My Neighbor(s), Part Deux

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Remember Bernice?

Well, after being held captive at her house to endure her stories, I kind of thought/was afraid that we were best buds. Or at least buds in the sense that you would wave when you passed each other in the neighborhood. But anytime I saw her and waved, she just ignored me. Or didn't see me...I am not quite sure. And, honestly, that was fine with me. For all I knew she had blocked from her memory that afternoon we spent together. I had wanted to do the same, but sadly was unable.

So, maybe a year or so went by when the neighborhood was blissfully quiet and removed from her incessant horn honking. Or at least, my part of the neighborhood was.

In the last year, I started to notice that one of my next door neighbors would occasionally drive down to Bernice's house and stay there for a few hours. I thought it was kind of strange because these neighbors in particular, though very nice, stick to themselves and don't really socialize with any neighbors.

Anywho, about 6 months ago, Bernice and her blasted horn honking came back. She now would honk for my next door neighbors. But unlike Katherine, these neighbors were much more fast moving, so the honking would not last as long. I could deal. I really had no choice in the matter anyways.

The thing that really bugged me the most, though, was that she would go by the neighbors and do her horn honking during my kids' nap time. I was always concerned that she would wake them up. And you don't want to mess with a mama whose kids have been rudely awakened.

Well, this past April, Bernice crossed the line. At that time, our sweet girl was a little over 2 months old. I was tired. QUITE tired. Which translated into grumpy, among other things.

I had just gotten both kids in bed and asleep for naptime when I heard Bernice's horn honking at our neighbors house. She honked. And honked. And honked. I was remembering the days of yore with her honking at Katherine's. This may have been worse. I was grumpy, tired and now had two kids to worry about staying asleep through the incessant horn honking.

I had a letter I needed to mail, so I decided to take it to the mailbox and give Bernice the stink eye about her horn honking. Mistake number one was me failing to realize that the stink eye would not work on Bernice. She has no place for, or even awareness of, subtleties in her life.

Instead of Bernice cowering at my stink eye, she started YELLING, screaming even, at me to come and assist her. Remember, I have two young children in the house...possibly sleeping, but likely not at this point.

Bernice was yelling at me to, "Get Michelle! GET MICHELLE! I NEED MICHELLE AND I CAN'T CALL HER BECAUSE MY PHONE IS NOT WORKING!! AND SHE ISN'T COMING OUTSIDE!!!" (as if i was dumb and deaf to the fact that Michelle was not responding to the honking). Bernice hadn't even bothered to pull into Michelle's driveway. She was in the street honking and screaming...and halfway hanging out of the car, waving her hands frantically for me to go to Michelle's door.

In the middle of this, Bernice seemed to realize that she recognized me and said, "Oh, hun! How is that baby of yours?" "Good," I say, "and I have a newborn as well now." This was my prime opportunity to also say, "SO STOP HONKING AND SCREAMING, YOU LOON, OR YOU WILL WAKE THEM UP AND I WILL BE SCREAMING LOUDER THAN YOU!!" That was mistake number two-missing my opportunity to tell her to simmer down.

So, somehow, Bernice made me go and knock on Michelle's door. Michelle wasn't answering. Obviously, she was hiding from Bernice. That is what I should have been doing. I started to walk back to my house (and to my kids) and Bernice said, "NO! RING THE DOORBELL! KNOCK HARDER!! I KNOW SHE IS IN THERE!!!!" Well, I knew she was in there too because I could hear people talking.

Then she starts yelling at me to "CALL MICHELLE". I didn't even know this lady's name was Michelle up until about 10 minutes prior, so I definitely didn't know her phone number.

"I don't have her number, Bernice."

"WHAT? WHY NOT?!?! THEN RING THAT DOORBELL SOME MORE!"

So, I stand there kind of trapped. If I started to walk back to my house, Bernice would scream and honk. But Michelle wasn't answering the door. And, at this point, I needed Michelle to answer the door because I didn't want to get roped into assisting Bernice with whatever her urgent request was.

FINALLY, Michelle answered the door. She said she was in the backyard with the dogs when her kids came out to get her telling her that someone was at the door. She said she heard the commotion but didn't realize it was at the front of her house. She went and attended to Bernice while I bee-lined it home and away from Bernice.

