Welcome to the Neighborhood

It seems every spring (I use that term loosely considering I woke to snow in mid-April) we have some new folks move to the neighborhood.  This Spring is no different. Lawn boy and waitress/green jeep lady moved out after a few short years which is sad because I liked them.  Apparently she is quite bright and got into a great school.  I have no idea what her major is but regardless -- good for her!  They rented to someone they knew (or so I was told) so this weekend the Uhaul truck came and went several times.  I am hoping they move back someday because lawn boy made some damned fine smoked pork at the block party and I am thinking we need to make the block party and annual event.

More importantly, the big house on the corner which has been vacant since the hoarder Dave was removed over a year ago.  Dave, who liked to take anything I put on the side of the road, once told me he was a musical conductor then a psychology instructor, then an IT professional so you can imagine the shoes the newbies have to fill...I feel pretty confident saying they will not disappoint!  The first weekend included the following fun phrases Don't worry, I have 911 on speed dial;  I don't ask you about your baby's momma; and my favorite So I'm not worth a blunt?  Who is gonna have a great time on the T-town porch this year?  That's right -- me!

New Year's Resolution

So I made myself a little resolution of sorts to start writing again -- one of those being this blog.   I am not huge on resolutions in general as I usually forget about them within a week, but I am trying to disconnect myself a bit from the job and this is one of the things I gave up when I moved.  Maybe this summer will allow for more porch time and thus more crazy T-town.  (This is my secret wish.)

Speaking of the hood....Since my last post, the neighborhood has changed a bit.  Darlin' Nikki has returned (again).  First it was a few days here and there and then she was just back.  We lost two members of the hood -- the old stripper down the street and Pal's mom on the corner.  We had a rocking block party where we got to meet more of the neighborhood and I was reminded how much I love this place.  Plus the neighbor made me both venison and perch.  The crazy guy and his mom still fight in the street and yet both are still alive and out of jail.   This is the way it goes and this is the way I like it.

Most recently, the universe decided to to dump a shit ton of snow on us followed by temperatures bottoming out at -17 before the windchill, and now rain.  I am not a fan of said universe right now.

Shocking as it may be, I did actually heed the warnings of the weathermen and women before the snow hit.  I am not really a planner in my personal life but did manage to get to the Andersons for some supplies -- a few meals, dog food, wine, and a cream puff.  This is actually quite an improvement from the last "blizzard" where I ventured out in a Bretta during the storm and put the milk back so I could buy cigarettes.  I am going to give Eric credit for this "growth."
Anyway, at least there was food in the house when the snow started Sunday so we could calmly watch as the greater Toledo area shut down.

Toledo declared it was going to go to a level 3 snow emergency several hours before it happened predicting we'd stay there until noon Monday.  One by one schools shut down for Monday, the colleges and universities, then businesses, and then pretty much everything but hospitals, police stations, firehouses, and snow removal.  Somewhere in there even Owens closed (happy dance).

From the porch doors I was able to watch how the neighborhood reacted to the city shut down.  they were far from sad.  I think the party it started out as shoveling, but it quickly turned.  By the end, there'd been a snowball fight, snow angels, and a DJ.  Now that everything is melting I wonder if we'll see a pool party in the street later this week.  I am hoping it isn't centered in my basement.

The Return of Stupid

A few weeks ago we noticed that Darling Nikki's car hadn't been in the driveway for a few days.  Being the concerned person I am I stalked Facebook.  Boy 1 doesn't put much up or his posts are set to private (smart boy).  Darling Nikki however, she is an open book.  In the mess of posts about how much she hates people who come to her job and her med soc class (ouch!) there were pictures of her new apartment.   Well, there goes the nice yard and quiet weekends.

The first party seemed to be last weekend and it wasn't too bad -- lots of thumpy-thump music but no naked ladies, drunk morons or fights.   I am not sure how long it lasted because I go to bed by eleven, but the cars were all gone when the dogs went out at five and there were no obvious signs of destruction.  Maybe the boys have grown up?  Unfortunately that was not the case.  When I woke last night at 3 am to get a drink of water I was met with the familiar sound of drunken yelling.  I put my glasses on and made out a boy on the porch.  Who he was yelling at I have no idea as he appeared to be alone.  Then the pounding started.  It was loud enough to wake Eric.  I can only assume the dumb ass locked himself out and everyone else passed out.  I guess the crazy is back.  Should be an entertaining summer.

I kinda miss Darling Nikki...

