Neighbors' Mysteries Revealed!

Busy, busy, busy, which is not really an excuse (except that it is) for not making an entry sooner.

Had a really good piano lesson tonight with O. I actually managed to do a decent job of a murderously difficult (for me) piece.

I made up my mind about what I would be willing to pay to have a water line installed so I could have ice and cold water from my new frig. When I got a quote from my plumber it was exactly what I was willing to pay (no, I hadn't given my plumber a hint). Now I can say it's worth two or three times what I paid to have it hooked up; I love it.

I finally bought a digital camera! It takes great pictures and videos, though I'm finding the videos hard to upload because they're so big. But I plan to do more when I get a chance. I really enjoy taking pictures of my babies with the 12X optical zoom.

Now -- about the neighbors! Continuing line of different cars and trucks coming and going. One day I noticed that one of my fence planks was nearly rotted and broken, and the neighbors had put their trash containers in front of it to help keep their dog in. So the next time I saw the man I told him I would get a new plank and replace the broken one. He said he'd be glad to nail it up if I'd lend him a hammer and some nails.

So last Saturday I went beside his house with the plank (I was going to do it myself), and called nicely to the dog tied up in the backyard. When he started barking the young black woman came out and warned me off until she got the dog inside. The man came out and offered to nail up the plank. I ain't no fool about work -- so I let him.

Turns out his name is Milton and he's got 8 children. When I asked him if he ever found out what was causing it he burst out laughing. I asked where he worked, and he said he was on disability. Turns out he'd been shot something like 9 or 10 times during a home invasion crime wave we'd had a year or so ago. "I drove into my garage and there they were," he said. "I gave 'em my wallet, thinking that's all they wanted." It was then I realized all the scars on his body (he was wearing a sleeveless tee-shirt) were healed-over bullet holes. He said he'd been in the hospital for 11 months. That's why he has two dogs now (I thought he only had one); to warn him if there are any prowlers. There is no garage with his house next door.

He has a son in Florida who was due to visit the next day (and a car with Florida plates did arrive the next day). There were two cute little boys hanging out in the yard, who turned out be his sons and evidently were visiting that weekend. Plus there's a baby (or two?). I didn't ask how many mothers were involved in this extended family.

He kept calling me "ma'am," which I encouraged him not to do, but he said it was a habit. I like polite people.

Neighbors' Mysteries Revealed!

Busy, busy, busy, which is not really an excuse (except that it is) for not making an entry sooner.

Had a really good piano lesson tonight with O. I actually managed to do a decent job of a murderously difficult (for me) piece.

I made up my mind about what I would be willing to pay to have a water line installed so I could have ice and cold water from my new frig. When I got a quote from my plumber it was exactly what I was willing to pay (no, I hadn't given my plumber a hint). Now I can say it's worth two or three times what I paid to have it hooked up; I love it.

I finally bought a digital camera! It takes great pictures and videos, though I'm finding the videos hard to upload because they're so big. But I plan to do more when I get a chance. I really enjoy taking pictures of my babies with the 12X optical zoom.

Now -- about the neighbors! Continuing line of different cars and trucks coming and going. One day I noticed that one of my fence planks was nearly rotted and broken, and the neighbors had put their trash containers in front of it to help keep their dog in. So the next time I saw the man I told him I would get a new plank and replace the broken one. He said he'd be glad to nail it up if I'd lend him a hammer and some nails.

So last Saturday I went beside his house with the plank (I was going to do it myself), and called nicely to the dog tied up in the backyard. When he started barking the young black woman came out and warned me off until she got the dog inside. The man came out and offered to nail up the plank. I ain't no fool about work -- so I let him.

Turns out his name is Milton and he's got 8 children. When I asked him if he ever found out what was causing it he burst out laughing. I asked where he worked, and he said he was on disability. Turns out he'd been shot something like 9 or 10 times during a home invasion crime wave we'd had a year or so ago. "I drove into my garage and there they were," he said. "I gave 'em my wallet, thinking that's all they wanted." It was then I realized all the scars on his body (he was wearing a sleeveless tee-shirt) were healed-over bullet holes. He said he'd been in the hospital for 11 months. That's why he has two dogs now (I thought he only had one); to warn him if there are any prowlers. There is no garage with his house next door.

