Since moving, I have been afflicted with friendly neighbors, cute baby goats and piglets, and organic fresh eggs. This whole pacific northwest, small town thing has gone overboard. If I am not accosted with happy smiling people out walking their dog, then it is the kids outside playing basketball in the street in their ultra safe neighborhood. It is sickening, people. I can't even get to the co-op organic farm behind our house to pet the newest goats, without some lawn mowing neighbor waving hello. Or another dog walker greeting me and admiring our australian shepherd. How am I supposed to live like this?
I am living in Mr. Roger's neighborhood.
The only salvation I have is my teenage sons. They keep me sane.
Last night they sent a prevention to my being overly happy. Turning back the bed covers, ready to read 'The Last Enchantments by Charles Finch' (loving it!) there was a loud, vibrant, third degree EEEEEHHHHHH!!! scream coming from me.
My eldest had hidden a plastic cockroach in my bed. My worst fear, and best at bringing out my loudest exclamations.
Now you might be thinking this was cruel of him. Actually, the blame goes with both of those boys. His brother knew about it and did nothing to warn me. That makes him an accomplice in the eyes of the law, and his mother. Back to the story: the boy was pitching forth his best effort to keep my real world sense of humor alive. If that is not love, then I don't know what is.
The list of shameful enjoyments in this area extends to our backyard. We have two fir trees with swallows, red robins, ravens, sparrows, doves, and who knows what other kind of nasty cute creature is flying around out there. All they do is chirp, sing, and look arrestingly gorgeous. How am I supposed to work here? All I want to do is bird watch in my own backyard.
Again, the eldest has come to the rescue. He hung up a bird feeder right outside the dining room window. What the bigger birds don't want, they spill over the sides, onto the ground. The little birds are in a blissful state as they eat the ground seed.
It is in the perfect location, great for us to watch the eating frenzy, and right outside the garage door. The garage door that our excellent hunter cat can also watch the tiny prey. She will soon be putting an end to those pesky flyers.
Oh, I'm just kidding. Don't get all weird on me. First time that cat kills a bird, she will be wearing a collar with a bell. I'm not that bad.
Anyway, I have to get going. The movable chicken pen from the farm has just been moved to directly behind our fence. I feel the need to watch some hens.
cluck, cluck, cluck!