Intrigue and terrible sleuthing

There is a woman who walks the road every day as I'm driving by, dressed in full hula regalia, with a little dog wearing leis on all four ankles. She dances and waves to the cars, no matter the weather. She's a bit well-groomed for a crazy person. Maybe she made a promise to someone. Maybe she's a ghost.

I took a picture of her as I drove by.

Yep, right there behind the window frame. Or maybe she doesn't show up in pictures, because GHOST. It is a mystery.

Also mysterious, the crowd of crunchy yuppies gathering silently outside the dialysis center across the street every Sunday evening. We passed by with the stroller on our walk last night, as women in wrapped skirts and Starbucks cups arrived on foot. They stood with men wearing hemp pants, everyone well groomed and beaming whole-food spirituality, clustered in a group facing inward. At the center stood a man with puffed lips and a tight tanned face, hands outspread at his sides, gazing serenely into the middle distance. Nobody spoke. There were no cars in the parking lot. the dialysis center was closed. We squeaked through the silence and around the corner, questioning each other in the language of eyebrows. Cult? One of the holy ancient alien landing spots? Prancercise gathering? I KNEW I needed to order ankle weights.

At the store nearby, I spotted our neighbor. He had to have walked by the strange gathering, as well, so I called to him. "Hey!" "...Hey?" "Did you -?" He had hustled away awkwardly. I felt rejected, then walked across his path, into a trail of pot smoke. Aha. Undeterred, I asked a cashier. "What do you know about the group of crunchy people in yoga pants gathering over by the dialysis center every Sunday?" Nothing, it turns out. As we walked home, I peered into the karaoke bar, hoping to see guru stretchy-face and his band of vegans warbling along to Blueberry Hill. If it was a bar crawl meet-up, they weren't starting here. By the time we wheeled back around the corner -only 10 minutes later - the crowd had dispersed. A sunset meeting around a silent man with plastic surgery and yoga pants. My google-fu yielded no answers. 

Next time, will put on athletic gear and sneak into the group.