The Cul-De-Sac Gazette - rare public edition

My grown, adult and surprisingly well-adjusted children live in Wisconsin and Nevada. Being modern humans, we text and Face-Time quite a bit.

However, I am fairly old school and decided to write my kids letters occasionally by hand, mostly because I wanted my great-grandchildren to know what cursive handwriting looks like.

So, I started a private, totally non-profit newspaper from my own home that I named the “Cul-De-Sac Gazette” - complete with a hand-drawn masthead, because I know what I’m doing here - which is a collection of news from my neighborhood. The only people who subscribe, willingly or unwillingly, are my children.

When the house that looks like the Yosemite National Park gift shop finally sold in my neighborhood, my kids were among the first to know.

That mean old lady across the street? Well, for the first several months I referred to her in my small private newspaper as “Maxine” because she really reminds me of the cranky Hallmark lady. Turns out her real name is ... Maxine. That was the month’s headline.

When my husband ragemowed the yard of a house under construction because he couldn’t take it anymore, that made the opinion section with a hilarious accompanying texted video.

Some of it is conjecture and guesses, and some of it is just fun gossip.

This week, I’m sharing this issue of Cul-De-Sac Gazette with my readers for the first time because frankly, it pretty much describes the utter excitement I live with in my life these days. Also, it shouldn’t get me sued.

CUL-DE-SAC GAZETTE AUGUST 2020

This week with the milder temperatures in the evening, I’ve spent more time outdoors engaging in my favorite hobby - watching people walk the neighborhood and totally making up their back stories, which apparently is a psychological defect of mine.

I’ve watched every human in a 10-mile radius walk their dogs in our cul-de-sac, I’ve seen power walkers and bored and lonely neighbors driving around to find someone to visit with for a few moments. Those are not the fake stories.

This week though, I was really touched in my heart by an older couple on what appeared to be brand new bicycles enjoying an evening ride. I had never seen either of them before, but they were cute. She was wearing a mask while she rode and he wasn’t. They went around the cul-de-sac a few times and he followed her into our paved alley and I lost sight of them both.

My heart for a short time envisioned me and Bobby pedalling off into our golden years on matching, shiny Schwinn’s, and I had my fleeting hope for humanity and the future.

Five minutes later, the masked lady reappeared out of the alley and back into the cul-de-sac where she turned and I lost sight of her again. I waited for her husband and he never showed up. That’s when I decided she lured him back there to murder him, and because of the mask and brand-new probably untraceable bicycles, no one would be able to identify her. And I was like, wow, I think I just witnessed a portion of the crime of the century .... Just off my cul-de-sac.

That theory was blown about 15 minutes later when he emerged without her and I didn’t have the heart to tell him she probably thought he was dead. Boy is she going to be surprised.

I’m sure this brings back memories to you kids about the time we sat in Red Lobster after a powerlifting meet in Houston and spent our meal making up a back story on the anonymous family in the booth across from us. If I remember right, it didn’t end in murder but it was very interesting.

Now you might understand why I am surprised and delighted my children are well-adjusted.