He has a son in Florida who was due to visit the next day (and a car with Florida plates did arrive the next day). There were two cute little boys hanging out in the yard, who turned out be his sons and evidently were visiting that weekend. Plus there's a baby (or two?). I didn't ask how many mothers were involved in this extended family.

He kept calling me "ma'am," which I encouraged him not to do, but he said it was a habit. I like polite people.

On Second Thought

This morning I awoke to the trees being coated with an inch of ice, branches bowed down to the ground. Some of the branches were touching my house and there was an occasional whoosh and crack as more limbs broke off.

We got two more inches of snow on top of the inch of ice. And, of course, the power went back out at quarter past noon. I waited until about 3, then packed up the birds and went to C's house. The utilities company said power was out for over 500,000 in the state and they expected it would take two weeks before power would be completely restored.

Around two (and the main reason I left) the young woman from next door came over to ask again if I was all right because they were leaving again. She handed me a piece of paper with two numbers on it -- "my grandma's number" and "my number." No names, which wouldn't do me any good anyway, since I don't know my neighbors' names.

I aged about 30 more years after this encounter, just as I did last night. But C's husband explained to me that the city was urging everyone to check on their neighbors if they were elderly or if they lived alone. So I'm going to assume they were nicely checking up on me because I live alone rather than thinking I'm old, old, old.

Very kind of them and I suppose I need to ask their names. sigh . . .

It was tricky getting out of my subdivision but once I got onto the main roads I was okay. The temperatures were around 30 and the main roads were wet and blocked with the occasional fallen limb. But the temperature is dropping to the 20s and the wet roads are frozen.

About the only way I'll know if the power is back on my house is to drive over there, and I'm not too eager to do that on frozen streets. So C and I and three of her daughters and her green-check conure are watching Youtube. And giggling. Her umbrella cockatoo is trying to sleep under his covers beside the kitchen table where we're all gathered. My babies are in their little travel cages in the basement with their covers over them. Soon I'll be down there with them to sleep on the couch.

sigh . . .

I've got my voice back and I fully intend to make dress rehearsal tomorrow night. But the logistics are going to drive me crazy.

Ice Storm, Neighbors, Darkness . . .

I've been home since Monday afternoon with some version of sinusitis, laying on the couch taking antibiotics and decongestants and occasionally cruising the internet until it's time for another nap.

We had an ice storm here last night -- about an inch of ice over everything and maybe half an inch of snow. Everything looks lovely -- from inside. The local TV people kept telling us this afternoon that tonight would be seriously worse than last night and to not go outside if possible. I took them at their word. Many areas of the city were without power.

Because I work in a hospital I'm expected to be at work no matter the weather or conditions (though they do draw the line at risking your life to get to the office). Even though all I do is shuffle papers, I'm still expected to be there. So I felt a little guilty that I was home sick while all this awful weather was happening, and knowing how my co-workers were scraping ice off their cars and braving the icy roads. Plus you're never allowed to take sick leave during a weather or other emergency unless you have "proof" of illness. But I have the receipt from the doctor's office and my little cache of drugs as proof to anyone.

I was laying on the couch, not watching the TV that was on, when the power went out. I had already put the birds to bed, i.e., put the covers over their cages. I had my laptop in my lap so I used its light to make my way to the hall closet where I had put my big flashlight. Except that it wasn't there. I help my laptop at different angles to search but finally gave up. I found one of those cheap round battery-operated lights you're supposed to be able to stick on your walls, but they never worked long for me. But this one worked. And I did manage to find my Black & Decker SnakeLight, which I love.

