Too much laughing

As the sign indicates, this is Dr. Paul Carlson Memorial Park. A quarter mile in circumference, it stands in the middle of what used to be the Culver City Raceway. Here's an overhead look so as you can get your geographic bearings...

My street, is a block to the right of Motor Ave. From the end of my driveway I can see the sign pictured above and still grumble about the poor kerning between 'Dr.' and 'Paul.' 

Thirty years ago, the park was the site of a presidential speech given by Bill Clinton. BTW, if you to check  with the BLS, you'd quickly see that the economy under his Democratic administration recorded far better numbers than the last president routinely, and falsely, boasted about. 

We didn't catch his 1993 speech because we were on a family vacation in Hawaii and only found out about it when we got dropped off by a taxi from LAX. We missed him by 90 minutes.

I've seen quite a few strange things at nearby Carlson Park.

The cooler fall air has brought out the Sunday aspiring circus performers. I kid you not. Contortioniss twisting their bodies into positions that make me queazy. Jugglers, tossing everything from bowling balls to chainsaws. And whip crackers, who seem to take unnatural joy cracking their long leather (?) weapons.

Maybe I shouldn't admit to enjoying the women work their particular brand of art with a whip, but there I said it.

It's a lot more enjoyable than the guy who used don a full kilt and practice his bagpipe in the park. If you ever need to exact some aural revenge on a neighbor -- maybe one with an overly cranky dog who barks non-stop -- I suggest dialing up some heavy duty bagpipe music. 

Last week, while doing one of my post-surgery restrained old man walks, Lucy (my dog, my quiet dog) and I walked by the pavilion where several families pooled their resources and staged a Barbie party for a bunch of girls, ages 5-14. 

It was fun to watch. And exceedingly pleasant. 

Until it wasn't.

A few of the girls had put out a boom box and were line dancing in unison. I marveled, perhaps jealously, at their easy and graceful coordination. Then one of the 5 year girls who was also observing, pointed at me and yelled, "Amelia, Amelia, look, that old man is watching you!"

I moved it along toot suite. 

But lately the park has been joined by a newcomer. You can see her here...

I apologize for the cinematography and the shortness of the clip. Seems I'm not very good at surreptitious filming and would probably not make it as a detective.

She's quite the regular now at the park. As my initial intel suggests. She always wears the same clothes. And appears to be one of two things: a.) an actress rehearsing for a part that demands constant maniacal laughter. b.) a middle aged woman engaged in some type of therapy involving hours upon hours of forced hyena-like laughing.

Welcome to the neighborhood Laughing Lady. 

Can't believe I'm saying this, but with any luck the bagpipe guy will find his way back here.