn't think it would actually be possible in my neighborhood.  

So, that's what has been going on in my little corner of the world, Friends.  We've had a lot of excitement in the last 24 hours.  Today seems pretty normal so far, so let's hope it stays that way.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a good, bear-free day!

My Flowers Have a Story

Hi there, Friends.

So, I was out in the garden yesterday morning, watering the flowers, when I came to a surprising discovery:  some of my flowers are taller than I am.

Yeah, I literally did wake up like this, and you can tell by my hair.

I'm not that short.  Some of these flowers have to be getting close to 6 feet tall! Made me feel a little like Alice in Wonderland.  

Maybe a different perspective will help.

My flowers are special.  No, not just because they are so tall -- most lilies get pretty tall.  And no, not just because I grew them in my garden.  These flowers are special because they were a gift, and they have history...

...and there may or may not have been a crime involved.....

but that would have happened over 30 years ago, and all of the participants involved are no longer with us, which makes me think it is safe to tell the tale. 

Hopefully not incriminating evidence

My street literally has the word "cliff" in its name.  Not surprisingly, it can be very hard to garden. Some spots in the yard are okay.  Other times Most of the time I can dig down about an inch before hitting solid rock.  Between the rock and the neighborhood critters -- woodchucks, deer, and rabbits to name a few -- it becomes quite the challenge to get anything to grow.

My neighbor, on the other hand, seems to have no issues.  He has gorgeous flowers, and his vegetables never seem to get munched with the same frequency as mine.  Granted, he has been here many, many more years than I have so he probably has this down to a science.  I've tried to copy his methods, but they don't seem to work as well for me.

A couple years ago he happened to be out working in his yard at the same time I was working on my garden.  He had one particular type of flower that was growing like crazy -- trying to take over his whole garden.  He had removed several of the plants, and he asked if I would like to have them.

Hell yes!  I will be more than happy to take them!  If they can grow that well next door then I should have a fighting chance of getting them to grow in my yard.  This was awesome.

I have managed not to kill them so far

And then he told me the story of the flowers, Friends.

When I bought my house, my neighbor and his mother both lived next door.  It is his family home.  I never got to meet his mother and only ever saw her briefly.  She was ill, and passed away not too long after I moved in.  

Apparently she and my neighbor's aunt were both avid gardeners.  They loved growing new and different types of flowers.  If they saw a plant somewhere that they really loved they would often ask for a clipping to take home and try to grow.

These flowers, according to my neighbor, are a bit different.  

Apparently his mother and his aunt had been touring over at Franklin D. Roosevelt's estate in Hyde Park, and they fell in love with these flowers.  This was over 30 years ago, according to my neighbor. He didn't know if they had asked for clippings and been denied or what the entire story was, but apparently they went back at some point and took some flowers.  Like under cover of darkness, just went back and pilfered some presidential flowers.  They had been growing in his yard ever since.  

Stolen goods....kinda, sorta

Now, I've been to FDR's estate several times since my neighbor gave me these flowers.  I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that before today it never even crossed my mind to see if my flowers were on the grounds.  Maybe it was because I was there to tour the library and home, or it was the wrong season for flowers. The idea piqued my curiosity and wouldn't leave my brain.

Since I was writing this up, I decided I should take a ride over to Franklin and Eleanor's place and see if I could find the flowers.  It would be a long shot.  A lot of things have probably changed in the last 30+ years.  I was hopeful, but realistically there were a lot of reasons they might not be there:

1. The weather could have destroyed them over the years.
2. Building projects may have caused them to be removed.
3. Curator preference.
4. Maybe they weren't historically accurate.

At any rate, it was worth the effort to go and find out.  The things I do for you, Friends.

I decided to start in the garden, as that seemed like the best bet.

Close, but not the same

More lilies, but still not right

The garden was lovely

And so, after walking the property and around all of the buildings, my search turned up empty.  There were a lot of beautiful flowers, but none of them were the same as the ones in my yard.

