Now that our house is on the market,
I’ve been thinking a lot about our neighborhood, and specifically our neighbors. We really do have good ones and have been lucky. Every neighborhood has that one house that is a black eye on an otherwise pretty face, and ours is no exception. With that in mind, and having recently read this post by Zadge about her crazy neighbor, I thought I would share with you some Tales from our Hood.
First of all, for the longest time we didn’t know the names of many neighbors. We had nicknames for them all. We still use those nicknames even though we know their real names now (or at least I do…CJ doesn’t because he’s nicer than me). I’ll use those nicknames here, to spare the innocent.
The first neighbors we met when we moved in were The Potheads. This is a couple with 2 kids – a boy and a girl. As we were unloading the truck, Mr. Pothead came over and greeted us. He was very nice but he chain smokes. So does the Mrs. She would flick her cigs in our yard as she was pulling out of the driveway. The kids were the kind that have no boundaries and would constantly be over in our yard, all up in our bidness. We called them the Potheads because we heard a story that they used to grow the stuff in their garage. Rumor has it they offered to make some “special” candles for the local elementary school craft sale. The school said thanks but no thanks. I don’t think they grow or smoke pot anymore and their kids are grown up now (both in high school) and have turned out fine. Despite our initial misgivings, they are a nice family and though we’ve never asked, would help us out in a pinch. I’ll remember that next time I need some candles.
The next neighbors to come in to our lives were Superman and his family. No, we don’t really live next to Clark Kent (though that would totally be awesome and suck at the same time) (awesome because we’d have a super hero next to us to keep us safe) (sucky because his house would be targeted a lot). We call him Superman because he has a huge Superman decal on the back of his truck. They have 3 boys. Or 4. I’m still not sure. They all look-alike and I can never keep track of them. At one time they had a chocolate lab who would hop our fence to come play with Samson, who didn’t waste any time showing him who was boss!
Superman and his wife are now divorced. She and the boys still live in that house, which turns out is her moms. I’ve never talked to Superman. He waved to me once when he was out playing catch with the boys (which is the only thing I’ve ever seen him do…never mowing the lawn or going to work or shoveling…just playing catch once in a while. Maybe that’s why they’re divorced). I’ve talked to his wife several times. She’s very sweet. The boys are good too, though wild at times. They used to ride their bikes across our lawn which bugged the bejeezusout of me. I almost accidentally
on purpose backed over them one time when they zoomed behind my car. They don’t do it anymore.
Then there are the neighbors across the street and next door to us who are the nicest people ever. The ones next door are down home folk who seem to have walked straight off the ranch. He has a rusty old truck and wears cowboy boots and hats. She wears a straw hat, is always tan and says things like “warsh”. They seem to have a constant stream of people staying with them too. For a while it was their son (who’s in the army), daughter-in-law and their kids. Then it was a niece. Then her dad. Then their son again. Right now it’s just the 2 of them and I think it’s driving them a little batty.
The other super nice couple has a son who is graduating from high school this year. We’re going to his party on Sunday. They have baby-sat Isabella for us several times, which is so sweet of them. They just love her. They have a dog who loves/hates Samson. He runs to the window and barks every time he sees The Big Dude outside. But when they try to bring him over to play, he cowers and just rolls over as if to say, “Dude, I know you’re bigger, stronger and more tenacious than me. Let’s cut to the chase. Here, sniff my butt while I die of humiliation.”
Behind us is Red and his wife. Never did find out their real names. They are super gardeners though. Half of their yard is a garden, with cucumbers in back, along our fence. Some of them end up growing through the fence and in to our yard. Samson likes to pick them off and have a nice snack every once in a while. Then he goes over and pees on the rhubarb. Guess he’s not a fan.
Finally, there is the neighborhood Font, as in font of information. You know, the one person on the street who knows everything that is going on. The person who hears all the stories and is the go-to-one-stop-shop for information. She’s the one who told me about Girl with Hands in Pants. Remember how I mentioned the house on the street that is an eye sore? Well that’s where GWHIP lived. They were living there when we moved in. They don’t live there anymore. That house is a rental and they were weird people. The kids ran wild and were a bad influence on the other neighborhoods rugrats. GWHIP was the oldest (probably about 14 then) and was big – tall and, um, stout. She had blonde hair that was always dirty. I kind of felt bad for them. Anyway, the Font has 2 boys. They are grown but still live at home. I guess GWHIP had a crush on one or both and would walk slowly in front of their house, hoping to see them through the windows. One night, they looked out to see her standing on their sidewalk, with her hand down the front of her pants, staring in the windows (hence the name). The Font ran outside and told the girl to go home. The family moved away eventually and their house was left vacant. The landlord even abandoned it. It was truly falling apart until a couple bought it just a few months ago (for a steal) and started working on it.
That’s about it for the neighbors we really know. There are some others that we’ve met over the years – Man with German Shepherd, The Walker, Daycare Lady, Motorcycle Dude, Fergus Dog Guy and so on. But the ones above are the neighbors who we’ve known the most. I’m sure we’ll meet all kinds of new and interesting people in the new house. I’ll miss the ones we have now. The way the world works, we’ll probably never see them again, which is sad. But who knows, maybe GWHIP will turn out to be Isabella’s high school teacher one day.
Lord help me if that day comes.
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