our neighbors

BD and I are relatively new to our neighborhood. We moved in the late fall and, thusly, did not really meet our neighbors until the weather was warmer.

Here are some observations about our current surroundings:

[1] we may live in the meth capital of Cincinnati. This has not be confirmed in the slightest, but the quality of characters who walk the main drag in the late afternoon are on something. In fact, I think it's a requirement to not wear a shirt [if you are male], push a baby stroller, pants appear optional [if you are female] and cigarettes are a must. Crosswalks are not necessary.

[2] BD and I have made significant contributions to help us "fit in." This includes ripping up tulips and daffodils and letting our flower beds become weed beds. In my case, I have managed to spray weed killer on the only living plants we had in the front of our house. Now, due to the ridiculous temperatures, we can't plant a thing for at least another month.

[3] I truly think our neighbors mean well. And, I think they've been neighbor since our little neighborhood was built in the 1950's. They spent several months observing us through the blinds, without acknowledging us in person. This all changed one day when BD met our next door neighbor Pat.

Before I explain BD's encounter with Pat, I should state that he's more approachable than I am. So, more often than not, he's the greeter. The majority of the time, he forgets to introduce his wife, but we're working on that.

Anyway, BD met Pat one day when I had a late study visit and didn't come home from work until 10:45 PM. I knew when I walked in the door that I needed ice cream. I was caught off guard when BD was still up and in a talkative mood:

[bd]: I met Cliff's wife tonight. [Cliff had introduced himself to BD earlier in the week].

[me]: Oh yeah? What's her name.

[bd]: Pat. She's like straight off the boat.

[me]: Boat from...??

[bd]: Ireland or Scotland. I think Ireland because she sent her kids to Catholic School.

***Let me pause here and mention that BD and I will go for DAYS without having such a detailed conversation. I am not sure if he could tell you if I even went to school, but he surely knows about Pat's kids and their schooling.

[me]: Isn't Scotland Catholic too?

[bd]: Maybe Church of England. I mean if you aren't Catholic, what are you? Protestant?

[me]: Yeah. [At this point, I am up to my elbows in ice cream. I walked into the door, straight to the freezer and I am generously applying the chocolate syrup I've dreamed about all day. I'm also questioning if I should limit BD's sugar intake, as he sure is talking a lot and I wasn't prepared for such conversation. He's awfully chipper. And, his presence in the kitchen means that I have to actually put my ice cream in a bowl and cover it with chocolate syrup, rather than eat it directly from the carton, as was my plan when I assumed he would be sleeping like a quiet-non-talkative baby when I got home.]

[bd]: So there was a tree like "this far" [BD estimates a small distance between his two energetic hands] from the house that I pulled up.

[me]: Who pulled it up? Pat?! When?

[bd]: [emphatically, as though he had been saying this to me for h-o-u-r-s] I PULLED THE TREE UP!

[me]: Did Pat tell you to pull it up?

[bd]: Gaaaahhhhhhd. Why do you ask me so many questions?

[me]: I'm confused, where's the tree?

[bd]: Just forget it.

[me]: No. Really. We just jumped a million stories here. Did you pull it up or did Pat tell you about a tree that was between our houses? If in fact that is where said tree is/was and then it was pulled up?

[bd]: [Storming out of the kitchen, throwing his hands up in dismay.] Why do you do this to me?!

[me]: Do what? I want to know about Pat and the tree.

And that was the end of this conversation. To this day, I am not sure where this tree was/or currently is, if Pat suggested that we pull it up, if Pat pulled it up, or if Pat had anything to do with the tree. But, hey, Pat put her kids through Catholic school.