Thursday, July 28, 2011

And they loaded up the car and moved to Beverly...

Now that we are officially moved into our new house, I have begun to worry that the neighborhood might not be as excited about us moving in as we are about moving there. I don’t know why, but lately I have repeated thoughts about The Beverly Hillbillys. And scenes from National Lampoon's Family Vacation keep running through my head. I just don't know if they are quite ready for us.

Ok, first of all Kent already got rid of my chickens when we put our house on the market. For some strange reason he felt that no one would want to buy a house that had chicken shit all over the back porch. And now he went and sold my chicken house on Craig’s List! To think that I can never again have chickens wandering in my back door to fly up on the kitchen table or to look out my back window and see Stoli, our black Pomerianian, trying to mate with a chicken (true, I swear) or to hear Kent yelling at me about it. Like I could do anything about it anyway – I’m not responsible for my dog’s poor sexual preferences. Well, that just makes me sad. See there is a picture of the custom designed chicken house I built with my own hands. Or at least with the hands of my Handy Man, Eduardo.

That right there is bad enough, but I understand. Because our new Hood has something called an HOA that has rules and stuff. And you gotta follow the rules. Anyone who knows me knows that I like to bend the rules whenever I can, but my husband is a rule follower and he has already gleefully informed me that we can’t have chickens at the new house, which I am sure my new neighbors will appreciate. Although I must say my old neighbors were always gracious and never really complained – they just called me to tell me my chicken was on their front porch and things like that.

I also wonder about how the new Block is going to adjust to the noise level? The few times I have been over there, the street has been fairly sedate and quiet. And not once did I ever hear anyone screaming in their back yard that they were going to "take a stick and poke you in the kidney and kill you ten times” which has often been heard coming from my back yard. Nor did I see any signs of property destruction such as a disassembled front door or BB gun targets on back fences or even bikes and scooters left in the middle of the street. And I know I did not see a child sitting on the roof threatening to run away if they did not get {insert something ridiculously expensive or dangerous here}.

I’m also pretty sure that none of these neighbors has ever had to get out of the shower and go in search of the boy they heard crying for help only to find a certain neighbor’s front door unlocked, a certain Mom not home, with her son locked in the downstairs bathroom which had a broken door that had gone unfixed for some six months who was stuck in one of those tiny bathroom windows - half in and half out - because he tried to crawl out said tiny bathroom window because he had stupidly shut the bathroom door that he knew was broken (it had been for six months!) when he was all by himself. For that matter, why did he need to shut the door anyway, who would have been there to see him?. But that is another story…

Somehow wherever we go, there always seems to be a bit of commotion. I sure hope that doesn’t bother my new neighbors. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t do anything about those darn kids of ours. They just keep on showing up and usually with a few friends or pets in tow. And speaking of commotion, there is the toilet papering, that long standing favorite of mini-hoodlums everywhere. I really hope none of them are nervous about things that go bump in the night, because we do seem to get a lot of hoopla going on at all hours. But I am sure they will be glad to know that at least I do what I can to save our planet. After being papered, I immediately go outside and start picking up the toilet paper and shake it out and try to save it for use later. I am never one to miss a chance to help the environment and save a few cents at the same time. It’s so easy to just gently wrap it up into little bundles and put them in a nice basket by your potty…no one will ever know and most think it is some sort of new decorating idea. Yep, I really have done that too.

The bad thing is that the new house has a roof top walk and several balconies,as well as a set of fire escape stairs coming out of the master bedroom window. All of these egress points are potential problems. I have threatened my children with slow torture and sure death if there is ever any drinking, smoking or cussing that goes on while they are on them… or nudity…or any projectiles being thrown from them. But hey, I can’t be expected to watch them 24/7. I have a life too, you know.

I haven’t gone through the neighbors garbage yet (not to imply that this is something I regularly do even though it wouldn’t be unheard of), but I suspect that their trashcans will be full of recycling, and organic vegetable scraps and wine bottles with actual corks instead of screw tops. God forbid one of them peeks in ours to see the Oreo packages, Mountain Dew bottles, Vienna sausage cans, Pizza Hut boxes and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos packages – all of which are the snacks of choice at our house.

I do think we have the right dog though– our Black Lab should fit in well with the requisite hunting dogs. But what about the 3 pound yappy Chihuahua…or the ancient miniature Poodle with the bad teeth, or the slightly mentally challenged black Pomerianian who pees on people’s legs when they come to visit? (See chicken incident mentioned above.) And, I won’t even mention the various and sundry other pets that seem to end up at our house. Lawns are nicely manicured and seem to be well kept, which is good because I like a nice yard too. I can’t wait until I put up my 4 foot metal chicken I got from the Mexican guy on the side of 2222 along with our Kips Big Boy Head.

All that to say, I really hope my new neighbors like me.

I always have a cup of sugar they can borrow, I am handy in a crisis (lot’s of experience there), I make a mean Mojito and rarely fall down drunk in the front yard.

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