Another One Bites The Dust

We've had our share of mail woes since we moved into this house about four and a half years ago.

Let's recap, shall we?

Mailbox #1: Newman broke the door so it would barely stay closed. Then it was run over by a three-year-old. New post and mailbox. The pretty, expensive kind that matched all the others on our street.

Mailbox #2: About a week after the shiny new post and mailbox was installed, the flag was broken off by an unknown assailant. And then not too long after the flag went down (literally), Newman proceeded to break the door completely off. New mailbox.

Mailbox #3: This time, I bought the cheapest mailbox I could find at Lowe's and mounted it on our pretty, expensive post.

And since the cheap-o mailbox went up, things have been pretty ok. I mean, besides not getting our mail/getting other people's mail. Newman even recently made a ginormous stride in the right direction by bringing a package to the door. I know, right?

Back to our story...

As is our custom, when C got up from his nap on Saturday, he and I went outside to get the mail. And I immediately knew we didn't get any mail that day.

Because this is what I saw.

Now, since Orange Truck People moved long ago, I'm pretty certain it wasn't a three-year-old this time.

Unfortunately, whoever hit our mailbox this time wasn't responsible (or sober) enough to own up to it.

We suspect it was one of Party People's usually not-so-sober partying friends, but there's really no way to prove it, and we were even told such by the police department when I called to see if it would do any good to file a report.

This was no love tap, either. When OTK #2 rolled the truck down the hill and hit our mailbox, it broke. But it wasn't the victim of a violent collision. This poor mailbox took quite a blow. We're talking a full-on hit and run.

Now, since this will be our third post and fourth mailbox in the four and a half years we've lived in this house, I was really tempted to do it up nicely. You know, something made from concrete or possibly surrounded by giant boulders or land mines.

Instead, I purchased a $30 mailbox kit at Wal-Mart, which usually has everything a person could ever want. But the problem is that you have to actually dig a hole and put concrete in it.

That's no good - for many reasons, but the main one being that when our house was constructed, the guys who poured the curb and sidewalk were a little sloppy with the concrete and there is only a thin layer of dirt and grass covering large amounts of cement in the general mailbox area.

So since Husband's not the "handy" type and I'm not the "hard labor" type, we decided to find another alternative.

Since we'd been without mail for several days, we decided enough was enough. Last night C, Husband and I made a trip to Lowe's. And bless the poor guys who work the hardware section, we wore them out. They helped us find a post, mailbox, and all the little hardware stuff we needed to install everything.

We came away with quite possibly the ugliest mailbox setup known to man. But at this point, I don't really care.

Today, Husband and his friend G (who is the handy type) borrowed some tools and began the installation process.

While they were out working on the post, Newman was making his rounds. He actually handed the mail to Husband. You don't even know.

They told Newman our mailbox had been hit yet again and we'd have the new one up by tomorrow. Newman's comment: "There'll be more. Get used to it."

Great. Just what I needed to hear.

Neighborhood Update

It's been a while since I last updated you on the happenings in our neighborhood. In truth, it's because things have been pretty quiet. But here's a quick rundown.

As you know, Non-English Speaking Neighbor moved out, leaving their property to be overtaken by the jungle that was their yard. The city came and mowed a few times, knocking the grass back to a manageable height. Their house is still vacant. There is a fluorescent sign on the window, stating the house was "winterized" by the city, meaning they shut off the water and drained the hot water heater. I think there have been three different realtor signs in the yard over the past several months. I must say, it's been very nice not having to worry about the kids climbing over the fence, throwing rocks and trash at the dog, dealing with their loud parties and general mayhem. I'm not sure I really want anyone to move in back there. That's why today, I was dismayed to find out the house is under contract, and saw signs of life over there. I hope they're good neighbors.

Orange Truck Guy and family moved out. I kind of miss seeing OT Kids playing outside, but take comfort in the fact that there's no giant, noisy, orange truck constantly parked in front of my house. Their house was vacant for a while, then the Party People moved in. They had their first party the night they moved in. The beer bottles that migrate over into our yard after a party get kicked back over into their yard...I'm not quite sure how that happens. Amazingly, they seem to be quiet partiers. At least they haven't been noisy enough for us to feel the need to call the cops on them yet. One note of interest, however. They have an orange car. What are the chances?

Razorback Guy left us too. He's moved closer to where he works, taking his fence-running puppy dog with him. Argus misses Dixie. I miss her too, because she used to exercise Argus by getting him to run up and down the fence while she sat at one end and waited for him to run to the other end and come back. It's pretty quiet over there now. And Argus is pretty bored.


We do have a little excitement going on in the neighborhood. Some new folks moved into the house behind OT Guy's (now Party People's) house, next to NESN's house. They have kids. And a trampoline. I'm sure you can guess how Argus feels about the situation. Our yards aren't very big, and I can guarantee that trampoline takes up probably 80% of their available backyard. The kids are out on the trampoline all the time, and they love playing with a ball while they're jumping. And you know what that means. Tiny yard + trampoline + ball = ball going into neighbor's yard. A lot. I've witnessed the kids climbing over into Party People's yard multiple times in order to retrieve their runaway toy. After all, they only have about 6 inches between the trampoline and the fence, so it can't be difficult. The first time they hop the fence into my yard, they are in for a little surprise in the form of an unhappy me or an unhappy dog. I'm not sure they'll like either. It's just that these kids are Middle School age, and they spend way too much time on the trampoline for their own good. Was that still cool when we were in 7th grade? Seriously. Go play some video games or something.

