You could die from that you know....

I got a great chuckle yesterday.

 My neighbor, a 76 year old (I know  her age because she yelled it at her youngest son saying, "I'm 76 years old Danny, don't you think I know about gardening?!" That son is now in jail for attacking his family with a Samurai sword....no you can't make this stuff up).

This neighbor could quite possibly be the worlds best undercover agent. Chain smoking on the front porch, she  has a fabulous view of our very interesting neighborhood. Quite often I have wondered what it would feel like to work in my own  front yard without my every move being supervised by her watchful eyes. She keeps a pretty tight lip about what she sees. I wonder what she knows that she doesn't share. The trailer living, slightly neurotic lady who lives in the RV behind her house, sporting 7 junk cars and a couple  spare RVs was leaving hate mail for another neighbor who's cat was apparently fouling up her garage. Soon after hearing there was a problem between them the other neighbor posted pictures on her mailbox of a "missing cat."....hmmmmm....one guess as to what happened to the cat.

She is a great neighbor to have around though, we know that whenever we leave town, we have no need of a house sitter to take care of things. They seem to be great people (with the exception of the Samurai toting son and the other who talks to himself  while he works). We readily swap tools, plants and gardening advice.

She made a trip across the street yesterday while the girls and I were mowing the yard. Well, I was mowing, Libby running rampant, carefully testing the boundaries and mom's patience, and Vesper was happily playing in her walker, with her feet barely skimming the ground. My neighbor (who's name I cannot remember and it's been so long I'm embarrassed to ask again...I've been hoping that a stray piece of her mail would end up in our mailbox). While we were chatting I made the comment that we had just gotten chickens, seeing as how I was spending $50 a month on eggs.

She raised her eyebrows at the comment, paused to puff, puff on her cigarette and cough a very chesty, long  cough said, "Wow, you know eggs aren't very good for you."

Sheesh....another blog?

With food and gas prices, our utility bills going up, and a full blown recession still on there is great need for the one thing essential to human survival…..a fabulous sense of humor.

As I write, my 3 month old cannot seem to stay asleep for more than 20 minutes….compounding her need for sleep today. Sometimes I wonder if a little howling from nearby isn’t necessary to help her sleep more deeply. Seeing as  how I’ve tried all else – this would be the logical last option – short of flying in a grandmother or two to rock her whilst mother runs naked through the back pasture to recover her sanity.

With so many blogs out there, many which ramble on and on about this issue or that, I wonder why I feel the need to start this one.  Even if it is never read (although I’m pretty sure my mother will read it, so we’ll have one follower at least.) it is in me to document life. I’ve done so ever since my mummy handed me my first journal at 13 years old. It was the most beautiful book I’d ever seen. Pressed herbs and flowers into the paper, opening up to beautiful, lined, blank pages.  I still get that breathless excitement when I buy a new journal (which of course must be cool looking, mom set the standard high…you cannot write cool things in an un-cool book.)

So here we are, my wonderful hubby Chris, Liberty our 2 year old (who is every bit her name) and Vesper our newest baby girl, embarking on a fabulous journey (well, we hope it is fabulous).  We know stories cannot be told forward, but must be lived first.  We want to make our lives memorable and very un-normal.  Although good stories are rarely fun to live while you are in them, we’re game for the journey.