Yesterday I went through a drive through barbecue place and picked up a meal to take to Kendra.
She was at the flip house and hadn’t been able to leave all day. She has to stay there for plumbers, electricians, inspectors, etc.
So I called her and asked if she’d eaten and she said no. Then I picked up one of the meals she prefers.
We sat in the car while she ate because she doesn’t like to eat in front of her men. At least it gives us a chance to talk for a bit. And she can still keep an eye on what’s going on.
On The Way Home:
Afterwards I headed home and came across a strange sight. At one main thoroughfare a young woman stood in jeans and a t-shirt in the middle of the road.
She was dressed and groomed well. Not a homeless person I don’t think.
Her stance reminded me of a policeman directing traffic. They typically stand in the dead center of the street going both ways.
She kind of danced around and then sat down. It was hard to get around her.
To Stop Or Not To Stop?
It occurred to me to ask if she was okay. But the look in her eyes told me it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. She had this ferocious look; a daring look I guess you could say. Her eyes were a little too bright and intense.
I think she was probably high. If not that, maybe she was mentally ill and off her meds. It occurred to me that it wasn’t a great area I was driving through.
Tulsa is funny that way. You can have half a million dollar houses on one block. And a few blocks down there are bars on store windows.
As I drove on I looked in the rear view mirror to see if she’d gotten out of the road.
Doing Perfect Splits:
No, she was still there. But now she was doing perfect splits in those tight jeans.
Splits in the middle of the road with drivers timidly trying to get around her.
What a strange sight.
Now I’ve seen some strange things in Tulsa just driving down the road.
There is this one guy who dresses up like a boxer. He stands in place usually along Riverside by the river and shadow boxes.
He’s an older man. Looks to be in good shape.
When I lived in Norman where I raised my girls there was “the glove man.” For years he walked at a rapid pace all over town with a glove on his hand and talked to himself. So that’s why everyone called him the glove man.
There are always “characters” in every city I suppose.
I hope the woman doing the splits didn’t get hit. She was young and looked healthy. I thought about her all day.
The mentally ill and/or addicted in our communities apparently need a lot more help than they are getting these days.
But instead of allotting money to social programs it seems they always give a big tax cut to the rich. What a disproportionate country we live in.