In 2002 we ran away from Illinois where we were born and raised, and started a new life in SW Florida. This blog is about me (an eccentric old artist), ROM (my Real Old Man), Isabella (our neurotic Standard Poodle) and Emmy (our crazy snake killing Jack Russell Terrier). Oh- and the neighborhood old people. Life is good in Florida!


Monday, June 23, 2014

The Crazy Comes A-Knockin'..

I've become a bit of a recluse lately, spending my days alone in my studio doodling with watercolors and playing with clay. You'd think there would be no way I could get myself in trouble alone in my house, but you'd be wrong. For some reason that I can't figure out, I seem to be a magnet to crazy people. They seek me out. From the time I was a small child, I've attracted crazies. My mother used to tell the story about how when I was 3 or 4 years old she found me sitting on our back steps with my little terrier dog, sharing my sandwich with a crazy old hobo (that's what they called homeless people back then) who was sitting beside me. She said we were chatting away about lightning bugs like we had known each other forever. She was horrified that even though the poor old guy was clearly bat shit crazy, I was quite comfortable with him. 

After many years of encounters with "unusual people" I'm now more jaded and leery of crazies than I was when my path crossed with that old hobo. Now days if I see them coming I try to avoid them. Their drama is much too exhausting- and everybody knows crazies always bring drama with them. That's why Bravo TV hires so many of them. And lord knows, there is never a shortage of crazies. 

Even though I try to avoid interacting with crazies, they seek me out like I have a GPS for crazy attached to me. Even when I'm cocooned within my own home minding my own business and completely disengaged with the outside world. Like last week...

I was in my studio, doodling with watercolors when the dogs suddenly ran to the lanai door barking their heads off. I followed them to the door to find a strange woman standing there. After I quieted the dogs down, I went out on the lanai to see what she wanted. She was a middle aged woman, tall and heavy set, kind of frumpy looking. She seemed normal enough as we exchanged pleasantries. I was wanting to get back to work in the studio so I asked her what I could do for her and then she started into a sales pitch- ugh. She was selling meat from a freezer in the back of her pickup truck. I've seen this before, and am always amazed that anyone would buy meat from some stranger going house to house. About half way through her spiel, I stopped her and told her this was a private community and salespeople weren't allowed in. She continued to talk over me and acted like she didn't even hear me. So then I got pissed...

I told her she should be ashamed of herself for trying to scam these old people and sell them crappy meat out of a pickup truck. I added that she needed to leave right that minute because I was going to call management. Shit the bed, Fred- she went nuts! She started screaming and cursing at me while flailing her arms around and stomping her feet. As she shrieked "You fucking bitch" over and over again, I backed away and retreated into the house. After I locked the glass siding door, I did what any mature, sane and sensible woman would do... I stuck my tongue out at her and quickly pulled the drapes closed. I showed her... I can act crazy, too... behind a locked door. 

Strays find me, too. Look at this sweet guy who showed up at our door Sunday-
We're trying to find his owners and have notified all the area shelters, rescues and vets. He's such a great little dog with a wonderful personality, I already have a new home lined up for him if we can't find the owners. This is a good reminder to make sure our pets have tags on their collars and are microchipped. Even though we we think it can't happen to our pet, it can and it does... every day. Better safe than sorry!