Our mail is still getting wet in the broken mailbox. Newman doesn't seem to mind shoving the mail into the back of the box in an effort to keep it in there. I can never mail anything out since the flag was broken just after we put up the blasted mailbox, and Newman doesn't pay enough attention to realize the envelope not addressed to me with a fresh stamp on it needs to be sent out. I have purchased a new mailbox, but it is sitting in the laundry room waiting to be installed. It's hard to get motivated to get out there and mess with it when I'm afraid as soon as I do something will happen to it. And this time, I bought a $12 mailbox. Obviously the expensive ones break fairly easily. So if I have to keep replacing them, I'm just going to go the cheap route.

That's really about it. I know you were hoping for more good stories about my crazy neighbors. Winter just seems to keep them inside, I suppose. I'm sure there will be more to report as the weather gets warmer, and hey, maybe I'll even put up the new mailbox.

Neighbor Update

It's been a while since I updated everyone on the comings and goings of the neighborhood. Shall we?

Razorback Fan is still with us. He tried to sell his house for months, and being just about the only house for sale in the entire neighborhood, had very little luck. So he gave up, got out of the contract he had on his new house and has stayed where he is. Meanwhile, there are now three other houses on our street, and about 10 total in our neighborhood for sale. Bad timing, Razorback Fan...perhaps some of the team's bad timing has rubbed off on you.

Orange Truck Guy and Girl and OTKids are still around too. They play outside quite a bit, much to Argus' dismay. It's fun to see the kids outside with sidewalk chalk when we come home in the afternoons, or chasing each other up and down the driveway on her pink bike with training wheels and his little red tricycle. Of course, their outdoorsyness becomes much to our dismay as well when they decide to use our front yard for their field of play, whether it be football, chase, or soccer. They don't bother anything, but it really drives Husband batty for them to be all up in our front yard and driveway without permission. Kinda bugs me too, but short of going out and fussing at them, I'm not quite sure what to do. When they're in the front yard, we do allow Argus to bark at them all he wants. Not quite the action we would prefer, but annoying, none the less.

Non English Speaking Neighbors...where to begin? That's what you really want to hear about, isn't it? I'll try to remember everything that's gone on since my last update, but I'm sure I'll leave something out. They've mainly been up to their normal, completely annoying habits. You know, living outside, never closing their back door or windows (so that we can revel in the joy of their everyday lives), letting their kids do whatever they want. Including, but not limited to, poking sticks and long strands of grass thru the fence at the dogs, and throwing rocks at and over the fence at the dogs while screaming "Dog! Dog!" in their native language. Oh, and the trash. Apparently they've filled their own yard with trash to the point that it's overflowing, because we've had quite a bit of it end up in our yard lately. And some toys too - at least I suspect the toys belong to them. No way to know for sure, because they won't ask for them back. But OTKids usually come over within 3.7 seconds to get their toys back when they come over the fence, so I'm guessing these others belong to NESN.

I've caught them in the act a few times lately - actually in the process of banging on the fence to get the dogs to come over, yelling at them, then poking something at them or throwing rocks at them. Of course, being the kind, English-speaking person that I am, I yelled at them in a language they are completely oblivious to. They just stared at me through the cracks in the fence like I had 3 heads or something. One day, I noticed the older kid outside with them - the one that speaks English and loves to climb fences and play outside naked...anyway, I stood on the gas meter (sorry, gas company), got his attention, and told him I didn't appreciate the little ones throwing stuff into my yard, and would he please ask them to stop. He understood me - at least he said he did, and then said something to the little kids. It was probably something like, "She likes it - throw more rocks."

But all of a sudden in the past couple of weeks, they got very quiet. At first, we just counted our blessings that the dogs could be outside without rocks and refuse raining down on them. Then, we held our breath, waiting for the shower of trash to begin again. Then, I finally decided that they'd started playing out in the front yard with the other neighborhood kids on their street. Or that maybe somebody got a fat clue and put a stop to the rock tossing contests. Wrong, all wrong.

I found out this past weekend from a little round-ish man with white hair carrying a clipboard, camera, and measuring tape that their house is in the process of being repossessed. He was there checking the place out on behalf of the mortgage company. That news comes with mixed feelings. First, elation, because the NESNs are gone, and I won't have to worry about them throwing their half-crushed Coke cans and millions of gray rocks into my yard anymore. Then fear, because who knows who the mortgage company will sell the house to? Hopefully they'll at least speak English so that if they decide to live in their back yard, leave their windows and doors open for the world to hear their life, keep livestock, have annoyingly loud parties late into the night, allow their children to play naked in the yard, train for the shot-put with tons of gray rocks, learn their aiming skills by poking things through the fence, and are just generally annoying, I can at least talk to them about it.