Back to the couch I went, when I heard something crunching through hard snow across my front yard. Then someone began banging on my door. I took my little round disc light, opened the front door, and shone the light at the person there. It was a young black woman, her face nearly hidden in her faux fur hood. Was I okay, she asked.

I noticed the big truck next door was running and could see its tail lights lit. I assured her I was fine and then I asked if she was from next door. She smiled and said yes.

"Y'all leaving," I asked.

"Yeah, we're going to grandma's!"

"Have a good time," I said, as she crunched her way back to the truck. I could almost smell the popcorn and hot cocoa.

Our subdivision is completely dead without light, and many people leave when there's a power outage. So it was nice of the neighbors to ask about me. But it also made me feel approximately 2,319 years old. You know, the old lady in the neighborhood that parents make their children "check on."

Back to the couch, as befits an "old" person. I propped the light on my belly and read my way through my latest issue of The Sun (a magazine I highly recommend). Time passed.

An hour. Ninety minutes. The occasional snap and crash of a limb breaking under the weight of ice. Sirens. The sound of tires far off spinning on ice.

I had a blanket on the couch (again, like an "old" person would have) and I tried to map out what I would do if the temperature dropped into the 20s or teens. My entire house is electric. It was feeling a bit chilly but more like walking into a really cool room after being out in the hot sun.

Two hours.

My car is covered with ice and mired in hard crunchy snow. If things got bad I'd have to take my birds somewhere. How long would it take me to clean off and warm up the car? Should I call my vet's office or home now to reserve a space? Should I just wait it out? The temperature had hovered around 30 all day and my house is pretty well insulated, so I decided to wait it out.

Several years ago we had a horrible ice storm. Power out in my area for seven days; some other areas ten days. And it was very, very cold. I managed to get my birds to a pet store that was accepting animals and still had power -- my vet's office was overflowing by the time I realized the power wasn't coming back on. For two nights I slept at the hospital -- the first night on the floor of my office because I couldn't find a security guard to let me onto the floor where some beds were open; the second night in a room overlooking the emergency entrance. It was a bad storm and a bad experience for most of the state, and we all learned a lot from it.

Would I have to do the same thing tonight? Plus I was sick and being out in the ice wouldn't help matters at all. I had made my doctor swear that the antibiotics and decongestants would work in time so that I could sing at dress rehearsal Thursday night and the concert Saturday night -- this was no time to risk getting sicker if it could be avoided.

Two and a half hours. I finished The Sun and dug around the shelf under the coffee table for another magazine to read. I asked the birds if they were all right, but of course they refused to answer.

A flicker of light, darkness, then full power returned. And stayed. It's been back on for about 30 minutes now, and the heat pump is on in full force. It got to 61 degrees in the house so the birds were in no danger, and everything in the refrigerator is just about as cold as it was three hours ago, so that's fine, too.

It's still very pretty outside though -- all that ice coating all those limbs, shining in the street lights.

I'm going to bed, and I'll be leaving a little light on. Just in case.

Autumn

Rain today and cold tonight. Cold forecast for tomorrow as well.

The rain is very welcome; we're in a moderate drought here, but other counties in the state are in a severe drought.

But the first of the autumn rains means summer is over. And I'm not ready.

I've started back with my piano lessons, which means learning chords and trying to get my fingers to stretch and move independently of each other. But during today's practice I actually played two songs in mostly correct time and with chords. Yea!

A friend had to put down her German Shepherd yesterday. Looking over this blog I realize how many deaths that have touched me in some way there have been this year. I'm in my mid-50s now, and I guess I should get used to it. But I don't think you ever get used to it.

My mom had her 79th birthday Tuesday. For several months now she's been saying, "In a year I'll be eighty years old!" in an alarmed voice. I told her she'd better be enjoying her 79th year rather than worrying about something a year away. An old boyfriend called her, but said he didn't realize it was her birthday. Their breakup was bad; they're both stubborn and contrary and they both need to lighten up a little. But it's her business, not mine. She and I are kinda taking bets to see if he calls again and asks her out.

