So much for cookie cutter.

We live in a typical middle income "cookie cutter" development. The homes were built about 4 or 5 years ago. We pay those blasted association fees that make each home, what, politically correct? Um, like Willy's house has to have the exact same siding because, you know, he only had a few choices of color, beige or light beige.
And we can't have a vegetable garden or clothesline in our backyards (want to keep out the riff raff after all). Oh sure, we do have dainty little "old fashioned" street signs to make us "stand out" from your average development. I'm guessing standard sign fonts tend to cause confusion when giving directions. Either that or maybe dainty street signs don't get stolen as frequently (what boy is going to want a dainty "Main Street" sign in his room alongside his full sized working traffic light?) All in all though, it's a wonderful (albeit conformed) life. For the most part, that is.

For today, I was able to witness something that put a bit of a spin on my perception. I was out back (painting my grill because, well, the grill division of our HOA might not approve of flaking paint) when I noticed one of the "less conformed" neighbors (think Larry the Cable Guy, only girl) chasing what I thought was a dog. I continued rolling on a coat of high heat enamel, vaguely aware that little Miss Cable chick was bouncing along like a little flower girl, tossing something into the air as she went.

Okay, sit the roller brush down, Toni. Something's out of sorts here. Why is your 14 year old neighbor girl meandering by like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music? And just what is she bouncing after?

Okay, so my brain needed some time to process what came next. See, the pond sits just beyond my backyard fence. And beyond the pond was the dog who was being chased by my neighbor. Only, that was no dog. Call in the hounds and fire up the bugles 'cause folks, we've got ourselves a reg-lar fox hunt goin' on here. Uh huh, sure wasa fox. I just could not believe my eyes. Oh, and if you cock your head sideways, cross your eyes just enough so your vision begins to blur and then stare reaaaal intense-like, you can see the fox here, in front of the pine trees.
What you won't see (and what just stumped me to no end) is my 14yo neighbor skipping along after him like he was one of the ducks in our pond, tossing hunks of bread for him as she went. And he was eating them too. Though he didn't prefer them because he was raiding Canadian goose nests (Boo Mama would be horrified), confiscating their eggs as he went along his merry way. We could literally see his mouth gaping as he continued on, poor eggs the victims of this random act of violence.

I ask you, did he deserve manna from Heaven? NO. HE. DID. NOT. So I'm none too thrilled that my neighbor girl was happily tossing bread to the classically sneaky fox, who dared make his gluttened food run in broad daylight. Through my neighborhood. I'm thinking of crafting up a red riding hood and planning a trip to my granny's house with my dear friend the woodcutter. Oh wait, that was a wolf. Very well then. It's my blog and I can rewrite the end of any ol' story I desire.

Toni