What I've Learned From My Neighbors

I think I've mentioned before that Kitten, Oscelot and I have a home in the downtown area of my city. Since the early nineties there has been a sort of rebirth in the neighborhoods surrounding out downtown and the housing priceees have gone up, the neighborhoods have gotten cleaner and historic districs have been created. The end result, for the most part, has been that relatively low income homes that were pretty unsightly have been turned into nice family homes that have a certain degree of maintenance required by the city, so they are a lot nicer now.

Our neighborhood is one of those neighborhoods now. We became a Historic District at teh beginning of this past year. Outside of the massive increase in property taxes, I actually like the idea. For the most part homes in our neighborhood are owned by the people who live in them, and there has been an extensive amount of improvement to these homes in the last five years. I've actually started to agonize over the need for new siding on the house.

The exception to this we live in the home we own rule are my neighbors to the right. For three solid houses we have renters living next to us. Now, I know you can have nice renters. I used to be one. Trouble is, the guy who owns the houses he rents does not keep them up. We call him Slumlord. He also has all the houses available for a Lease to Own option, which means the renter has to pay a down payment rather than a deposit in hopes of one day owning the house. He rents them to people who could never afford to maintain them or pay the meagre rent. (I think its like $400 a month, next to nothing) When they break the lease he gets to keep the down payment. Its a great deal for him. We hate it.

The result of this let anyone rent so I can take their money policy is we have had some really interesting (and by interesting I mean trashy) neighbors. Now, as a mature adult, I figured I knew a few things about the world, that is, until I mived in with Kitten and met the neighbors. I see now, I've been going about things wrong for quite some time. I thought I might share with you a few of the things I have learned from the people who live in the rentals next to me.

1. If You Really Love Your Spouse Scream Obscenities At Them I honestly didn't know that people actually still did this. If you love your spouse, you should be telling them how worthless they are on a regular basis. You aren't doing it at the top of your voice, you don't care for them enough. Personally, I've learned dropping the c-bomb is a great way to tell a lady she's special to you and that telling a man he is as worthless as some part of a horse or other beast of burden is a real compliment.

2.If You Really, Really Love Them, Do it In the Front Yard Apparently this is the next step up in improving relationship dynamics. (I have to confess every now and again Kitten and I will peep out the windows when they really get to yelling at each other.

3. Possession is Not 9/10ths of the Law About two years ago we had a calico cat show up on our front porch with a broken leg. I took pity on her because she was starving and I put out some cat food. Not suprisingly, she stuck around just like Kitten said she would. A few weeks later two more showed up, a smoke blue bobtail and a creamy-orange bobtail. Both of them had bones poking through their skin and could barely move around the porch. I'm a sucker, so I fed and watered them. (The short version is, we now feed a whole host of strays) Anyway, so we named the grey bobtail Jade because she has pretty green eyes, and the cream bobtail Creamsicle, for know discernible reason I can recall.

Yesterday Oscelot was sitting ont he porch talking to a friend of hers on the phone when our neighbor from two houses to the right interrupted her conversation to inform her that both of those cats belong to him, technically. Jade is supposed to be called Star and Creamsible is supposed to be called Snowball. Oscelot asked him if he was sure, since these cats had lived on our porch for two years and showed up starving. He affirmed they were his. She asked him if he knew that Jade had had kittens and that we were paying tohave her fixed once she finished nursing. He said it was nice of us to take care of his cat like that. Oscelot cooly informed him she was pretty sure that Jade belonged to us now, unless of course he wanted to take her home and take proper care of her. He said no, she was his cat, but he just lets her run around and do whatever she wants. They like to be free. Moron.

I'm working on finding her and Creamsicle homes as soon as I possibly can. They deserve better than my porch and definately deserve better than the meth lab that jerk calls home.

4. Garage Sales Are Not a Viable Form of Income The Neighbors before the ones we have now (whom are, big surprise, moving out soon)were unemployed. They were unemployed the enitre time they lived in the hosue next to us. I wondered aloud several times how they managed to get together the down payment on the house and how they paid their rent. Turns out the guy living there told us that they were allowed to take the house unemployed because they paid the down payment plus three months rent in advance. Once their first three months was up Iwatched eagerly to see what would happen.

As time for the rent came due, I was shocked to see that everything from the inside of their house: furniture, children's toys, dishes, cookware, EVEN FOOD FROM THEIR CABINETS was out in the lawn with a giant "Yard Sale" sign in front of it. It didn't do them much good. The minute they made enough money to get a pack of cigarettes they left the house (Kitten and I were on the Porch) some people drove up and selected some items, but since no one came when they yelled at the house they put the box of stuff in their car and drove off anyway.

After five successive months of garage sales new techniques would have to be employed.

5. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished. When Garage Sale Neighbors gave up on the garage sales they moved to other strategems. For example, he brought his newborn over to Kitten and I while we were on the porch and takled about the responsibilites of parenting. Then he asked if he could mow our lawn for $20. We told him no, we didn't have the cash onhand. (True, and I like mowing, because I like being outside.) He smiled happily and said we could pay him by the end of the week, he'd go get the mower.I called after him helplessly to please not blow grass into my flower beds.