As for the neighbors . . . this past weekend a white Cadillac was in the driveway. Last Friday I finally got an Obama/Biden yard sign and I stuck in the yard. A few days later I saw the neighbors (who live on the corner) had put one in their yard, right at the corner.

Then maybe Monday when I parked and opened the car door, two of the puppies (now a lot bigger) came running over. I knocked on their door and said their dogs were out; the young black woman who I never see outside anymore said they had let the dogs out, they hadn't "escaped" from the fenced-in yard. She apologized, and I said it was fine -- I just didn't know if they were supposed to be out or not. While we were talking the puppies were all over my feet, playing.

Charli is still picking at her leg feathers. I think/guess what's happened is that I give all my babies Nutriberries as a nighttime treat, plus Charli eats her veggies and so on plus my dinner, which means she isn't eating as much of her Harrison's high-potency. When she doesn't eat Harrison's high-potency, she plucks. So I'm cutting back on the Nutriberries and putting more Harrison's high-potency pellets in her Special Treat Dish. She ate them last night, so I've got my fingers crossed that's why she's plucking her little leg feathers.

Well, I need to go. Sugar Franklin is on my shoulder, demanding scritches.

Waiting

Things have been relatively quiet lately. All is quiet with the neighbors. A never-ending stream of those awful political ads for senator of our state. Got a haircut today, too short, like a man's haircut -- but it'll grow out soon enough (I hope). Got a pedicure and manicure today. Got a full tank of gas and enough food and supplies to keep me for a month if necessary, and enough bird foods for a month or so.

Not that I'm paranoid, you understand. If this sort of thing interests you, just Google for October 7, 2008 and/or for web bot project. Two other sites are urbansurvival.com and halfpasthuman.com.

I have no doubt we're on the verge of an economic collapse. We can't keep living on credit the way we have been (businesses, government, individuals) without paying the price -- so to speak.

If there's any doubt among my two or three readers -- I'm voting Obama. I cannot abide the thought of another four years of Bush in the guise of McCain. Several of my friends and I have been having a wonderful time exchanging links about Palin and the October 7 "event" and the economy. Things can look so bad you have to laugh or lose your mind.

My little birds are perfect, as always. Nicholas makes kissy noises after bedtime -- I think he's fussing at me for staying up past his bedtime. I've been keeping Sugar Franklin out longer than usual and giving her more scritches -- she's been short-tempered with me lately and I think maybe she's been shortchanged (or believes she's been shortchanged) on attention from me. She's responded well to this extra attention, though she still bites my ear once in awhile just because.

Neighbors, Neighbors, Neighbors

Saturday I happened to glance out the window at my backyard -- there were three or four of the neighbors' puppies playing and rolling around in the yard.

I walked over and the young black woman (whom I haven't seen for several weeks) came to the door and came out on the porch. About the same time the puppies came running across my front yard to the neighbors' front yard. I leaned down and petted one of them (they really are cute), while the young black woman apologized several times. The man who lives there watched all this from inside the living room.

Haven't seen the Asian looking woman for several days, though the red car she drives is parked in the street (presumably so the man can get his big copper-colored truck in and out of the driveway).

More news as it happens!

The picture of two baby cockatiels is from morguefile.com. I figured a picture of baby cockatiels would nicely complement a small story about puppies.

Neighbors & Bailing Out Wall St

I had what I thought was a friendly moment with the Asian looking woman this afternoon. She had come out of the house to put some mail in their mailbox just as I was coming in from work. Five of the puppies followed her out the door. They wandered over to my yard and she frantically tried to shoo them back to her yard. I complimented the puppies several times; they really were cute little things, and I asked what breed they were. She said they were "blue pits," and she was going to sell them for a friend.

I am extremely unhappy about this bailout of Wall Street. Thanks to Reagan's deregulation and "trickle down" theory and the Republicans gorging at the public trough, we've all been getting screwed for decades now. And now these guys want the government to bail them out; they want a blank check and they want it right now. Just ask Paulson; he'll tell you the economy will tank if Congress doesn't bail them out within a week.