I saw Michelle the next day, she apologized for the situation and said that Bernice needed a light bulb changed at her house.

Seriously.

Seriously?!

He Melts My Heart

Do you ever have times in which your heart feels so full and happy that it is practically impossible to handle?

Our sweet 2 year old boy loves music. Since he was a baby, he has had such a love and awareness of music. Many times, we would be eating at a restaurant and he would start swaying and clapping in his high chair to the music in the background. Music that was so subtle to us that we didn't even notice it.

We have a friend, Gail, who teaches early childhood music classes. We signed our sweet boy up for those classes and he just loves them. They are clearly the highlight of his week.

Gail also has a band that does concerts and performs at events and such. We have her cds and we listen to them daily. Multiple times a day. He simply says "miz gay-wull" and reaches for the cd player. He cries if I accidentally play a non "miz gay-wull" cd. We have never been able to go to any of her events for one reason or another. But, tonight, we were finally able to go. And I was thrilled. Thrilled for our boy to hear Gail perform.

It was so utterly precious to my heart how much he enjoyed the concert. When we got home, I looked through the pictures we took and in every picture he was either dancing, laughing, running, or smiling. Or doing all those things at once. It gave me a lump in my throat.

I just adore him. And adore how he freely expresses himself and his daily joys (and sorrows).

And we can't forget this cutie, either. She, too, melts my heart. Our sweet boy has such a happy disposition (most of the time) and our little cutie girl looks like she will be taking after her brother in this regard.

She is 5 months old today! I can hardly believe it. She LOVES to laugh. And I love to laugh at her laughing.

I am so thankful to God for such a sweet husband and sweet children. I am also thankful to Him that He is my hope and refuge.

I am not even quite sure how to verbalize this, but I will try. When my kids and husband melt my heart so sweetly and quickly, it is kind of a scary feeling. It is overwhelming and overpowering, really. But it is comforting to know that our God holds us all in the palm of His hand and that nothing is out of His control. He is the Author and Perfecter of life. Enjoying my kids and husband is just a foretaste of glory divine.

Thankful,

'Licious

Dear ol' Dad

My dad is a character. That statement essentially means that I think he is strange, silly, weird and crazy, but sometimes downright hilarious. Some would say he is eccentric. I think that would be going easy on him.

The strange thing about my dad is that most people think he is super polite, reserved, quiet and gentle. They have been duped. He is a wonderful man, but not really specializing in the subdued area.

Let me preface the following dad encounter by saying I am an only child. As in, I should be the only one calling him Dad.

In the last few years, he has started answering my parents' home phone with a hearty, loud, and slightly insane, "heeelllllOOOOooo!?!". It kind of sounds like a party animal at a frat party answering the phone, not a 69 year old retiree.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that he answers on speaker phone with tv(s) blaring in the background. I think it is too much trouble for him to pick up the receiver between all the multi-room tv watching.

I called my parents' house the other day because I wanted to ask my mom a question. I always call her cell phone first to avoid any crazy phone answering antics from my dad. But on this day, I had no choice. She wasn't answering the cell phone.

It played out like this:

Phone Ringing....

Dad answering ringing phone: "heeelllllOOOOooo!?!"

Me: "Hey, Dad!"

Dear ol' Dad: "Hello????" (normal people tone and sounding QUITE confused as to who was calling)

Me: "Hey, Dad, it's me."

Dear ol' Dad: "Oh hey, I didn't know who it was!!!"

Huh?

Again, I am an only child.

Or, so I thought.

My Neighbor(s)

This could really be a 20 part series, but I will start with just this one post.

I have some, um, interesting neighbors. And who doesn't, really? And, yes, I know I probably serve for some good fodder and entertainment for them as well. But that is not the point. At least not today.

One neighbor, in particular, is extra entertaining/challenging to love. We'll just call her *Bernice.

My first awareness of Bernice's existence was a loud one. One Saturday morning a few years ago, hubs and I were still in bed asleep. I think it was around 7:30 am (obviously, this was before we had any kids). And we were awakened by the loudest, most relentless car horn. I got out of bed to see this lady in a beat up blue car pulled up parallel to our across the street neighbor's house. Our across the street neighbor, Katherine, was a sweet and elderly lady. Which essentially meant she was slow-moving. No amount of aggressive horn honking was going to make her move any faster. But Bernice seemed unconcerned and unfazed by that obvious fact. She honked for at least 10 minutes. I was a touch annoyed. Just a touch. Have I mentioned I am NOT a morning person?

