Hi! Yes, nice to met you, too! Carl, did you say? Oh sorry. Kale! Kale? Kale! And who is this little buttonhead in the stroller? Enid? What a sweet name! Hi, Enid! Hi, Enid! Aww, Enid’s shy. Welcome to the neighborhood, Kale and Enid!
Gosh, isn’t that typical, I just meet someone for the first time and I look like I’ve done my hair with a fidget spinner. Sorry! I usually fix it first thing in the morning. I’ve got that big cowlick on the one side, and the flat spot in the back, and it just takes a little floofing but I must’ve gotten distracted this morning. Anyhoo!
Yeah, I’m in between haircuts, so it’s a little weird. Right, Astrid? You haven’t even had a haircut yet, have you, honey? Cute little button. Oh, Enid, right, sorry.
The garden? Thanks! I try. It looks a little funky now because the spring bulbs are all done and it’s just a bunch of brown crap, and the fall perennials haven’t really come in yet. I’d have had a nice new mulch down by now but I haven’t even started weeding. There was all that rain, and then it got so dang hot, and you know. Yeah, last week would’ve been perfect, but I had a thing. Monday. And I had another thing Tuesday. I had all the things last week, I swear. Anyhoo.
Sheesh, you’d think I could’ve gotten that little postage stamp of a lawn done by now, right, Chive? Sorry. Kale. Mower’s in the shop. Four weeks out. Swear to God, every year. You think you’re going to get to it, and then the rains come, and all of a sudden it’s up to here, and you haul out the mower and she’s-a no work. I called a company and you know they want eighty bucks for that little patch? I don’t think so. Kids used to do a whole yard for three bucks when I was coming up. Yeah, that was a long time ago, you’re right about that.
Anyway, nice to meet you, Chard–no, I’d better not shake hands, I’ve been in the chicken shit. Ordinarily you wouldn’t see me out in public in an old shirt and torn pants and these clodhoppers, but hey, you caught me just when I was thinking about getting to some of these weeds. No sense being a fashion plate in the garden, right? Be nice to get all this done and shower up and put on a nice outfit and enjoy the place. You all should come back in a few days. Bring your wife too. Pardon me? Gerald? Bring Gerald. We’ll sit out back and have a beer. Not for you, Aphid! Ha ha! You’re too little!
Enid. Swear to God, I’ve got a mind like a, like a, you know. You drain your spaghetti in it. Mind like a cauliflower.
Colander! Yeah, that’s what I meant. Hey, why don’t you and little Edna pop inside for a second, and I’ll write your name down so I don’t forget it, because otherwise I totally will, and I’ll give you my email. Come on in. No, no, no need to take your shoes off, I’m going to have to vacuum soon anyway–obviously!–it’s usually a lot more picked up in here, but I had that thing. You want some water or something? Sure. Hang on. Let me just rinse this glass. I’ve got a note pad around here somewhere. It’s under that stack of mail, I think. Don’t trip on the laundry basket, I was just getting around to that. Let me shut that door–no one needs to see my sewing room while I’m in the middle of something! I’ll just shut this one too.
Help with all this? I never really thought about it. I mean, why pay someone to do something I’m perfectly capable of doing? Huh. Your mom, you say? Oh, your grandma. Well sure. She’d be a lot older than me. She’s how old? Oh. Huh. Every other week, huh? Sure. I’ll bet it looks real spiffy. You know, if you’re into that kind of thing. Sometimes I think people care a little too much about appearances, if you ask me. I mean, no matter how much you clean, it just gets dirty again. We’re all going to drop dead soon enough anyway. Bam. Finito. Here’s my email. Thanks for dropping by! Careful of that door on your way out. Wind gets ahold of it and it can have a helluva kick to it. Smack you right in the fanny.
So, new neighbours? Nice of you to talk to them. I've been here 7 years now and still haven't met all my neighbours. In my defence there has been several turnovers during those years, people come, people go…that's public housing for you.
Just passersby, really, but we get a ton of those, and we usually talk to them, and sometimes get them beers.