Naked or Nekkid?

I debated on whether or not to even make this post. And obviously decided to just put it out there and just see what happens. So here goes.

I’ve always heard it said that “naked” is when you don’t have clothes on, and “nekkid” is when you don’t have clothes on and you’re doing something that maybe you shouldn’t. I think I saw something the other day that could qualify as “nekkid.”

It was a Saturday. Husband and I had walked the dogs a good two miles or so to burn off some of their energy. We’d made our way home and were spending some time being lazy. Something caught Argus’ attention in the backyard, and the barking commenced. Husband peeked through the blinds to see what was going on.

Now, I know that most of you know this. But a “privacy fence” isn’t exactly “private.” No matter how new/old the fence is, there are small cracks between the boards, and especially from far away, you can see through the fence. Not in detail, mind you, but you can tell what’s going on.

So peeking thru the blinds, Husband says, “It’s the neighbor kid. He’s playing in the water.” (Meaning Non-English Speaking Neighbor’s kid.) “Looks like he’s putting water in one of those drinking fountain jugs and pouring it on himself.” Wow. Entertainment at its finest. And then, with a little trepidation in his voice, I heard, “And I think he’s naked.”

“What? Naked? In the back yard? Right now?” I didn’t even want to get up and look. A chicken I have to see. A naked kid I do not. Especially one that's old enough to know better. So we spent the next few minutes wondering if we should call someone…if it was legal…if we would get in trouble somehow for knowing there was a naked kid in his backyard. And then we thought of the other neighbors…what about Orange Truck kids? Wow…I’m pretty sure OTGuy and OTGirl would NOT be happy if OTK#1 (who happens to be female) were to point out what was going on in the neighbor’s yard. And NESN’s new next-door neighbors have small kids too…I can just imagine that conversation. New to the neighborhood, just getting to know people, and finding out the neighbor’s kid plays naked in the yard. Wow.

We finally got Argus in the house and made him stay inside for a while. But when nature calls…you have to let him back out. So about an hour later, we had no choice but to let him back outside. After he’d done his business and commenced his barking again, I had to go outside and physically drag the dog back inside. And NESN’s kid was still outside, naked as a jaybird, playing in the water. And not only was he playing in the water, he was playing on a slip-n-slide type contraption. I didn’t actually see anything, you people with dirty minds. But it was while I was out there that he had what I’m assuming is an argument with the lady I call “Granny.” She was, from the sound of her voice, telling him to do something, and he was very loudly telling her he wasn’t going to do it. Now, I can’t say that for sure because they don’t speak English, but I’m pretty sure that’s what was going on.

So let’s analyze this. 10-ish year old kid (who was definitely old enough to know better), playing in the yard, in the water, with no clothes on, for a stinking long time. And arguing with Granny.

Yep, that was most definitely “nekkid.”

A Boy's First Felony

There's something special about the day a boy commits his first felony offense. Especially when he's three. It happened about a week ago here on our quiet little street. Well, quiet except when Non-English Speaking Neighbors play their loud, obnoxious music and three-year-olds commit felonies. He didn't mean to. It wasn't on purpose. But it still happened.

With the recent wet weather, Orange Truck Kids have been playing out in their driveway and front yard more so as not to sink into the miry swamp that is their back yard (ok, so it's not a swamp - just soggy and wet - just like ours). We've seen a lot of the pink bike that obviously belongs to OTK #1 and the little red tricicle that OTK #2 seems to enjoy pushing, but not riding. But on this day, OTK #2 wasn't weilding his little red trike. No, it was a Big Orange Truck.

It was a Friday. I was at work. Husband was at home, on his day off. He was at his favorite "day off" spot, basking in the glow of his monitor, when through a crack in the blinds something caught his eye. It was a large, orange vehicle demolishing our mailbox and rolling across the yard/driveway. The truck stopped at Razorback Fan's house and he saw Orange Truck Guy running across the yard. Of course, curiosity got the best of him (and we'd just lost our mailbox) so he went out to see what was going on.

It seems that OTK #2 was hanging out in the giant orange beast, which happens to be a 70's model Ford, while OTGuy was lifting weights in the garage. Apparently this is a regular occurrence for them, so no big deal. But OTK #2 bumped the wrong gadget and slid the truck into neutral. And if you know anything about the region in which we live, there is no such thing as flat terrain. There's a slight downward slope on our street, and the truck began to roll. It rolled two houses down the street before hitting enough of a curb to stop...but not before taking out our mailbox. Thankfully, no one was hurt but I think that OTK #2 was scared out of his mind. He's three - who could blame him?

OT Guy and Girl were very apologetic...they're really nice people. Not the type that purposefully raise their children to be felons. They offered to pay for a new mailbox and even tried to help Husband get it installed. The installation is another story...it took me, Husband, OTGuy, HLB, and Dad to get that task accomplished. But we'll leave that for another time. Let's just hope that our lovely mailman approves of the new receptacle. I don't think I could take any more mail drama.