Do my flowers have presidential roots?  You can decide for yourselves, Friends.  I choose to believe that they do.  I can't imagine my neighbor would make up such a tale about his mother and his aunt potentially having committed a crime.  

Even if they aren't, I still think they are special.  They were a gift, and they have the magical ability to make me feel like Alice in Wonderland.

Happy New Year....Maybe?

Happy New Year, Friends!

I know it hasn't been 2016 too terribly long, but I hope it's going well for you so far. Mine's been pretty good, lots of room for improvement though.  That's what the New Year is for, right?  A fresh start.  365 days to fill with new adventures.  Maybe I'll travel to some exotic locale.  Maybe this will be the year I finally find someone who will put up with me get a boyfriend.  Sky's the limit!

I'd like you to join me in a game I am currently playing, Friends.  You don't have to do anything but keep reading.  It's a lazy person's game (also works if you are hungover.  I don't know what all you got up to last night).  All you have to do is sit around and ponder the possibilities.  Sound good? Excellent! Because that's what we are doing.

Friends, allow me to introduce you to a game I am calling:

What's Up With the Neighbors?

How To Play:  I will provide you with the meager amount of evidence I have, and then we will think of all the things that might be going on.

Why Are We Doing This:  Because we can.  Because I am bored of playing it by myself and decided to share my fun imaginary game.  Because Jazz-kitty woke me up way too early to get her breakfast.  I also might be procrastinating on starting to clean the house.  All valid reasons.  

Ready?  Let's begin.

Evidence (aka Flimsy Amount of Details That I Have Gathered):

-- Last night was New Year's Eve.  People celebrate in lots of different ways.  Some people go out and get totally smashed, some go out to a fancy and romantic dinner, some stay at home and have a quiet celebration, some just sleep right through it and don't care.  I have no idea what the neighbors did.

-- My cat is a spoiled brat and woke me up much earlier than I wanted so that I could feed her breakfast.  It was when I went into the kitchen to get her food that I first noticed something was going on at one of the houses nearby. I could hear the music they were playing while I was in my kitchen.

-- There are 2 possible houses that could be the source of the music.  The neighbors in question are usually pretty quiet and keep to themselves.  They are friendly and will chat, don't get me wrong.  I just don't see them outside very often.  They also have a lot of   people who are always around. I'm not really sure how many of them actually live in either house.  I don't pay that much attention.

-- I did not notice anything unusual when I got home last night.  There was no sign of a wild party raging in the near vicinity, no police or emergency vehicles hanging around.  I wasn't drunk and overlooked it, since I drove.  It was cold, and I hurried inside. 

-- Somebody in the neighborhood felt the need to set off fireworks around 1:30 this morning.  I don't know who it was.  I was snuggly warm in bed and trying to sleep, and I chose to stay there hoping it was going to be a short round of holiday craziness.

-- The same song has been playing, on repeat, for almost 2 hours now.  Possibly longer.  I can only vouch for the amount of time I have had to listen to it.  

-- It's the choice of song that really makes this game fun and increases the possibilities.

Aw, yeah...someone had an interesting night!  

Now We Ponder the Possibilities:

1)  Someone had a reallly good time. Like they might still be celebrating and/or reliving the night.

2) Someone is having a moment.  Maybe they can't remember what happened last night.  Or maybe they remember exactly what happened last night and are now in the midst of an existential crisis, trying to come to grips with the situation.

3) Someone passed the hell out with their music on and this song is going to play until they finally wake up and turn it off.  Or someone gets annoyed/concerned enough to call the cops.

4) Their friends dropped their drunk ass off at home, and decided it would be hilarious to leave this song playing for their friend to wake up to in the morning.

5) Someone had a party.  Whomever was in charge of the music left it playing, and now there is no one there who knows how the technology works and they can't turn it off.  

6) They really, really love this song and want to share it with the whole neighborhood.

That's all I've come up with so far.  Join in my game, Friends!  What do you think is going on with my neighbors?  