When I was a kid, everyone in the neighborhood knew everyone else. Some were even really good friends. People would visit. Even as recently as the start of the Millennium, there would be block parties. Then people started to die off… or move to a smaller house… and new neighbors had a turnover like restaurant workers. It was no use getting to know someone if you suspect they'd just move again in a couple years. Everyone else works all sorts of odd hours, so no one's schedule jibes with anyone else's. As a result, there are damned few neighbors that I actually know well enough to more than wave at. It's sad, because it's really hard to make a REAL friend (NOT a FaceBook "friend") once you get older. It's not like I can ask them over to play Barbies anymore. At least not without getting some weird looks.
This is one of the functions of beer. Hey! I never had a Barbie! (Or any other doll. Strictly a stuffed animal girl.)
Play dates. We should have play dates with new neighbours.
Cribbage? Croquet? Swinging?
Your offering today made me fall over laughing because I feel just like the blog. Way behind in everything: the dust is gray on my bookcases – my floors need a vac – my laundry is waiting to be folded today. And my garden? Ha Ha Ha Fantastic in my mind but not in reality. Thanks so much for making me laugh so darned hard at myself. Oh, despite some wicked bad viral infection last week I climbed on a ladder w/ my extension squeegee (sp?) & did those damn cathedral ceiling windows!!! I was so proud. Idiot that I am.
A lot of those dust problems go away when the sun hits a different window. Congratulations on your feat. Truly heroic!
Colander? A mind like a colander is a terrible thing to waste. See what you did now?
Though you mind is a colander, you showed your new neighbors lovely "sieve-ility."
Good job, there!
1/2 American Gothic
I've never actually spun or fidged one.
Right there with you on the whole shebang!!
Is it just women who apologize for their personal and domestic conditions?
Yes. We seem to feel it is our responsibility and that its' condition reflects something about our character. Men are for the most part oblivious to the condition of the domestic scene, except perhaps for the yard. But if you are talking about cars, then it is more likely a guy may feel it is a reflection of character.
My car is just as disreputable as everything else, but you're right–I don't care about that.
So funny! Loved this. The words were so great. Musical in a very fun and funny way.
We used to know neighbors, then moved to our in-laws' neighborhood in a different state (caregiving time) and have discovered it's a neighborhood where it's mostly best to not know the neighbors.
It IS a woman thing and chlost hit the mark to explain it. Kim in PA
Remember when people like us were the laughingstock of the community? And we helped make them that? No?
I remember nothing. It's peaceful.
I would find this funny, but you sound just like me!!
"And you sound just like me."
I'm going "heh heh heh" and thinking "dang it, she's just joking but I've got the real thing at my house and should I admit to that or not?" Anyhoo. You are very funny 🙂
And sex-AY in that get-up!! How does Dave resist?
Who said he resists?
He resisted long enough to take the picture! Otherwise, good point.
It's that "domestic hottie" look that does us in.
The beauty of minds like yours and mine are that when we do get addled, no one will be able to tell that much difference. Thanks for the laughs. I needed something to smile about today. Glad you provided it.
I'm well on the way to pure dotty.
I remember the names of the animals in the street much better than the names of people who claim ownership. And my gardening self is no fashion plate. (None of my selfs are fashion plates). The garden work is never done either. Nearly done sometimes, but then life (and weeds) get in the way.
I'm curious what you grow. I know it will be weird. Everything there is weird.
Check out EC's blog, Murr – she posts lots of garden pictures, and they're gorgeous!
Headin' right over.
Beautiful full garden there. It's bee a lifelong hobby for me and now pretty much my only one and I'm ok with that. In spite of her dementia my spouse now help me a lot as we slowly convert lawn and woods space to native wildflowers…:)
Excellent! I have no lawn, actually–I was referring to the neighbor property, our rental–because the other stuff was too interesting. But I sure get a kick out of the people who tell me how smart I am to get rid of a lawn because "they're so much work." Jeez! You just mow it! Try deadheading all THIS shit!