Rock-a-by, Baby

Tonight when I was sitting at a light a girl in her late twenties walked across the crosswalk pushing a stroller. She was talking on the phone, quite animated, very absorbed in her conversation. In the stroller was a bright-eyed baby, no more than 9 months old. He was bundled in a cute little jacket, comfortably sitting against the cushy seat of his ride.

He was also wearing small, kid-sized noise-cancelling headphones. I don't know where the cord led to, but certainly something was playing. He had a huge grin on his face and was waving his fists. The noises of the street were quite loud, and I suddenly found myself envious of the little guy's happy, musical, oblivious world.

Smart mother! The baby's less likely to get cranky if he doesn't have the chaos of a busy street around him. And good kid! To not just pull the headphones off.

Rock on, little man. You look pretty fly with those little headphones.

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Don't Mind Me

Is there a new bit of technology out there that I'm not aware of? The invisible bluetooth? Because I can't explain yesterday's encounter any other way.

The polite little ping of my gas light blinking to life did not come as a surprise. I'd been waiting for the sound for the last couple minutes. With a reluctant sigh I turned into the nearest gas station. It's one I've been to several times. Small, two double-sided pumps, little convenience store inside. I parked and began the whole process, aware as another car joined me at the other pump on the opposite side. Being a naturally cautious person, I continued with my fill, but stayed quite alert. I didn't look at the person who got out and swiped their own card, I was only aware in my peripheral that it was a woman.

It was quiet, I stood beside my car watching the numbers tick higher and higher, secretly resenting the numbers beside the dollar symbol. Suddenly the woman, loudly and quite conspicuously says, "Don't mind me! I'm just pumpin' my gas!"

Surprised, I glanced over at here. She's glaring at the nozzle she's feeding into her tank. I didn't see an earpiece on the ear facing me, nor when she turned did I see one on the other. "That's right!" she continued loudly. "Nothing but pumpin'!"

Bewildered, I searched around the lot to see if there was anyone else out there. Nope. I glanced into her car. Empty too. Again, I checked for an earpiece or any kind of cellphone. Nothing! "Hate these freaking prices," she complained.

My handle clicked, indicating my car was full, and I hastened to put it away. As I was snatching my receipt, she yelled something else. I don't remember what. I looked over again and this time saw that she was looking at me. I gave her a smile, which she met with a scowl. "Hurry up," she demanded of the pump, giving it a kick.

I chuckled and got in my car, giving her a friendly wave as I drove away.

Gas stations are rarely places of good conversation. Most of us fill up and leave, never paying any mind to the people around us. That woman disregarded social protocol, whether directly to me or her invisible companion, I do not know. She abandoned the unspoken rule of silence and invited me, if briefly, into her unusual world. Maybe I should have responded. I was so surprised by the ferociousness of her social defiance that I never thought to speak. What if I had?

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Crazy Cora

So my brother and I, with the help of our father, purchased this old house and began an ambitious remodeling project. It was tiring, difficult work that has since yielded pleasant rewards. But this is not about that project. This is another curiosity, but more than just a sighting, it is an experience.

The experience was a woman who showed up late one night just as we were finishing up. I don't recall her real name, only that by the end of the night I was thinking of her as 'Crazy Cora' ala Quigley Down Under. She wore this truly bizarre wide-brimmed hat with a funny hole at the very top and pins scattered over it. She had bright little eyes that darted here and there, flickering with a kind of fevered intensity. Thirty seconds after meeting her, I knew she was one odd duck. She claimed to own a house just down the way, nearly identical to ours in layout and structure. She wanted to come in and see our progress, which we granted.

Her age was difficult to guess. Certainly older than 50, but just how much older was anyone's guess. She had this crazed kind of youth in her eye and the way she moved suggested boundless energy. She talked incessantly, barely giving us a chance to explain our decisions. She was friendly and kind, never critical, but almost manic in her chatter. She told us about the neighborhood - she was a history buff and knew the stories behind all the old houses in the area. Ours was built in 1906, she said. It was interesting information to hear, but her twitchy, fast-paced manner accessorized with that otherworldly hat made the teller more distracting than the story.

And then she asked us what we were going to do about doors.

"Doors?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes," she replied, "Because the doors that used to be in this house were terrible, as I'm sure you know since you've obviously gotten rid of them. I can help you out in replacing them. I collect doors you see-"

Yes. You read right. A collector of doors. Of course the image that sprang to mind was one complimentary of Monsters Inc: a warehouse filled with thousands of doors. It was so fantastic I laughed. She didn't notice and continued on, telling me that she went to dumps and landfills and people's dumpsters collecting all kinds of doors. She was certain, she told me, that she had just the right size doors for our tall narrow frames.