Anyways, this became a regular occurrence. I got used to it like one gets used to morning sickness.

Eventually sweet Katherine moved to a retirement home and Bernice stopped her weekly honking.

A couple of weeks after our first child was born, but before Katherine moved to her retirement home, Katherine informed me of the fact that Bernice's house was broken into and several expensive items were taken. Up until this point, I didn't even know Bernice lived in our neighborhood, but Katherine told me where she lived and she said something like, "you may not have seen her before, but she comes by sometimes and gives me rides." Oh, YESSER, I have seen her. And HEARD her.

A couple of weeks later, Bernice flagged down my husband outside while he was cutting the grass and asked/demanded that he come over to her house to sit with her while she was having a workman in her house. She apparently was quite shaken by the robbery and didn't want to be in her house alone with a workman. Never mind the fact that she didn't know my hubs at all.

Hubs was uncomfortable going over to her house by himself and someone had to stay with our baby, so he came inside and asked me to go sit with her. I did.

That was the longest 2 hours of my life ever. And I will never get back my blissful ignorance of her. I long for that blissful ignorance to this day.

During that time that I sat with her at her house, she talked non-stop. She told me many colorful things which included, but is by no means limited to, the following:

-That she died on the operating room table in 1986 but God was not ready for her yet, so he sent her back.

-That she, um, designs, um, adult-entertainment rooms for "old fogies in Florida". She has one of these rooms at her house. She insisted that I see it. And, honestly and thankfully, I am too naive to even know what I saw. Praise the Lord!

-That she sold a business of hers to the mafia. She would tell me more about it, but it would endanger me.

I am not sure what Bernice's story is. I don't know if she is mentally unstable or if she is a brilliant story teller or if any of it is true.

Regardless, I stand in awe of her audaciousness, both in horn honking and story telling.

*Name changed to protect the guilty.

I Should Be Embarrassed...

...but I am so not!

I have this love for Sonic Drive-In sodas. If you know me well, this is no secret to you.

This Sonic "habit" began shortly after my now 2 year old son was born. I would go walking or running at a local trail and would be so thirsty when I was done. (Yes, I had water. But I wanted something else!)

My friend, Maranimal, has this love for Sonic ice (it's soft and small and so tasty). Really, Maranimal's mom, Emme, is the one who started this whole thing. I blame her. For everything.

Anyways, when I was on my way home from my runs at the trail, I would occassionally stop at Sonic for a soda, trying to appreciate the ice the way Maranimal and Emme did. The ice was nice but what was really nice was the freebies. I started to notice that at the bottom of some of the receipts, there was an invitation to call and do a survey. If you completed the survey, you could get a free Route 44 drink (read: XL mammoth drink). So, I started to do the survey. The rest remains somewhat of a blur.

Obviously, their ploy worked on me. I started to get the Route 44 drink even if I didn't have a receipt for a freebie (before that, I would just order a small drink).

Somewhere along the line, I started requesting vanilla syrup in my sodas. This is really the root of my codependency. My lifeline. My joy.

I'm kidding.

Except not really.

So, I went to my Sonic last week. I'm a regular there. I have a favorite carhop. I know the days he works. He recognizes me on the intercom. He knows my order. Route 44 Vanilla Diet Dr Pepper. No mint. A lot of ice, but not too much. But not too little ice, either. He knows to bring out my receipt if it has a survey for a Route 44 freebie on it, but not to worry about the receipt if there is no freebie.

Like I was saying, I went this past week. Well, I went a few times last week, but on this particular day, I ordered my usual. Or so I thought. After I placed my order, he corrected me through the intercom and said, "Don't you want vanilla in it?" And I realized that I forgot to request the vanilla!!! The most crucial part of the drink. The tie that binds. It would have been tragic to have not have vanilla in it. A game-changer, really.

And, for that, my carhop is my hero.

I should have felt shame, but I did not. I just thought it was hilarious. I called Maranimal, who greatly appreciated the story. She understands the Sonic love.

I told my husband and he just pitied me.