And what, exactly, are we, the lowly taxpayer, getting out of this? (Pass the vaseline, please.) I've watched my 401(k) drop by nearly half this year, most of the losses from the past four months. I'll never be able to retire with what I and my employer contribute to my 401(k) as long as this crap keeps happening. Yes, I know eventually the economy will turn around, but how many years will it take?

Neighbors (again)

Let's see -- the young black woman hasn't been seen in several weeks, but the young Asian looking woman has evidently taken up residence.

A month or so ago an older white woman was visiting or staying there, and there was a big metal milk crate full of gray puppies, all squeezed in there together. It was hot, and they had no water or food -- just sitting out in the front yard, yelping like puppies do.

A couple of times I've seen the Asian woman with one or two of the puppies (now nearly grown, though I don't know the breed) out in the side yard. When we make eye contact I always smile, but we rarely make eye contact. In fact, it seems to me she gathers up the dog(s) and puts them inside when she sees me, but that could be my imagination.

The dog, Champ, who gets loose all the time is generally kept in the house, and barks a lot when he's in the backyard.

When I got home from work the copper colored truck had all its doors opened. There were two toddlers in the back seat and the man who lives there had one of the gray dogs, but I didn't stop to see if he took it in or put it in the truck. He closed the back doors, climbed into the driver's seat, and the Asian woman locked the front door and got in the passenger side of the truck. And off they went.

I don't know if they're breeding dogs or what. And I don't much care.

Work was fine until the Evil Committee -- I've made it clear to my supervisor that I want a transfer. She's promised to help, if anything comes up on the job sheet. I'm also requesting a job reclassification in order to get some more money; if I have to put up with certain people on a regular basis and can't get transferred, I deserve a hell of a lot more money than I'm getting now.

This weekend I added my name to Google Alerts, just in case someone out there is using my name in vain. I have a name that is not very popular or common, so I've only gotten three or four alerts -- all obituaries.

Charli and Sugar Franklin are having snits now. I had them both out for awhile until the pizza arrived. So I put them back so they could have some crust with me. Now, neither one wants to come out and let me scritch their head. Even the Bobbsey Twins are ignoring me.

Charli is due for her annual well-bird exam next Tuesday.

Wonder if my babies have forgiven me yet . . . .

Update: Little Flash just flew over to me from his cage, unbidden. I picked him up and gave him my daily little kiss and thanked him for coming over and cheering me up. I'm a lucky girl.

Neighborly Update

The dark maroon sedan is gone. The big copper-colored truck is back as is the red car. I saw the young Asian-looking woman getting out of the red car as I was picking up my mail yesterday. I haven't seen the young black woman for two weeks or so.

The dog is in their backyard tonight, barking like crazy at 8:30 pm. We have noise ordinances that include barking dogs.

Perhaps I should write a soap opera, based on the neighbors.

Neighbors

The copper-colored truck and the red car have been gone for several days now. This morning there was a dark maroon sedan with in-state plates in the driveway.

On second thought, I probably don't want to know what's going on over there.

Got an appointment to get little Nicholas' toenails cut tomorrow; his front nails always grow so long and so fast. The vet and I can't figure it out. Of course, the appointment just happens to be at the same time as the rescheduled Evil Committee meeting. Oh dear me . . .

Close Call

I went outside to pick up my mail. A woman was walking her big lab on the other side of the street. We waved at one another, though I have no idea who she was.

I turned back to my driveway, looking through the junk mail. I heard a dog barking furiously, so I took one step into the grass of my yard and leaned over to see if it was the neighbor's dog.

It was. He/she was going crazy with the barking and had been tied to what looked like a coiled, wrapped wire. He rushed out at me but the wire held. For a moment. Then the stake came loose from the ground, and he ran toward me.

