Who Can It Be Knockin' On My Door?

The police came to our house this morning. While I was still upstairs resting/sleeping. My first thought was, "Damn it. What the hell did Jeremiah do?" Which is redonk, because Jeremiah is like, a boy scout. But we all have our pasts, and you just never know*.

My second thought was, "I need to put on pants." as currently I was donning a t-shirt that I have had since I was 12 (If you were to think that means it has a lot of holes, you would be correct. A large piece of Swiss cheese would have offered more coverage.).

And on an aside, when I was in Vegas last week (Vegas, Baby!), a co-worker said she would be stopping by my room every morning and I was all, "If it takes me awhile to answer, don't be alarmed, I am just putting on pants." Then it occurred to me that this co-worker did not really know me that well, and it was probably more information that she wanted. And also? She might not stop by for fear of catching me without pants. And then I could wipe out on the tile floor in the bathroom and hit my head and DIE and no one would know.

Seriously, I can't be the only person who puts on their pants right before they head out, can I? I get my top half ready (hair, make-up, shirt) and THEN I put on pants. If I had nicer thighs and hips I might just forgo the pants altogether. Such a pain.

Anyway, the police came to the door this morning.

After I got over the fear of not having on pants and wondering what secret life Jeremiah might be leading, I got curious.

Me: Well???
J: They wanted to know about the neighbors.
Me: Smokey Smokersons? Those would be the creepy neighbors with the hound.
J: No, the house across the street. They were wondering about the cars parked and if there was a woman there and blah blah blah blah...So I told them blah blah blah blah...
Me: Silence for a bit. Jeremiah?
J: Yeah?
Me: You realize that you gave them wrong information? The neighbors you just told them about moved out over a year ago. They don't even live there anymore.
J: Shit.  So that's not the same truck?
Me: No.
J:Maybe I should go tell them what you told me.
Me: You think?

He came back in and told me that he told the police "That the one with the memory told me I was wrong, here's what is really happening at that house..." and the police told him that MY version of the neighbors matched another witness's/neighbor's story.

Now I am super curious about what is going on up in this neighborhood. Tell you what. We make every effort to be neighborly to two of the most normal neighbors on the street. Stick together. My new motto.

*At some point, I may share with you the time bounty hunters came to the house in the middle of the night with all sorts of weapons and scaring me almost to death. Having your house closed in on? Not a great feeling. I thought Jeremiah was at fault that time, too. He was not. And he loves the amount of trust I place in him.

Thank You, Netflix

It isn't too often that I feel the need to express my gratitude to a large company, especially to a company that has raised its prices significantly out of pure greed.

But here goes.

Netflix, I just want to thank you for categorizing the movie "Ghost" in the Thriller category, when it most obviously should be placed in Romance. That way, when Jeremiah asked what movie we were getting, I was able to be like, "Oh, we are getting Ghost. Haven't you seen it?" He had not. "You will LOVE it." I said. "It is the absolute best romantic movie, oops, I mean, the best thriller movie."

And then Jeremiah was like, "Wait a minute..." when we were watching it.

So thank you.

Hugs & Kisses,
Emily

p.s. Dear Friends, two things. One, Jeremiah admitted at the end that it wasn't too bad. I was like, duh. I mean, Whoopi, Demi, and Patrick?! Classic. Two,  As I write this my weird neighbor (who was upset because his yard got wet) is using a leaf blower to clean off his patio. There are no leaves. Or anything. Just the ashes from his cigarettes. At this rate, Jeremiah and I will die of second-hand smoke as he is out there all the time and the wind always blows it into our yard.

p.p.s. Favorite Movie?? I will go first. And probably last. I could watch Grosse Point Blank a trillion times. "You know, I guess it's true what they say. You can never go home again...But I guess you can shop there." Ooh, or you could just put your favorite movie QUOTE.

I Freaking Apologized Once - That's a Big Deal for Me. Take What You Can Get, Idiot.

Sunday was the first day of swim season for me. Mostly because it was 103 degrees on Sunday, but also because normally we start swimming the first week of April and I simply could not wait a second longer.

As I was lounging around afterward, with my puppies flying around the yard, I tipped my face up so it could kiss the sun. As my face and the sun were engaged in some serious snogging, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

Oh, yeah. It was my neighbor. Peeking over the fence. The new neighbor, that we love so much we can hardly stand it.

I waited until I caught his eye and then gave him my "What the hell do you want and why are you staring into my backyard?" smile. It's quite the smile. The following conversation truly did happen:

Neighbor: M'am?
Me: Holy shit. This idiot did NOT just call me m'am. I don't think m'ams use noodles and floaties in the pool. Yes, SIR?
N: Yer gettin' water in my yard.
Me: Oh, yeah. The filter needs a small replacement part. I'm sorry about that. We shut it off. It should not be leaking anymore.
N: There's water in my yard.
Me: Again, we turned it off. We'll get it fixed before we turn it back on. It was an accident.
N:It's right where my dog stands.
Me: Oh my gosh! I will be right over with paper towels and a blow dryer! We'll fix this mess! Oh, wait. It's THE GROUND. It is also the freaking DESERT. I think it will dry. As will your dog, unless it melted because it is pure barking evil.