He did a terrible job, there were huge mower sized tufts of grass along the entire perimiter of our property. There was geass in my flower beds. The mowing was uneven. I took Kitten to work the next morning at 4:30, she had an early shift. At 5 am, just after I had pulled off my hoodie and was crawling back in bed, he was beating on my door, demanding his $20 and telling me what a good job he did, and how he would weed-eat and weed my flower beds for an additional $20 for each job. I dug in my purse for $20 and I told him no thank you, I would take care of it myself. And I sure did. After I re-mowed the lawn.

When he moved out and our new neighbor moved in, I was delighted. This guy and his wofe seemed normal, even if his children were a little exuberant. I noticed when they began the move in that they were setting trash on their front porch. I told them kindly that if they wanted to they could use ours until their trash cart came. Me, of course, assuming they had trash service and it hadn't been dropped off yet.

Kids, its been almost a year, they still don't have trash service. STILL! About six months ago Oscelot made a list of all the local trash services and how much they cost and gave it to neighbor. Five months ago she called Slumlord and told him about it. He didn't respond to her messages. Four months ago she took one of our spare recycling cans and took all his trash out of our dumpster (it was our entire dumpster too. Know how we know? We don't use diapers.) and chucked it on his front porch. When he came out and started to yell at her, she told him off and then told him unless he was going to pay us for our trash service, and she meant the whole damn bill, he better stop using our trash can. He stopped.

They are clearing out of their house right now, his wife left him for some other guy, and I'm not suprised to see that they have trash all over their front and back porch because they have no place to put it. Serves Slumlord right. (I might even call the health department.)

Right, so that's a start anyway. I have to go and clean myself up for work, but I'll be thinking of you, and my neighbors, today. I'll have a second installment later on tonight. By the way, the picture at the top is Creamcsicle, isn't he cute?

Harry Potter and the Magic of Gardening*

So, I'm going to try not to talk about my garden too much. I don't want to bore anyone. I started gardening last summer when Earth Girl gave us a bunch of begonias and day lilies that she rescued from a nurdury that was going to throw them out. Now I've dug up most of my front yard and put in flower beds everywhere.

Today I placed my oder for all the swesome plants I am putting in this year. My yard is going to look completely different. Kitten, Oscelot and I own a hundred year old bungalow in the downtown area of my city. Some of the houses in my neighborhod are still rentals, but the others are gradually getting nicer, since they made us a historic district last year. When we do sell, we're going to want a nice mature landscape, and honestly, since we had an ice storm about 5 years ago, out yard has been bare. We lost all of our trees and stuff.

So I went to this fantastic website, Exciting Gardens (check them out) and spent about $100 today. In return I am getting, among other things, enough hedging to completely cover the perimiter of our yard front and back, a Japaneese Royal Cherry Tree, about 7 different kinds of perrinal bulbs, 4 rose bushes and some flowering shrubs. Anyone who gardens will tell you, I got a dang good deal.

Anyway, the reason for the Harry Potter reference was my geek moment of the week. We ordered a special breed of hedge, called a privet hedge, and its really pretty. They get to 10 feet tall if you don't keep them trimmed, but they're the kind you can make sculptures out of. (No, I won't) Anyone who has read the Harry Potter books will recall that Harry lives on Privet Drive. I thought this was amusing because Aunt Petunia is spying over the hedge in the first book to see what the neighbors were doing. Also, it reflect the kind of neighborhood Harry would have grown up in, one with an emphasis on privacy and on highly groomed gardens and lawns. It was for me a brief glimmering insight into the books, one that would have gone unnoticed without my grdening hobby.

So there you go, my brief moment of geek that I got from my geeky yard hobby.


*In case I haven't mentioned it, I am not JK Rowling and Harry Potter belongs all to her. I just enjoy him from time to time. She's a great writer. Grab the books.

Story From Dad: The Tomatoes

So dad came over a couple of nights ago and was talking with us and he started telling stories about his childhood. I love them becuase it makes me feel connected to him and it reminds me of how interesting our parent's generation can be. He said to me, "Have I told you the one about the tomatoes?"


"When I was a teenager my friends and I would walk down to the (I think he said drugstore) and we would talk to the girls there and buy them sodas, you know?We'd be standing around and talking to them thinking we were really cool." I interrupt to tell him I have a vision of him with his hair all slicked back with axel grease or pomade or whatever it was they were using back then. He laughs, and sort of nods his head and continues...



"The store was at the end of the street and we would pass this bar on the way down, I think it was called Jack's and it was where the old guys hung out. It was like a total dive, you know with the screen door at the back always propped open because of the wind blowing it and slamming it all the time. You could look in and see the old guys sitting around and smoking and playing cards and having beers and whiskeys."



I'm picturing in my mind this old VFW outpost we have in town and I describe it to him and he nods again,as if I have the right idea.