I froze, though I was telling myself to move! move! move! I remembered the young black woman telling me he wouldn't bite anyone, that he was very friendly. But this creature flying toward me and barking didn't look very friendly. He was running so fast that his feet didn't even touch the ground. The neighbor's dog noticed the other dog while he was about three feet from me, so he headed off toward the woman and her dog who were now on the corner, watching in horror. This entire event took maybe thirty seconds.

I ran to the neighbor's front porch and rang the bell about 4 times. The man came to the door (I noticed he wasn't that old and was, in fact, pretty good looking).

"Your dog has gotten loose and is chasing me and that other dog," I said, pointing to the woman who was pulling her dog away. The neighbor's dog was just barking but not making any threatening moves toward the woman and her dog.

"Come here, Champ," the black man called. He came outside and headed to the corner.

"I'm sure he's friendly," I said, "but it's scary to have him chase you like that."

"Come on, Champ," he called again. We didn't speak further.

I went on into my house and tried to get my blood pressure back to normal. I've never been attacked by an animal before, though I've been bitten. It was a horrible feeling.

Last Vacation Day

Last vacation day for awhile. Tomorrow I have to go back to that Evil Place and shuffle papers. Oh well, things could be worse.

I feel a lot better than I did earlier. Just needed more sleep, I guess.

Heard from DF today; haven't heard from him in a long time. He's doing well, and we both promised we'd do better about staying connected. The sad thing is that we both really, really mean it.

I thought I heard the dog next door barking Thursday night, when I got home, but I haven't heard it since. Or seen it. I hope they're keeping it inside, not letting it run loose in hopes it'll run away and no longer be a problem for them. Maybe they don't know what happens when a dog ends up in the pound. Cute dog, too; kinda boxer and mutt mix -- loud bark but very friendly. People who don't take care of their animals are not people I want to know.

Finished maybe half of The Gift, and I highly recommend it to anyone with any amount of creativity whatsoever -- which means everyone. It's about, as Baron put it, the anthropology of poetry, but it's about more than that. It's a way of understanding and learning to live with what is valued in our society and what is not -- without diminishing the two.

And I am still trudging through The Art of the Personal Essay by Philip Lopate. It's in choronological order, and around about RL Stevenson I skipped ahead. The language in the earlier English stuff is too ornate for me, though I appreciate its value within its own time. I liked Seneca and the early Greek works.

I dread going back to work and seeing the English language butchered by people who truly believe themselves to be great editors and writers. When in reality they don't have a clue. Take capitalization, for example. The title of a job is NOT capitalized unless it's directly attached to the person holding that job. Chief medical officer is not capitalized unless it's Alice Doe, Chief Medical Officer. Yet these poor souls capitalize stuff like that repeatedly. More suck-up value. They don't capitalize nurse or technician or manager (and consistency is the first thing you learn as an editor). And when I refuse to capitalize non-proper nouns I get told I'm wrong and don't know what I'm talking about and to just do what the ignorant tell me to do. I refer them to any book on basic grammar, but of course, they already know everything and don't need to look it up.

I've heard people say that any noun preceded by "the" is automatically a proper noun and should be capitalized. And any title is a proper noun. Where on earth do people get this stuff?

A lot of it is stylistic, based on who makes the most money. Nurse isn't capitalized because they're mostly women and don't make as much as the male chief medical officer. It's as simple as that.

Earlier this year I came across a blog about Humphrey the parrot. His last entry was about being moved from England to America, and about being sick after quarantine. At least once every week or so I'd check on the blog to see how he was doing, but there were never any updates. The latest issue of Bird Talk reprinted some correspondence about a woman adopting a special needs bird of the same species as her parrot Humphrey, who had died six days after the last date of the blog. I wrote Bird Talk to forward a note to her. It was obvious from the blogs how loved and cherished Humphrey was, and when the owner said he was the light of her life and that his death devastated her, I knew she wasn't exaggerating. I'll take his blog off my bookmark list now.

