Sunday, June 3, 2007

Saturday was CrazyCrazy Day

There are many holidays that I don't quite notice until they're almost over. Or know about at all, really. St. Patrick's Day, although not unknown, or low profile, is one I almost always forget until it's over, or someone says "Yo - Why no green?". Yesterday, unbenownst to me, was Crazy Day. Really, many days with Curly are Crazy Day, but that's a wholenother issue.I had to take Curly to a children's birthday party (and it was a nice one, but still, children's birthday parties are full of over-sugared little people acting completely bonkers). Then we had a dinner guest who kind of took... a little left turn into whacked out. And then, once our dinner guests left, my crazy neighbor came over and really took up celebrating her Day.

That's right. She came over. She asked to come in. She came inside and asked us to call 911, since our other neighbor (The Invisible Neighbor, who we know - by day - as a nice engineer with a lovely wife and daughters and she knows as a terrible nocturnal criminal who turns invisible and sneaks into her house to perpetrate crimes like... stealing her coffee) was spraying her with carbon monoxide. We asked how she knew this, and she fluffed a hand at us, and changed the subject by turning to me and saying that he was also turning invisible and coming in the house to eat her rice, you know, the rice that smells good. "Jasmine rice?" I asked. Yes, jasmine rice! Her big, big bag of jasmine rice. I asked how she knew he was stealing it, and she described a little hole in the bag, near the floor, with grains trailing out, and the bag lowering in level. Rats, anyone? Ew. I suggested this, but she dismissed the notion that the rats which the Invisible Neighbor (that no-good bastard! that crook! that mafia! that... crumb-bum! Yup. She said "Crumb-bum.") put in her house would eat her good-smelling jasmine rice. It was him. And she knows he steals her food because one time, she bought three pounds of hamburger, and then there was only one, and she could smell them cooking hamburger! And she can never smell their cooking! Because they have nothing to eat! The crumb-bums.

We chatted at a nice shout for a while, she said she was going to get a lawyer to keep them from hurting her, we said that was a great, great idea and also, the kids were in bed and she was shouting in our very small house so she had to leave.

Although they are creepy, and disturbing, and sad, I also sort of adore my crazy neighbor's monologues. It is very, very difficult to keep a straight face when logic takes an inevitable left turn, and it's kind of fun to try. For instance, the Invisible Neighbor has stolen important papers of hers. I asked if she could have mis-placed them. No, she says. She lives alone, so how could she mis-place them? Oh. Riiiight. Another time, she was trying to sort out how to operate a disposable camera, and my husband helped her. He asked if she was going to try and get pictures of the Invisible Neighbor when he came to tap her on the head (apparently, the Invisible Neighbor comes at night to tap her on the head when she's sleeping. If you inquire about this, you'll also get the fun of seeing her demonstrate how she tries to stab him). She looked at my husband like he was very dim, and explained she couldn't take a picture of someone who was invisible. Of course not. How silly.
Anyway, after our chat, she left, and seems to have promptly called 911 to say "carbon monoxide in my house," which, naturally, brought the fire department with flashing lights. However, because they know that she's insane, they often talk to me before they go up to her door. Per usual, we chatted, they came, they went, they shook their heads.

The pictures of the snapdragon are there because... my children talk to them, and it seemed to relate to crazy. I make snapdragon talk to them, puppet-style (in a voice that's like an evil, drunk Fozzy Bear), and they look at snapdragon, and ask it questions, and behave as if, truly, the flower that my hand is opening and closing, is really speaking to them. Gullible? Crazy? Incredibly sweet? I can never quite decide, but I take thorough advantage of their love of snapdragon to have snapdragon suggest to them to do their chores and listen to their mother. And then... they do what snapdragon tells them. Snapdragon has potential as a good cult leader.

So that was Crazy Day. At least next year I'll know it's coming and can hide. With a tin-foil hat. To keep the signals from outer space from penetrating my thoughts.
I'd mention dinner, but... despite having lovely wild salmon from Mutual Fish, (another) salad with fennel in it, and a nice cumin-y chickpea salad, dinner was a little too full of whacked-out-ness to be whipping out the camera and taking blog photos.

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