Because seriously? At this point, what do I say? I have said everything possible regarding the situation.

I don't get being all butt hurt about this. I truly don't. Every day our neighbor waters their lawn with sprinklers and our fence/surrounding wall/ground gets wet. Not once in all these years did it occur to me to complain. We also had a neighbor with a pool and every time they back-washed the pool our yard flooded a bit. Never thought about complaining.

Maybe he is butt hurt because I left an anonymous note taped to his house about common courtesy regarding barking dogs all night long. I did it under the cover darkness and the cover of some shorts and a t-shirt, but no underwear. Which is weird, running around outside feeling naked but not actually being naked. It's the self-conscious girl's version of streaking.

Or maybe he is grumpy because in addition to my kind note, someone had called animal control and I saw that note taped to the door. So maybe he isn't feeling the love.

So neighbor? This is for you.

Dear Neighbor,
 I wanted to take a moment to have a heart-to-heart with you. To be completely honest, Jeremiah and I had high hopes that you and your wife would be semi-normal people. Sadly, our hopes were dashed with the F*CK SCOTTSDALE t-shirt that you so proudly wore the day you moved in next door. If possible, Jeremiah's hopes were dashed even more upon sight of the cases of Bud Light. While we gave up on friendship, we thought perhaps we could all be decent neighbors. No such luck. Your barking/baying dog all hours of the day and night ruined that pipe dream. And then? Then you get weird and pissy about your "lawn". And it wasn't even concern for us (Once before the previous renter had asked if everything was okay with our pool after we backwashed. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to have water go everywhere.), SIR, it was about your precious beast of a dog. Who happened to be standing on wet ground. Oh, the horrors. In addition, please know that I am keeping tabs on you. I know that there are multiple people coming and going from your house. Sometimes there are kids, sometimes no. I do know that no one ever seems to leave the house to go to a job, which is interesting because you have a newer model vehicle. I have also noted that you keep your trash in the garage, which is fascinating to me. People don't do that here. The garages are way too small. What are you trying to hide?
Sincerely,
Anonymous Neighbor

P.S. I am watching you.
P.P.S. I realize that this may not intimidate you, as you have already been caught peeking over our fence and spying on ME.
P.P.S. When I came inside on Sunday, I cursed you and the day you were born.

It's a Little Like Hell. Minus the Good Company. And No S'Mores. Because There are S'Mores in Hell, Right? Right??

Guess who has a hound dog? Our new neighbors! 

 It is SWELL. 

OC Choppers shirt? Fine. 

Cans of Miller Lite? Fine (although I am speaking solely for myself). 

A dog that stays outside ALL DAY AND NIGHT (I am not even kidding. We were up until about one on Saturday, listening to the dog.) and BAYS NONSTOP? Unforgivable.  

I dream of inviting myself into their rental house, standing there, listening to their dog and saying to them  "Ohhhhhhhhh, so you CAN hear that in here. Okay. I thought maybe you couldn't."


But I am guessing that sarcasm might be wasted on them. And sarcasm is a terrible thing to waste on idiots.

You see, Friends, I don't get how someone can listen to that and not be bothered by it. Or not be bothered or worried that their neighbors might be annoyed. Because we have two of the naughtiest, most annoying little barkers that ever did exist. And we are extremely careful to keep outdoor annoyances at a minimum. Meaning, we don't leave our dogs outside unattended. Barking nonstop. Houses here are really crammed together. Your neighbors hear everything. It's something to think about. Or maybe not. Maybe that's just us.


Jeremiah and I are wondering if this is karmic retribution. He can't think of anything too horrible that he's done. I can think of some things, but I am pretty sure that inner-city teaching is the ultimate good karma coupon. If not, I may have to rethink some things.

And by the way...

Neighbors? 

It.is.ON.



p.s. And while we're on the subject of neighbors & being a curmudgeon, I would also like to point out that our neighbors are apparently hearing impaired. I have never in my life heard people speak so loudly. The house is a single level and it isn't that large. There is NO NEED to yell. They either all have ear infections or they have all been watching the tv a bit too loudly. Let's bring it down a notch, mmmmkay? 


p.p.s. And I totally have to tell you about how an old guy swore at me at Lowe's yesterday. As in, he dropped the f-bomb. And I really didn't deserve it. Promise.

Oh, No. Not a Beer Snob At All.

We've got new neighbors.