I decided, at 10:47 am, to go to the movies today. It always feels so decadent to go to the movies during a work day. I went to see Brideshead Revisited, which I haven't seen in decades -- so long ago with Jeremy Irons that I'd forgotten what it's about.

Why is it that great literary works of art nearly always involve dysfunctional families?

Home Again, Home Again

I unlocked the front door and took a few steps into the front hall. "Is anybody home?" I asked, as I often do.

Silence.

I took a few more steps into the living room and looked at the cages. "Isn't anybody here?"

Stunned silence for maybe a full 20 seconds, then an alarming amount of chirping and calling.

I made a big fuss over seeing them, then went out to the car to get the rest of my stuff. They called after me, loudly, as if I might not come back.

Charli, I think, has been most affected. She's been watching me and hanging upside down, and also making a big show of eating a grape. She'll stop whatever she's doing once in awhile and just stare at me with those big dark liquid eyes.

Sugar keeps looking at me and chirping, while running back and forth.

The Bobbsey Twins, though chirping, don't seem to care one way or the other.

Got the shuttle yesterday morning at six; Leslie Ullman and another woman were passengers,too, so we talked about living in Taos, this other woman retiring as a physician, and me as a parrot behavior consultant.

The airline trip home was the usual wretched experience, but all the flights were on time.

Stopped by Wal-Mart this morning to do the one-hour photo delivery (I slept a good solid twelve hours last night), but their machine is broken and it may be a day or more. Then I went to one of my favorite breakfast places for an omelet. Instead of the usual home fries, I substituted fruit -- which turned out to be a bowl of red grapes (which I don't care for) and two tiny scraps of pineapple and three tiny chips of cantelope. I insisted on a better balance of fruits, and got it.

Had my first iced tea, unsweetened, no lemon in seven days. My life can continue now.

Stopped at Kroger's. Got a box of pre-washed mixed lettuces, some carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, apples, mushrooms, and grapes for me and the birds. Got some fresh blueberries, raspberries, and strawberry halves for Charli -- she loves fruit and the more expensive the better.

During one of my calls back home to L, she said the humane society left a big red warning tag on my door about my dog being unlicensed and wandering around the neighborhood, that a complaint had been filed about it.

I don't have a dog.

I knew, of course, it was meant for the neighbors. Their dog got out once and I told the young black woman who lives there; she apologized. I said I wasn't complaining, but I was sure she didn't want him running all over the place.

So when I got home yesterday, I marked through my house number and wrote in theirs. I rang the bell once since the big copper-colored truck was in the drive, but no one answered. So I left it hanging on the door handle. About an hour later I noticed it was gone. This morning there are two new cars in the drive. What on earth goes on over there?

Gotta go start dealing with all this dirty laundry!

Miracle in the Suburbs

Another so-so day at work.

Last night there were two extra cars in the neighbor's driveway. Either visitors or mourners; I hadn't seen the man (father) since he was driven away by EMS.

This afternoon there were three cars in the driveway and out on the street. I pulled my garbage container from my backyard to the curb (Fridays are garbage pick-up days). As I walked back to my porch, I heard, "Ma'am?"

I looked up and it was the young woman who'd made the long-distance call. She said, "My mama said she'd pay for the call."

"That's fine, " I said, "but I won't know how much it is until the bill comes in."

"And I can take your garbage out to the curb," she offered. "It comes tomorrow, right?"

"You don't have to do that," I pointed to the curb. "I've already taken it out."

"Oh."

"Well, when the bill comes in I'll bring it over to your dad." (She doesn't live there.)

"Okay."

"Is he doing okay," I asked.

"Oh yeah."

"He's home now?"

She nodded, and I smiled and said, "That's good."

She went back to her house and I unlocked my door and went in to greet my birds.

She was so polite I'm tempted to let the bill go! There may be hope for the next generation after all.

Then I decided it was a good day for bird torture. That's right -- I took each bird into the bathroom and gave each of them a spray bath. There was much fussing and struggling, but the deed is done and now I have four little wet birds preening their beautiful feathers.

