The Panda House

As my local friends know, our side of town is full of cultural curiosities to say the least. I dreamt of writing one amazing post about all the oddities... but became quite overwhelmed at the task.

Where do I start?
Where do I stop?
How do I do it all justice?

Lorraine's idea was divine... to do an "observation of the day" type of thing... freeing me from the pressure of wanting to perform ALL of it perfectly at my first shot. She acts like she's taking Sonship or something. Anyway...

The Panda House is a great place to start. I pause here, because I'm quite aware that my words won't do it justice. You'll just have to come for a visit and ask for the tour... from across the street.

I got my rear in gear and went for a walk Thursday morning. Our side of town is made up of cozy bungalows... some making you say, "oh, how cute-" and some making you stop and gasp, "what is that?" Well, the Panda House is one of the "gaspy" ones.

Imagine, if you are capable, hundreds- I'm not exaggerating- of stuffed panda bears, yes- the toy kind, all over the outside of a house.

The porch. Piled on the porch swing. Stacked on the steps. Stuffed in the planters.

The yard. Peering through branches in trees. Lining the fence. Peeking through the shrubs. Even bleeding into the vacant lot next door.

Yes, I really am serious.

Urban Legend has it that there are even more INSIDE the "Panda Woman's" house.

I've always had a problem with collections. If I like something, I might want a couple more of it- maybe. But I'll probably just want to enjoy the one I have. I've never understood the wanting of many many of one thing. I've started to view that house has haunted and wondered what issues the Panda Woman has, or doesn't have.

Well, I have some news for you. On my walk that cool, brisk morning on Thursday, serendipity had it for me to lay my eyes on the Panda Woman herself. When Melanie and I used to walk these streets, we only dreamt of such an occasion. Well, it happened and I will tell you what I saw.

She actually appeared much like I had imagined. She had many years on her, had unkempt hair, and wore a very worn moo moo. She was slowly walking through her yard with a tall pooper scooper, scooping up poop. (By the way, in case you were wondering, "pooper" doesn't pass spell check.)

Upon telling of my viewing to Doug, he exclaimed, "Was it a dog's poop? Or the pandas' poop?" Good question. Good question. I need to get back over there and observe the poop a bit closer.

As I continued on my walk past the Panda's House... or the Panda Woman's House as I now shall say, I leave with many of the same questions as I had before.

Why does she have all these panda's?
Does she not notice they are dirty and molded from being subjected to the elements?
Is anyone in her life to tell her these things?

The whole situation is such a vivid picture of depravity.

Then I get sad. Either she
a) has no one left to free her from the pandas.
or
b) she has family/friends, but for whatever reason, there's enough distance or fear in the relationship that no one is taking action to free her from said pandas.

Does anyone even know why she has the pandas? There has to be a really good reason and a really good story. Does anyone know it? This realization might be the saddest part.

And so I end with a request. If such a collection takes over my home and life in my latter years... or if I have any other issue completely obvious to the world... or we'll even say, if these things are true of my today, please come help me!! Don't leave me here alone to die with my "pandas!"


Doug's ending to this madness is this...
"What if she isn't alone. What if she has a husband who hates the pandas?"