Mary-Next-Door moved at the beginning of January and we were relishing the silence and lack of diesel vehicles next door.

Not that Mary was bad, she wasn't, not at all.

She sold me these bowls at her yard sale:

I was in my pajamas, in the dark, at her yard sale. I hadn't brushed my hair. Or my teeth. But I WANTED these bowls. They are much prettier mixing bowls than the set I inherited from a co-worker. Plus, these are easier for me to lift down from their spot. It's love, I tell you.

Anyway, so she moved out. This weekend, the new people moved in. Jeremiah and I were hoping for a couple similar to ourselves - quiet, thoughtful neighbors. Aged appropriately, like us. We were hoping for people down with listening to some music, playing some games, and just hanging out. We were hoping for some nerds like us.


We had our first "Danger, Will Robinson" moment when they rolled up in a cheap sports car tricked out with a spoiler so big it could have acted as the doorway to Narnia.

But we remained hopeful. Right up until they were hanging around with friends after moving everything out of the Uhaul. We were getting ready to head out ourselves, so as Jeremiah was unlocking and opening my door for me I was spying.

Jeremiah: What do you see?
Me: Well, I see an Orange County Choppers shirt. This causes me to shiver just a bit, as I am not a car* person. 
Jeremiah: No big deal. He's not swayed in the least.
Me: I see a guy wearing a shirt that says "F*CK Scottsdale" This gets smirks and snorts from both of us.
Jeremiah: In front of their kids? Not so cool, I guess.
Me: Um, and they are all smoking and...
Jeremiah: And what?
Me: No, I can't. You won't like it.
Jeremiah: Tell me. I can take it. He braces himself.
Me: They are drinking Miller Lite.
Jeremiah: Oh my god.
Me: Out of cans.
Jeremiah: Silence. Forget it. It would never work between us.

And we drive away.

It occurs to me. In all the years that I have known Jeremiah, I have never seen him drink a beer from a can. Not once. And when I call him a beer snob he gets all upset. I am sorry, but you gotta call a spade a spade, you know?

So I don't think our new neighbors will become our besties, but who knows. Never give up.




P.S. Let's re-examine the bowls. Because they are that beautiful. When I use them I will fondly remember the short little woman with teased bottle blonde hair who could have easily been called a cougar, who hit on Jeremiah and wore short shorts. Sigh. Those were the good old days.

* Believe it or not, I actually know that OC Choppers is about bikes. As in, motorcycles. Not because I ever watched the show, but because I did watch Miami Ink religiously while it was on and they did tats for the guys in the shop. So why did I say cars? I think I might have been using cars as an interchangeable word for "thing that moves and goes vroom and gets you from Point A to Point B". That's my only defense.

Dear Neighbor,

Dear Neighbor,
I moved out of an apartment because I did not like listening to horrible music through a connecting wall. And yet, years later, here I am.

Listening to your shitty music. No wall connecting us. In fact, three walls separating us. So loud that I CAN HEAR THE WORDS, the booming bass, everything. For HOURS. On Sunday afternoon. A day of rest.

It is such a joy to have you next door. I especially love it when I am on vacation and spend my mornings exercising, listening to my music on the ipod and your music which I can hear OVER my ipod. Or when I try to enjoy the silence with a good book and some tea and I get to listen to your crap instead. That is awesome, too.

A couple questions I have for you:
1. Do you work?
2. Do you go to school?
3. Do your mom and dad know that you are an asshat?

I'm going to go out on a limb and answer  "no" to all of these.  Because you are always there. Because you are like a horrible Visa card. Everywhere I want to be.

Sincerely,
Your Ticked-Off Neighbor

p.s. We really like your dad, so he can stay, but we'd appreciate it if you would leave. Thanks.
p.p.s. I'm not against a blaring stereo for a song or two. Honestly, sometimes you just have to listen to something loudly. But now it is getting scary and my anger bubbles inside like the time I ate potato chips and burped sour cream and onion burps all night. This? This is seriously not good.

A is for Ants or, Why I Might Be Walking With A Limp...

We had a special field day for our kiddos. It was Wednesday. And there was this ant...

Bastard found me.

He bit me.

The thing is, I know INSTANTLY when I get a bite. The ant might be small but the burning and stinging is instantly intense. It stinks knowing that for the next week or so walking will be a beast. It angers me that one little ant can bring me down.

Because I swell up. And as they are usually on my leg or foot, it makes walking slightly difficult. An inquiring and caring (yet uneducated in my health issues) person asked why I didn't just take an anti-histamine. Well, holy crap. Why didn't I think of that?

Oh.

Because I'm already on THREE daily.