"So one day in the summer me and my buddies are headed down the street, you know, like we do and one of the guys has arm-fulls of ripe tomatoes and they're passing them out. We snuck up real quiet like and leaned in the back door and we just start firing away. It's like something out of a movie: the cards and beers go flying and everyone is taking cover. Some of the guys upend a table trying to get out of the way. It was a mess. We thought it was so great.


"I was real skinny back then, and I could run. They wanted me for the track team at the high school. I was faster than any of my buddies. This was definately a time where I needed to run fast. Those old guys, once they recovered, they were real mad- they were gonna kick our asses. So all my buddies take off you know? They were getting out of there.


"Have you ever had a moment where you couldn't run? Like you were rooted to the spot? Right then I had one of those moments, and it was bad. All I could think was 'I can't run and these guys are gonna be out here in a minute and they're going to kick my ass.' I couldn't see the other guys anywhere.


"So I looked and in the parking lot there was this old Chevy ( he named the make and I can't think of it) with four flat tires that had been there forever. It was so low to the ground you could barely slide an ashtray under it. Somehow I managed to squeeze under it.


"The men from the bar came dashing out into the parking lot yelling where did we go and we couldn't have gone that far and how they were going to find us and give us a whipping. I lay under that car and was praying they weren't going to look for me there. One of the guys said maybe one of us was under the Chevy and I got real scared for a second. Then another guy was like 'are you kidding? No one could fit under there.' They eventually gave up and went back inside to their drinks.


"When I came out I saw two of my buddies on the roof and a couple more had climbed up the trees down the road. They were telling me how they could see me. Man, they thought I was going to get it. I did too. We went down an alley and snuck back home and made some popcorn and watched TV.


"The next night we walked by the front of the bar really quiet and the guys inside came out and asked us if we knew what happened the day before. We were all innocent and 'no, what happened?' So they told us about it and asked us to keep our ears open and if we heard anything to come and tell them. They said they would know those punks when they saw them and they were going to kick their asses. If we heard anything, we should just pop our heads in the screen door in the back and tell them. They wouldn't tell our parents about us coming into a bar, since we would be helping them out.


"We swore we would tell them as soon as we heard anything and we went on down the street. As soon as we rounded the corner we about died laughing."


Honestly, as dad was telling this story, I about died laughing too. Dad is one of the kindest, most responsible people I know. It caught me off guard to hear he was such a naughty teenager. I suppose he has always had the sense of humor that I admire in him now. He's an onery adult, I don't know why he wouldn't have been a troublemaker as a teen. He has a great way of telling a story too, drawing out street diagrams with his fingers and acting out the way he looked. I know I can't translate that well in the telling, but Ifigured this was amusing all the same.


Makes my teen summers playing cards with the neighborhood boys in my parent's garage and smoking on the sly seem pretty tame, to tell you the truth.

Watching the Trains

When I was a little girl one of my favorite things was for my grandfather to take me for a drive to the train yards in my town. Its an old enough city that the train yards are massive. I huge bridge crosses over the main part of them.

We would drive over the yards, and I would stand in the front seat, face pressed to the glass, and peer down over the edge of the bridge and look at the trains coming and going. For me, it was exciting to think of the trains heaped with coal going off to some big factory where they would use them to heat furnaces and make interesting things. (For me, it was usually toys) We would circle the cross street and my grandfather would drive back over them and I would look at the other trains, the empty box cars, and wonder what had been in them and where they would go now.

I would get especially excited if we saw a train moving down the tracks. There was a side street shortly after the bridge and my grandfather would turn down that if there were any actually moving. We would drive parallel to the tracks and I would look up in wonder at the cars. They were so much bigger up close. I loved them.

One of the parks in my hometown had an old caboose to a train in the center, and I remember when we went swimming there in the summertime how I would wander up to it and stare, the sun baking my shoulders as I clutched my towel to my chest. Where had that train been before it stopped being used. Why had they stopped using it?


Last week I was in that older part of town and I saw that there is a full train there now, fenced in to keep out vandals and teenagers looking for a place to make out. I drove to that old bridge and saw that there was construction. They are rebuilding it, and I wonder if now the walls of the bridge will be so high that I can't look over the edge and see the trains anymore. Even now, when I drive over that bridge, I crane my neck to look at them. If Kitten is driving, I'll loose the thread of the converstation as I stare at the increasingly desolate looking train yard. Sometimes I wonder where the trains are going. Sometimes I wonder what they have in them. Mostly, though, I wonder how I found them so glamorous as a child and why I still love to stare at them.

It may not come as a suprise to you but I live very near a railroad track. It wasn't a concious decision, Kitten bought her home in the downtown area of my city, and surrounding it is an indistrial area. It never bothers me. At night, I can listen to the sound of the trains passing by. It helps me to sleep. Sometimes I can almost smell the leather of my grandfather's giant Lincoln and feel it bouncing beneath my feet as I close my eyes and drift away.