OSU vs UM in T Town

So this is a "border battle" town so much excitement ensued on my block over the weekend. Border Battle is something of a mystery to me since most of the folks who live here did not attend either institution and there are plenty of teams in the states of Ohio and Michigan. I personally did not watch the game nor did I concern myself with the result. I learned the outcome of "the battle" on Facebook where people posted their excitement or disappointment.

But again, in the hood, there was much excitement surrounding this game. It appeared there were more people in scarlet in gray than maize and blue but I'm not sure that meant much. Two houses in particular were locked in their own battle. Unfortunately, my house is positioned between theirs. Every time there was a score or a play there was yelling from door to door. By half time, the yells were unintelligible because too much beer had flowed. At the game end there was much bragging and some hand shaking and of course more drinking. I'm not exactly sure how the next part went down but after much hooping and hollering, the U of M fan hopped into the Power Wheels of the OSU fan's child and began to drive up and down the road (beer in hand) yelling happy gloats to all who would listen. Up and down and up and down (including a near miss with a real car). That is how we roll (pun intended).

Parenting Fail -- F-Bomb

You know the kids in the neighborhood are in trouble when the following words are yelled so loudly that one can hear them from a half a block away:

"That's what you get for opening the fucking front door!" and nothing but screeching crying -- not the fake kid kind but the true gasping for breath crying that only comes from when you really screwed up or you hurt yourself. In this case I am inclined to believe it may have been both. I can't see the front door from here but one can only image what horror would await a small child opening one -- a fall, a crash, a bruised knee and a caring mother swearing at you because it is obviously your own damned fault.

Pimp My Go-Cart

There are a few things that never cease to amaze me here on the Ttown porch. 1. The massive amount of traffic my street sees regardless of the fact it isn't a cross street to anything. 2. The variety of people in my neighborhood -- blacks, whites, latinos, young, old, rednecks, pimps, and crazies. The following is a perfect illustration of the diversity:

We hear the familiar lawn-moweresque roar of the home-made go-cart. Sure enough, it comes tearing down Balkin turning haphazardly onto Westland and then off and around the corner. On the contraption for the first lap is a 40 something year old man with a mullet, trucker hat, and open can of Budweiser. He makes several laps before giving the reigns to his eight year old child. Now you may think that allowing an eight-year-old to take a homemade go-cart down a city street might suggest a disregard for the child's safety but rest assured, dad is perched on the back still holding his beer. As the kid zooms around the corner, he doesn't even spill a drop. The Balkin 500 lasts about a half an hour. I am pretty sure the tank only holds 30 minutes of gas.

Shortly after the end of the race a gentleman pulls up in front of a house down the way. It's a 1980s Rivera all shiny and chromed. The owner jumps out to welcome the many accolades being bestowed on his fine automobile. The praise is so loud it raises the low-rider, hydraulic -master himself. He strolls past his wife who has been toiling in the lawn most of the day and rounds the Rivera, taking it all in and granting bits of wisdom about cars that get the babes. After several minutes of "car talk" the owner gets in his ride and leaves. The hoopty owner returns to his home (while his wife tirelessly works in the yard) assured that his ride is still the flyest, and the passersby go back to whatever they were doing.

Yep, these are the people in my neighborhood.

The Return of Darling Nikki

When boy 1 originally moved in three years ago, there was a girl 1. After a few months there was a truck in the drive and she was taking her dinette set to some other location. We were privy to one side of a few heated phone conversations and through the power of Facebook, we ascertained that she had flown South for bigger and brighter things. If I remember correctly girl 1 had some sort of masters in healthcare, but to be honest there are a lot of similar looking ladies on boy 1's page and my sleuthing skills have declined since moving away from my friend Gerri.

Last week I realized boy 1 had been missing for several days. I was about to post a note on his possible demise but just as I considered it, a truck and Uhaul appeared in the drive followed closely by a Honda with out-of-state plates. Out pops none other than boy and girl 1 -- reunited! Now I admit I did not see that one coming.

The high degree of education would beg the question why reconcile? Boy 1 is nice and easy on the eyes but I am guessing there were a lot of cuties in the South too. Here are some of the opinions on the matter.

My boss theorized that maybe she had been with some highly educated person who treated her like shit and therefore sweet, dull and comfortable would be a welcome change.

My mom (of all people) was a bit more cynical. Her idea was that a roof over your head and a food on the table could be the reason. I reminded my mother this sounded a lot like prostitution but it didn't seem to shake her view.

Overall we are happy about the reconciliation for a few reasons. 1. There will probably be fewer summer parties with random girls attempting to gain entrance by flashing the doorman. 2. The yard work has improved already. 3. Boy 1 really is sorta sweet and I think he missed her.