While it might be slightly hard to see, I've included a picture showing the swelling. Those orange/red arrows show the areas effected. Picture an ankle, any ankle at all, in place of the lump that is currently visible. See the slight concave appearance near the top right arrow? That's where my skin normally is. You know, when it isn't all stretchy and swollen. I've even indicated the scene of the bite. I'm sparing you from a close-up which shows the actual pus-filled bump. You're welcome. 

That is why I've been icing and elevating. It helps. It's the ONLY thing that helps besides going to get a steroid injection in the butt. Which, a girl can only get so many of those before she starts looking...not like a girl anymore.

p.s. Today Jeremiah and I were floating in the pool when I hear a kid at the house behind us (yes, the trouble house) exclaim, "Hey! I think there's a pool back there!" Meaning, OUR house. Next thing I hear, "Oh, there's people in the pool." All disappointed. As if he were going to get in if we weren't already in it. I thought he was just peeking over the fence. Oh.No. He had climbed the tree and was sitting there staring at us. About four yards away. Talking like we weren't there. Staring. I know it's a kid, but what is wrong with these people?

Roads are for Sissies

As I was waiting to pull into the school parking lot today, a man in his driveway started to back into me. He didn't want to wait for anyone. But I couldn't pull any farther forward, so he had to wait.

Oh, just kidding.

He put his car in drive and drove through his driveway, his lawn, and HIS NEIGHBOR'S LAWN to get to the road where it was less congested.

Um...

Update: I just spoke with someone else at the school that witnessed the same man driving his SUV with a TRAILER ATTACHED the same way - through other people's lawns. And then, because the road becomes sort of one way, he ran through the cone barricade set up by the school so he could go the way he wanted to go.

Disturbia

So...

On Halloween , Jeremiah was shootin' the sh- I mean, breeze with our neighbors. One of which hasn't spoken to us in the entire year we've been there. Regardless of the smiles, waves, whatever...nothing.

But on Halloween she was chatty. Most witches are.

Just Kidding.

I promise.

Anyway, she asked if Jeremiah had gotten a new tattoo.

Which means, this year that she hasn't been speaking to us, she has been memorizing our features and details. He didn't see the weirdness. But then I pointed out that in order for her to recognize anything as new, she must have memorized his others. From a distance. Which is weird to me. Is she watching out the window? Is she planning a sketch for America's Most Wanted? I just find it a bit odd that she can identify something as new when she's never met him to know what was old.

Disturbed.

p.s. For those of you that don't already know, I've had some issues with my "delicate health" lately. In fact, I ended up in the hospital for a fun visit last week and was out of commission (as in, couldn't do ANYTHING) for...well, still. Except now I'm back to work. So I'm doing a bit better after a week. And everyone knows at work. So interesting. We call it Crayola Wireless. The gossip mill runs strong in schools, I tell ya'. So anyway, posts are sporadic and at times they may be a bit...sparse. I'm used to writing almost every other day, which is hard to do when you are W.A.U. (without arm use). Love you all for still checking in.

p.s. Jeremiah was still thinking that perhaps it wasn't that weird. So I asked him whether the neighbor that noticed (or any other neighbor, for that matter) had tattoos. He got the point.

Artsy Fartsy

This weekend, even though boyfriend and I are completely sick (some of us are now in the getting better stage...those of us that were the ones that brought the plague into the house in the first place - me), we have been completely productive. Call it the cool weather (98 degrees) or call it a need to be artistic, but we kicked some serious ass this weekend.

Saturday we picked up materials so we can make our own drum shade for our dining room light fixture. We also got materials so I could sew some pillows. I also found a pillow I liked at Target and picked it up for clearance cheap. One with pets can never have too many pillows.

There was also a trip to SalArmy where I scored some cool glass items - pictures to come. And Goodwill, where I scored some picture books on the cheap for my students. I'm going to be using a lot more picture books than I've ever used before.

Saturday afternoon I perfected my Midwesterner's tan and hung out in the pool while Jeremiah had a fellow musician over to play some music. The guy (Tom) plays...bass. They sounded great, even from outside. I'm not really worried about the neighbors complaining considering the going-ons of the neighborhood. I can't compete with stabby house, barking night and day house, or chain saw at five in the morning house. Those asshats (my new favorite word, borrowed from Jen Lancaster) had it coming. Anyway, boyfriend had fun.

Then today we sat around in our clean house, relaxing. Boyfriend played some music and cleaned the bathroom. I did some laundry, lesson plans, and...sewing. I sewed up a storm. Totally tried out some fun features on my sewing machine. Pictures to come.

Anyone else do anything creative this weekend?



P.S. It looks like my mom wins the AZ points. Purple sage was her guess and it looks like she might be right. One website claimed the sweet hay scent I liked so much wafting from the sage actually smelled like breast milk. I was a bit disturbed. I really don't want people to think that our backyard smells like juice squeezed from a boob (Friends, anyone?). I prefer to consider the scent as hay-like.