No Good Deed

I went out for an early supper and when I got home two women were sitting on the porch next door; one looked like a teen-ager, the other in her late twenties. From what I could tell the guy had not yet come home from the hospital nor had the woman with the two babies returned. There were no cars in the drive or in front of the house.

I asked how things were, and the women said their dad was okay. Hmmm, he didn't look old enough to be these women's father, but I'm a terrible judge of age.

The older one asked to use my phone so I said, "No long distance, right" She shook her head and made her call. She talked for about five minutes then gave me back the phone. I checked the number and sure enough -- it was out of our area code. I went across the yard and said she'd have to pay for the call, that I don't have free long distance. She looked astonished and said she'd only called her sister. I repeated that it was long distance. Then she said she only talked for a minute. Like that took care of everything.

sigh . . .

I said I'd bring the bill over when it arrived and would expect to be paid then.

Yeah, right, like I'll ever get a dime out of her.

O, my piano teacher, is also a rental agent for this neighborhood. She happened to mention a few months ago that she'd signed up a nice young quiet woman with a baby to rent the house next to me. I nodded and said they'd all been moving in the weekend before.

"They?"

"Yeah, she's young and he's maybe in this 30s or 40s and some other guy."

"No," she said. "This was a young blond woman with a baby."

"Nope," I responded. "These people are black and I haven't seen a baby." I don't care who lives next door to me as long as they're quiet, don't throw trash in my yard, and aren't making meth or holding sex slavery auctions. In the years I've lived here I can't count the number of folks who've moved in and out of the rental houses on either side of me.

I could tell O was confused by who I said was living there, but I haven't mentioned it to her since, and I don't know what she did about it. Or if she did anything about it. There's also been a woman who faintly seems Asian coming and going who's always got her hair wrapped in a towel as if she'd just gotten out of the shower. And lots of other friends who come and go.

Well, I won't lend my phone to any of them again.

It's been a nice day today. Beautiful weather, though maybe 10 degrees too hot for me. I had the cockatiels out for a couple of hours, watching their busy goings and comings. Then I had Charli out for a couple of hours and scritched her head for most of that time.

Tomorrow starts the work week, then I have to get serious about getting myself ready to go to Vermont week after next. I've already made arrangements for L to bird sit for me, so I've got to get the keys to her soon.

I wish I could stay home from work like my birds and have someone scritch my head.

Update: Someone rang my doorbell twice at 11:30 pm, but I was too tired to get up. And this morning there's yet another out-of-state car in their driveway.

Hey -- I'm the nosey neighbor; it's my job to look as I drive off.

Rental Property

Instead of taking a nap yesterday afternoon I decided to get my hair cut. I informed the birds of my intention and opened the front door.

To find an EMS truck, complete with flashing lights, blocking my driveway. I walked out to the porch just as the paramedics brought out a stretcher from next door, carrying the young man who lives there. Well, I assume he lives there -- he's there a lot but then so are a lot of other people. It's a rental house so I never know.

Anyway, the paramedics loaded him into the truck and climbed in after him. And then nothing. I, based on my vast knowledge of EMS and ER activities based on my extensive reading of medical blogs, knew they were probably getting vitals and starting an IV.

I noticed the storm door had been propped open, so I went over and closed it then went back to my porch. A few minutes later the wife/girlfriend/young woman came hurrying out, carrying two babies in carriers. I didn't realize there was anyone else inside; otherwise I wouldn't have bothered the storm door. She got them settled in just as one of their friends drove up. She called to the friend and they talked for awhile.

And still the EMS truck didn't move. I wasn't in a hurry so it didn't matter to me how long they parked there.

Finally the truck pulled out. I waited until it was well on its way off my street, then started my car and backed out. The friend was getting back into his car, so I rolled down the window and asked if everything was okay. (duh) He said yes, his friend couldn't move his hip and the paramedics wouldn't let him enter the truck to see his friend.

So I guess it's official now -- I'm the nosey neighbor.