Right now, I'm just glad I like Jamie Foxx and this song.  It makes the whole thing highly amusing. Other songs could have made this much more worrying, depressing, and/or annoying.  

Happy New Year, Friends.  Hope you are having a great start to the year!  

**Edit:  And just short of the 3 hour mark, the music has stopped.  Well, at least I know whomever it was is alive and functioning.**

In Which I Have a Ridiculous Theory

Hi, Friends.

I know, it's been a while since I bothered to update here.  I suck.  Let's all just agree on that and move on, okay?

So, weird things have been afoot around here lately, and it kind of led me to a ridiculous and totally implausible theory.  It's absolute nonsense, but it amuses me and hopefully will amuse you as well.  Maybe not -- I don't know.  It's a long story, so grab yourself your beverage of choice and snuggle in, because this is going to take a while.  (And if you get bored, stop reading.  I will never know the difference.)

Need a bit more convincing?  The other title I almost went with for this post:  Like I'm Living in a Weird Bermuda Triangle.  Does that make it more enticing?

Let us begin.

My ridiculous theory: I'm starting to think my street has taken on the status of an imaginary place.

Lately, it's almost as if people have collectively decided to pretend that my house, and even my entire street, no longer exists -- or maybe we are under some kind of mystical field that only lets our presence be noted at certain times.  You know, like Hamunaptra in the movie The Mummy, except we are nowhere near as fancy or important.

Let me try to explain the weirdness.  I promise I haven't gone off the deep end.  I just like my crazy theory better than whatever the mundane explanation eventually turns out to be.

It all started with the postal service, of all things.  At first I thought it was just me and that the post office had some secret vendetta against me.  I had been waiting for a few things to come in the mail, and they all should have arrived long ago -- the most important was my car registration and my loan payment book, amongst a few other things.  I eventually got my car registration, and I can't even blame the post office for how long that took.  I'm sure the great state of New York played a role in its delay as well.  My loan book showed up after the first payment was due, and looked like it had come to me via Alaska.  Other things never arrived at all.

I chalked it up to just being a weird glitch in the system.  That was followed by quite a few days where I got absolutely no mail at all.  Nada.  No junk mail, no seasonally popular political mailings, nothing.  I'm not counting the holidays, either.

That might not seem too strange.  It's not.  The weird part was the mail that I did receive.

I have gotten mail addressed to a gentleman who hasn't lived here in over 20 years.  He's not even the previous owner that I bought the house from.  I know he lived here at some point because he wrote his name in the cement in the cellar floor.

He gets mail.  I don't.

I've also gotten mail addressed to a Walgreens pharmacy.  I readily admit my love for Walgreens, and I stop in there way too often.  My house is not now, nor has it ever been, a Walgreens pharmacy.  I also do not live in Freedom Plains, so I really don't understand how this wound up in my mailbox.

Already delivered to a different wrong address!

The address is not even remotely close to mine....well, the part of the address that is even there.  The return address on the back was for some health science lab near Albany.  This I get delivered to my house?  I did not open it, of course.  It's none of my business.  I put it back out so it can continue its magical voyage through the postal system.  Who knows where it has been, or what exciting destination it may visit next!  I just hope it's not something important, like someone's prescription for desperately needed medication.

Side note:  Friends, if your pharmacist tells you that they never received your prescription -- don't bite their head off or assume they are incompetent.  That is doubly true if your prescription is going through the mail.  It might well be on a magical mystery tour of its very own.

Why was this happening?  Had I somehow pissed off the postal service?  I didn't think I had.  I don't get a lot of large, heavy packages delivered.  I participate in their food drives. I even give them homemade cookies at Christmas time!  I'm a freaking awesome customer, damn it.  I did consider filing a complaint with the post office, but did I really want to piss them off?  Things were weird enough already.

