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Give peace a chance.

Lingering far too long one morning in my white terry, I hear a desperate knock at the front door. The door has a tidy, little, square window. It is cheap, painted with a red frame and a shooting star. I would have preferred our visitor ruminate a moment on my freshly painted star but she seems intent on entry. Which is how we came to have a non English-speaking, burqa-clad woman attempting to communicate danger by screaming:

Police! Murder!

It was at this moment three little boys fled down the hall and scrambled under a desk, a maple syrup cap and three plates of pancakes spinning in their wake.

Pajama panted Lovin' Man to the rescue. When an attempt to reach 911 is stalled by a Hispanic recording, we are frozen. The woman is wild eyed, now pleading in her native tongue. One can never quite prepare one's self for such a situation which is how we came to have a second visitor. This one, screaming profanities (English and otherwise) as well as Arabic, also failed to admire my shooting star. Or wait for an invitation. She burst into our tiny living room and a full on cat fight ensued. Burqa Cat versus Expletive Cat.

As a way of explanation, the younger and fouler mouthed woman claims that Burqa Cat, the wife of her bro, has temporarily abandoned her small children in her house across the lane and suffers from postpartum depression. Although her English is tidy, we remain unconvinced as Expletive Cat currently holds a fist full of Burqa Cat hair. We voice the occasional Hey Now! and Hold On! as these two slapped and scratched their way to a solution.

A childhood Friend/Guitar Repairman shows up. He is anxious as he peers into the scene. Standing in the open doorway, he thoughtfully offers assistance but, by this time, my shooting star has fallen altogether. Five adults are crowded into our living room.

White terry.
Pajama pants.
F words.
Stunned Guitar Man.

Unfortunately, none are proficient enough in Spanish to complete a 911 request.

The Guitar Man has unwittingly provided an escape and Burqa Cat dashes out the open doorway, trodding upon my shooting star. We watch, mouths gaping, as Expletive Cat receives a vicious kick, pursuing her brother's wife up the porch steps of her home. Burqa Cat locks herself safely inside. The giant eyes of her tiny children peek through the blinds.

A new player, Mother In Law, emerges in the driveway, tearing at her own burqa. Weeping and gnashing. Crying out indecipherably at the tragedy of ill conceived shooting stars.

The cursing and crying stop. We are perplexed. Little boys tiptoe back into the living room. English speaking police arrived 45 minutes too late. We all watch closely but Burqa Cat refuses to answer the door.

Those folks had some citified chickens. Our cat, Happy, ate the rooster.


  1. Happy to eat you.


  2. The neighbors in your hood are really something to behold! At least it wasn't a people-murder... Although I would consider getting a deadbolt, and maybe an intercom system for visitors... possibly even a moat, just to be on the safe side...

  3. Definitely gonna take that moat under consideration. But first, we collect an army of dogs.


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