Not Your Ordinary Ederly Lady.
We've all heard about them. Some call them eccentric, strange, or peculiar. Others claim that they're just plain crazy. However, no matter how one classifies them, they seem to exist in just about every neighborhood. Maybe you've actually made contact with one or two in your lifetime, and maybe you haven't, but nevertheless stories about them have most likely have been passed down the grapevine to your eager little ears. They live up the street, down the street, around the corner, in the last house, in the first house, in that house on that dead end street where no one in their right mind would ever dream of making a K-turn, or just about anywhere else. They are the crazy people, the oddballs of the world, and I am cursed and blessed to be able to live up the street from one of the kind, a very special, older, "unusual" lady (who I will refer to as Mrs. Smith for the sake of this essay). Mrs. Smith is relatively short with cotton-swab white hair, and looks like your ordinary kindly old grandmother who would smile to you sweetly while offering you another plateful of warm, gooey, chocolate chip cookies. However, her actions prove her to be otherwise as will be related in the three short stories of the bus stop, the dog walk
We had to first let off the children at a stop directly before ours, and this involved stopping near that corner house on Quarry Terrace with its "Keep off the Grass" sign visible from a mile away. Picking up and dropping off four guiltless little tikes on a daily basis right next to her property was obviously unacceptable, not to mention rude, and she was refusing to stand for it any longer. Smith stories never fail to bring a smile to our faces. So my sister, being the responsible girl she occasionally is, agreed to take her out for a stroll around the neighborhood. For how boring life would be without a couple of Mrs. It was a blistering, hot, humid summer day about five or six years ago when my big yellow day-camp bus came rumbling down the street to drop my awaiting siblings and I off at our stop at the end of a long, tiring day. Now Rosie, my fine furry friend, does not take peaceful promenades while going about her business but rather takes to the situation as any excited, energized dog would. On the bright side, however alarmed and confused she may have made my family and I feel, our Mrs. It is quite evident from the three stories related to you that Mrs. My sister did indeed posses enough intellect to try to stay as far away from that faithful house as she could, but Rosie had some other ideas. Smith proceeded to scream at my sister, pointing out that she should "keep that thing on a leash" (although the leash was evident in my sister's grip), and have some sense to respect the lives of the people around the area. Finally, it was agreed on by all that the bus would stop a couple of feet farther from her property than it had been previously and Mrs.
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Acceptance Essays
