Monday, September 29, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The really nice young lady who came to the house from Fairfax County's Animal Control said that he was a male juvenile black snake. If he were mature, he'd be around 3 feet long and as wide around as a hot dog. I'm glad he was still a teenager.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Here are the cars in his driveway. I'm not sure if they are all his. Someone who lives nearby told me that he has a "group house," and that "hippies" live there with him. I've also been told he's a janitor at a local elementary school. He's a regular at the neighborhood association meetings but I've never known him to speak up.
The thing about my neighborhood is that it's transitioning from one generation to the next. Like a lot of places where the price of real estate has risen far beyond what the original owners could afford now, Salona Village has a fair amount of children of the original owners doing what I call, sheltering in place. The mortgage has been completely paid off by their parents, so it doesn't cost anything for them to live there. They can't afford to move out and live nearby, but they're not making enough money to keep the place up, so it falls into disrepair.
Their are 2 equations that apply in my neighborhood:
Equation Number One:original owners + children elsewhere = teardown, and
Equation Number Two:
original owners + children sheltering in place = suburban blight.
So, we have these absurd real estate conjunctions. Like our hippie, plaid-shirted, group-homey janitor's house, above, next to something like this.
And it's hard to tell which one is more f*cked up.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
You would think that this has no relationship to this story, but it does, because one day, our middle son came home looking like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary. Or in his case, someone who knew he had come up with a parking maneuver so astounding in its ingenuity and boldness that he would leave Larry breathless, astonished, and totally unable to come up with anything better.
Let me lead you through this triumph of male one-ups-man-ship. It's a trip from our house to the post-office. A normal person would go out to Old Chainbridge Road, take a right onto Elm Street after the light at Old Dominion, and be there in a minute or two. But that's not how you do it when you're competing for King of Parking Lot Maneuvers.
You start out up Kurtz Road -- this is the main road that leads out of our neighborhood. The direction you are heading is completely opposite to the direction of the post office. But no matter.
Once you're in the Salona Village strip mall lot, you drive a little bit, past the Treasure Trove and Green Matter and almost to the McLean Family Restaurant and there is the opening to Chainbridge Road.
Then another left into the post office parking lot. That's Parking Lot Number 5.
Of course, by the time you get there, it's taken you 10 minutes or more, because of speed bumps, waiting for traffic to clear to make all those left turns, and in general, just going much more slowly than you would if you were driving down a regular street.
But damn! It's a 5 Parking Lot Maneuver.
Larry was never able to surpass it.
This could be the very same cart that Al was pushing that day. There's no way to know, really. Think about it. It kind of gives me shivers.