I decided to ask one of my neighbors if they were having the same problem.  Friends, if you have been following along on my blog (or Facebook or Twitter) for any amount of time, you know that I have some interesting neighbors, and they like to be very involved in my life.  As the youngest person on my street, I think I somehow became their vicarious form of entertainment when I moved in.  I'm cool with that.  I'd rather have neighbors that are friendly, and chat, and keep an eye out for each other.  

Back to my point....

My neighbor tells me that her mail has been sketchy lately also.  At least it wasn't just me!  We decided that maybe we just had a temporary mailman while the normal dude was on vacation or something, and things were backlogged.

Then she told me the story  about her friend and her GPS.  That's when my ridiculous theory really started to form in my brain.

Her friend was coming to visit from out of the area and hadn't been here in a few years.  She was relying on her GPS to get her to her destination.  Apparently she drove most of the way here without needing directions.  When she got closer she tried to plug in the address and it told her that there was no such street.  Say what?  This is not a new street.  We are not in some fancy new development.  My house has been here since the 1930s.  The poor lady ended up having to park at a restaurant and call my neighbor to get directions.

Eventually they were united, and they tried to figure out what happened to the GPS.  Turns out the GPS did not believe our street existed in Poughkeepsie, but in the non-existent town of Arlington.  Arlington is a school district.  It is a fire district.  It is a "population center" in Poughkeepsie for the census data.  It is not a separate town.  Just ask Wikipedia.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arlington,_New_York

I wonder if my mail is getting screwed up by this as well?  I have gotten some things with an address of Arlington, NY.  On the other hand, my brother had no problems with his GPS when he came to visit.  It knew my street existed.  

That, Friends, is the weirdness that has been going on lately.  I'm starting to think my street has taken on the status of an imaginary place.  Maybe it can only be found by people who already know it is here -- like Diagon Alley or 12 Grimmauld Place.  

I'd be totally cool with having wizards for neighbors, for the record.

Snow Day!! (Featuring Small Yard Problems)

I'm not going to lie -- I love getting a snow day from work as much as kids love getting them from school.  An extra day off always rocks!

You might remember that a blizzard hit the North East recently.  We got really lucky and got very little snow compared to those just 50 miles to the east.  This time around?  Not so lucky.  Most areas seem to have gotten about a foot so far.

Now, I realize if you live in Buffalo, for example, you are probably laughing your ass off at the thought of a foot of snow being qualified as "a lot".  I get it.  I went to Brockport, I am familiar with the horrors of Lake Effect snow.  It's one of the main reasons I chose to move back down here after graduation.

I just finished getting cleared out.  My awesome neighbor Walt had already come over and cleared my entire driveway once with his snow blower!  I had no idea!  I owe that man some Heineken.  My father came over with his snow blower and cleared it all back a second time.  I basically just had to do the steps.  I am a lucky gal!

I am now hoping we don't get more snow any time soon.  I'm about maxed out on space to pile it already.

For those of you who don't have tiny front yards:

That's my Dad, trying to stack up the snow better.  He's literally standing in the street at that point.

The piles are already nearing Small Animal Ski Slope proportions

The back yard isn't faring much better.  It has become the dumping ground for most of the snow from the drive way.

Ignore my lovely "shoveling out" ensemble, please.  I'm standing in the end of an area my father plowed out to reach the bird feeder.  It's about even with my knees.

Somewhere out there is my snowman.  I can't even see his jaunty cap!

Once we got my mess under control, my Dad cleared out the end of Walt's driveway for him again, and made a path from the house to the street for my neighbors across the street.  Walt & I seem to be the only ones on the street who have bothered to clear out so far.

Not too terribly long after this, when I was back indoors getting warm again, the plow truck came through.  I swear they have some uncanny ability to know when you have finished clearing the snow!  Don't see them for hours, but as soon as you finish -- there they are.  I'm being to think they have secret sensors, or hidden cameras.

Screw it.  Between my shoveling, Walt's efforts, and my Dad's work -- that front walkway has been cleared 4 times now.  It is what it is.  I give up.

Good thing I had a snow day!