I thanked her and promised to call if we decided we needed them. She left us with promises to stop by again, scampering off like a little field mouse.

As she left I got this spreading warmth inside - the glow of knowing I'd just met a truly interesting person. I've yet to see her again, much to my regret. It is so much better to be a Crazy Cora than a Normal, don't you think?

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Balance

Waiting for life to continue, as always. This time hanging out in a right-turn lane about 3 cars back, on my way to meet someone for lunch. On my right was a Wendys, and at the drive up window was a sight that made me grin from ear to ear.

Yep, a man on a unicycle. He had on a pressed clean white shirt and tie and sharp black slacks. A business man, without a doubt. He gripped the edge of the window until she handed him a sack of food and off he went. Rolling down the road on that precarious single wheel with his new meal in hand. Where was he going? Back to work? And why the choice of one wheel instead of two?

Either way, as the lane moved and I went on my way, I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the polished man with his hot lunch, stoically rolling away on the most ridiculous form of transportation ever. Somehow, I get the feeling he's the kind of guy who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to grab it.

I guess whatever may or may not be true about him, one thing is: he's really good at balancing. Good luck, unicycle man.

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Cleaning up the Streets

Lets face it, in this day and age, pubic displays of affection are alive and well in our fair country of the USA. In fact it's so common that few of us even bat an eye when we see a couple kissing on the street. Sometimes the displays are more...agressive... than others, and sometimes they're just downright obscene. Most of the time, however, we don't notice because it is always there in the background of our day to day.

In our recent obsession with tolerance, however, a new kind of PDA has sprung up. Same-sex PDA. Now before a

hissy-fit ensues, I will hereby declare that the writer of this blog will not state her own opinion on same-sex couples, only acknowledge that such couples exist. Up until just recently, these people were very quiet about their preferences, and even more careful about who they were affectionate around. Not anymore. Now they would like to be able to be as open with their affections as any hetero couple. Naturally, they are still people who have problems with this. Who find it offensive.

Red light again. Sitting idly, turning my gaze out to the pedestrians around. A little ways down the way, I spied a homeless man lounging in the grass. His grizzled, crazily bearded face was tipped up into the bright new spring sun and he was playing with an empty soda bottle. Pondering him briefly, I moved on, considering the parking lot behind him before spying some activity going on at the corner near me. Two men, making out against the lightpost. My gaze leapt away from them habitually, as I have been conditioned to do when I see any couple lost in the world of each other. The homeless man had noticed them too.

He got up, seeming a bit labored by the effort, and limped toward them with a grim look. They were oblivious to him - until he started prodding one of them in the shoulder with his empty soda bottle. He poked and pestered until they finally turned around, a bit put off. I rue the fact that my windows were up. I couldn't hear what was said. But I could tell, by the shaking of his extended index finger and his stern face that he was giving the surprised boys a very strict talking to.

I laughed as the light turned green and I sped away. Leave it to the homeless to keep the streets family-friendly.

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Curious Beginnings

WELCOME to the the newest member of the wide open internets! Known affectionately by its creator as Curiouser. But formerly, we shall be called Curious Sightings. A little explanation, perhaps, is in order?

We've all been there. Stuck at a red light, fingers drumming an impatient cadence on the steering wheel, our eyes fixed on the adjacent light, waiting for its persistent green to flick to yellow so you know very soon you can be on your way again. Your foot hovers over the acceleration, and in instances like mine, your other waits at the clutch. The tedium of waiting seems to grow with each light you're forced to stop at, and this one has you especially on edge.

Now. This is where this blog's need to exist arrives from. Guess what - those red lights, that stop-and-go traffic, these places can be prime spots for sighting the most delightfully curious events. There is amusement in the world, all around us. We are immersed in funny, random, or interesting situations all the time, it's just that most of us don't realize it.

Well hopefully we here at CS can help you learn to look around! Every wednesday we'll have reader contribution stories - so watch what we do, and then submit your own! Look around. Strange things are happening everywhere. Some other ideas we're having, Freeway Friday - sightings of strange occurrences inside other cars around you. Anyway, we'll post more and you'll know what we mean soon enough.

So stay tuned! Hopefully you'll like what you see, both here and in your world.

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