We live in a pretty tight community. And by tight I mean the buildings are so close you can fart and hear neighbors laugh three doors down. Or maybe that’s just me and my own farts, I don’t know, but I swear I know when the people next door have sex and when their dog has the runs and when the cop behind us gets lucky one warm night when the windows are open.
Not tight as in, “I know my neighbors and they are the awesome.”
Not tight as in, “I fucking LOVE OUR HOUSE.”
More like “These jeans push my undies up too far remind me why I don’t just wear thongs again?” tight.
(How’s that visual? You’re welcome.)
So when we were walking along in the feet of snow last year and met a nice gal and her husband, I was more than happy to invite them in for a glass of wine.
Three months later I kinda forgot about that glass of wine and the classy wieners I served. But the phone rang Saturday and my very nice neighbor asked if my husband and I would like to go on a date.
I think we would!
And that is how it came about that my husband and I pretended we were 25 year olds with better bodies and young love and all the time in the world (or at least three hours) to ride on the Burk Gillman and sample some amazing beer.
I can’t tell you what this means to me. To have someone ASK to take my children. WANT to spend time with my children. LOVE to read to my children.
I’m blown away.
With family far away, we rely too heavily on friends in town. Maybe, and I’m just guessing here, they don’t want us to ask EVERY MOTHER EFFING WEEK if they want to take our kids wink wink for just a little bit couldya wink wink? I’ve called babysitters. I’ve asked the grandparents. I’ve checked with professional nannies. It appears I have a very active daughter and pretty much nobody in the world wants to ... ... ... enjoy quality time with her.
They tell me she’s hard.
Yathink? It’s why I’m begging for a break.
But, begging and throwing myself at people’s feet with oil and fragrance and weed aside, having someone ask to take my kids seemed pretty amazing. Until we were actually ON the date, far far away and it hit me. “THEY ARE STEALING OUR CHILDREN AS WE RIDE!” There’s only one motive for this kind of kindness: Baby Stealers. They are so totally stealing our children. “They live up the street” Mr. Flinger reminds me. “Well, they did until this morning” I snap back “until they decided to foreclose and asked for our children to accompany them to Canada.”
How can you argue with that?
Answer: Don’t. Trust me.
After Mr. Flinger made the aforementioned error of arguing, and after a round of samplers, I pretty much relaxed in to the date and we enjoyed the two point three hours we had left.
The children were here, upon arrival, asleep in their beds. Our new favorite people were sitting on the couch. We invited them for margaritas, homemade all Flinger Style (read: Five parts Marga and One Part Rita, if Marga is Tequila) and laughed and enjoyed having.. well? Neighbors.
I guess the community thing isn’t so bad. In these times of tough economy and of hardships and bad news, it’s so wonderful to have someone do something so small, but so incredibly large. Significantly large. Incredible in fact.
I can’t wait to pay it forward. To live out City Mama’s advice to quite literally, love thy neighbor.
Amen. Amen. A-fucking-men.
12 guests here now.
I’m a firm believer that what goes around comes around; that what you give out comes out to you; that you should treat others as you would like to be treated, etc.
In that last photo, you two look like 25 year olds.
By Maria on 2009 04 06
We don’t really know any of our neighbors, and we’ve lived in the neighborhood almost 4 years. Sometimes I wish we were friendlier.
By dancing_lemur on 2009 04 06
I’m kinda jealous of your new neighbors. Think they might want to move next to us? P.S. I love marga.
By Stefania/CityMama on 2009 04 06
What a great day out! Definitely need to keep in touch with those neighbors.
By TexasRed on 2009 04 06
Awww, wonderful. :D
By Al_Pal on 2009 04 06