We'll call him Rico

The oceangypsy house sits kitty-corner from the oddest neighbors ever. For years we have been subjected to various Christmas decorations that definatly are in the running for Griswold of the Year awards. In the spring, their lawn is decorated with tulips scattered throughout the grass. There is no actual flower bed, just random tulips. Smack dab in the middle of the yard is a fifteen foot weed that they claim is a tree. Now, I may not be the sharpest pencil in the box, but I dang sure know what a tree looks like and this ain't it. Even the squirrels won't climb it!

Now, I admit that the oceangypsy house isn't always all that. There are currently weeds in the flower bed and the carcass of the former black, conversion van in the drive. (To be towed away as soon as hubby is not paying attention.) The sound of drums and guitars frequently resonate from our basement and I often put out enough trash to rival the city dump.

But.....

Nothing compares to the new live-in boyfriend that has moved in there. I was first made aware of his presence when his very hairy chest was displayed beneath his silk, Hugh Heffner like, robe on their front porch while waving the kids off to summer school. Choking back the gag reflex, I immediately ran for cover, screaming, "my eyes... my eyes." The image has permanently burned into my brain for which I may never recover.

A few days later, during my garage sale, I was again subjected to the new neighbor, we'll call him Rico Suave. Apparently, he enjoys sitting on the front stoop, in the aforementioned Hugh Heffner robe, as he stayed there for at least a half an hour. I was beginning to think that maybe I should check the registered pedophile list in my area.

Then the unthinkable happened. Something that made me long for the random tulips and the god-awful Christmas displays. Something that instantly brought down the property values of the neighborhood by at least $20,000. Something that makes the carcass of the black van look like a Maserati. Rico Suave moved in, by tow truck mind you, a conversion van decked out in complete camo. That's right one, big camouflage van. It screams home-grown-terrorist. Oh, but that's not the kicker. The best part is the professional decal across the front that says, "A-Team" above the windshield. The horn, is akin to the sound of an elephant followed by a la-cooka-rocha rhythum.

I kid you not! I couldn't make this up if I tried! It's so over the top I'm not worried about pedophilia anymore, it calls way to much attention to itself. My only hope is that Rico won't stay long, that he will be a passing fancy. Although, the appeal of such a man is way beyond me.

Relaxing Summer?

Every year around the holidays I wonder where all the time went. The days all run into one another and I can barely get through the endless, daily "to do" lists. Lately, I've been feeling that way about summer too. We have celebrated graduation after graduation. We have hosted a garage sale and hop-skip-and jumped to the lake for a few days. Now, fireworks season is upon us, then camp, camp again, a quick trip to Chicago and maybe a squeezed in baseball game. At some point I'll be working in Eclipse and Toy Story 3, if I'm lucky. And all the while, I need to be working on my tan! I need some pool time with a new book that takes my brain off reality for a while.
The weed patch, I mean future vegetable garden, is grossly overgrown with looming bits of poison ivy taunting me around the fence line. If I don't address it soon I'm positive that my neighbors are going to turn me in to the over-zealous code enforcement officer in town. An all out war against the family of mice that decided to move in has ensued and I am proud to announce that this week the casualty count is four!
Every day the chore list is endless, today I actually cleaned out the fridge and found all the missing Tupperware. Nothing like the looming possibility of food poisoning to force a little grocery shopping. I actually found an old yogurt shoved in the back that expired last March. Thankfully, the children mostly just stare with blank looks on their faces declaring, "there's nothing to eat!" I'm not sure I'll ever answer, "find something" any more... too dangerous.
Let's see, tomorrow is a wedding that I still need a gift for. And Sunday is Father's Day for which I still need to shop. Guess those cards will be a little late. Tried to shop 1-800 flowers for Father's Day, and found a beer stein made of carnations, but since my hubby is a recovering alcoholic, I decided that it probably wasn't the best flower arrangement to send.
I'm sure you are all just as busy as I am, but it's not too late to hope for a few bits of relaxation this summer is it?