I could use help with a few things for the block party...
I have 1 table. Does anyone else have one that they could bring out for food?
I know Tara is bringing a sprinkler of sorts. Cicely is bringing out a water table. Does anyone else have water tables or small pools that we can fill for the kids? I have water balloons that we will have ready.
Bridgett, are you doing a craft with the older kids?
We'll bring out a big trash can for trash. Would anyone be willing to take care of recycling?
I need someone (perhaps 2 people) to use their car to block off the street at the top of the block @6pm. Tara, could you use you car to partially block off the street at Grand?
Any other suggestions or help are appreciated. And yes, the current forecast for Tuesday is 100.
Thanks!
Zelda
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
41/365 Tent Part The Last
The tent is gone. Zelda mentioned it to me in passing on, of course, my front porch. I went back into the kitchen later and looked out the back door. Yup, gone. Another small mystery solved.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
40/365 Class
There's a situation on my block that I'm not going to blog about because it would be hard to disguise the characters and it's all based on rumor and supposition at this point anyway. But something was said in passing that sort of slapped me across the face. Essentially, something bad may or may not be coming to pass for one of the families on the block, and another neighbor, upon hearing this, said, "Good."
I know we're not one big happy family here between the sycamores. I know that. There have been conflicts, large and small, throughout the 12 years we've lived here. But most of the conflicts seem to have been either about crime (and therefore, heated) or differences of opinion, like about the parking situation or the condos or whatever. Some of those opinion-based conflicts got VERY heated, in fact there was a time when I contemplated planting a for sale sign in my front yard, I was so ticked off. But somehow, none of that lasts. Crime comes and goes, decisions get made, everyone gets mad at the alderman. We have a mah jongg night or a block party and things start to simmer down.
So this, I mean, it wasn't a big thing, but it was demonstrative of an attitude about living here and who should or shouldn't be allowed to live here. Who should be invited to the parties and who should have stars upon thars kind of thing. I mean, sure, if we had some absentee landlord properties with transient renters who threw dog poop on our cars or something, yeah, that would be one thing. Nuisance properties and nuisance neighbors should be dealt with and when they are, there should be a "whew, glad that's over." But the family in question, the only thing they really have going against them is that they aren't Our Kind of People. It's a class thing--they aren't from a different ethnic or racial group, they didn't move here from some puzzling foreign culture, they don't throw wild crazy parties, they don't throw dog poop on our cars. They're just, pretty obviously, from a lower socioeconomic group than most of the block--and when I say most of the block, I mean most of the block NOW. Many of us come from lowly origins. But we threw out the frosted hair, frosted jeans, frosted lipstick, we scrubbed off the motor oil and keep our fingernails clean. Like my dad said, life always look better out a classroom window than from behind a lathe. But this family doesn't hide it.
And I, for one, could give a rat's ass. They're good neighbors. I know if I needed something, I could knock on their door and they'd help without thinking about it. I've built up layers upon layers of conversations and helpful neighbor moments with them and, frankly, I can talk their language. I am not offended by them because there is nothing offensive about them.
Zelda told me to let it roll off my back. Don't take the neighbor who said that seriously. I'm not going to change her. I guess it just made me realize that when or if this family leaves, my family is the lowest (or very near the lowest) on that totem pole. I mean, come on, we've all seen my house and my tattooed siblings and my grandmother who steals plants from national forests and my laundry line and so forth. Yeah, we have adorably adorable kids, and that will keep us on some lists, but it made me realize I need to get to work on my protective coloration.
Or, do what Zelda said and just say WHATEVER. Move on.
I know we're not one big happy family here between the sycamores. I know that. There have been conflicts, large and small, throughout the 12 years we've lived here. But most of the conflicts seem to have been either about crime (and therefore, heated) or differences of opinion, like about the parking situation or the condos or whatever. Some of those opinion-based conflicts got VERY heated, in fact there was a time when I contemplated planting a for sale sign in my front yard, I was so ticked off. But somehow, none of that lasts. Crime comes and goes, decisions get made, everyone gets mad at the alderman. We have a mah jongg night or a block party and things start to simmer down.
So this, I mean, it wasn't a big thing, but it was demonstrative of an attitude about living here and who should or shouldn't be allowed to live here. Who should be invited to the parties and who should have stars upon thars kind of thing. I mean, sure, if we had some absentee landlord properties with transient renters who threw dog poop on our cars or something, yeah, that would be one thing. Nuisance properties and nuisance neighbors should be dealt with and when they are, there should be a "whew, glad that's over." But the family in question, the only thing they really have going against them is that they aren't Our Kind of People. It's a class thing--they aren't from a different ethnic or racial group, they didn't move here from some puzzling foreign culture, they don't throw wild crazy parties, they don't throw dog poop on our cars. They're just, pretty obviously, from a lower socioeconomic group than most of the block--and when I say most of the block, I mean most of the block NOW. Many of us come from lowly origins. But we threw out the frosted hair, frosted jeans, frosted lipstick, we scrubbed off the motor oil and keep our fingernails clean. Like my dad said, life always look better out a classroom window than from behind a lathe. But this family doesn't hide it.
And I, for one, could give a rat's ass. They're good neighbors. I know if I needed something, I could knock on their door and they'd help without thinking about it. I've built up layers upon layers of conversations and helpful neighbor moments with them and, frankly, I can talk their language. I am not offended by them because there is nothing offensive about them.
Zelda told me to let it roll off my back. Don't take the neighbor who said that seriously. I'm not going to change her. I guess it just made me realize that when or if this family leaves, my family is the lowest (or very near the lowest) on that totem pole. I mean, come on, we've all seen my house and my tattooed siblings and my grandmother who steals plants from national forests and my laundry line and so forth. Yeah, we have adorably adorable kids, and that will keep us on some lists, but it made me realize I need to get to work on my protective coloration.
Or, do what Zelda said and just say WHATEVER. Move on.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
39/365 Tent Meet
"Oh, I met the people with the tent," Travis mentions as we sit on his front stoop swatting at mosquitoes. It's silly--all the kids have retreated to my living room, but we're outside.
"Did you ask them about the tent?"
"No, didn't get that far. But seemed like nice people. They know Barb and Andrew, a few other people on their block. But what was weird was how we met."
He goes on to describe a sadly typical event. A car parked in the alley, as Travis approaches, the car speeds away down the alley and makes a U-turn on Grand. Look-out vehicle? Casing something to rob later?
"So anyway, they pulled up then behind you, in the truck, and we talked about the car. Didn't ask about the tent. But I told them about the block party. Maybe they'll come."
And maybe I'll ask them about the tent when I meet them...
"Did you ask them about the tent?"
"No, didn't get that far. But seemed like nice people. They know Barb and Andrew, a few other people on their block. But what was weird was how we met."
He goes on to describe a sadly typical event. A car parked in the alley, as Travis approaches, the car speeds away down the alley and makes a U-turn on Grand. Look-out vehicle? Casing something to rob later?
"So anyway, they pulled up then behind you, in the truck, and we talked about the car. Didn't ask about the tent. But I told them about the block party. Maybe they'll come."
And maybe I'll ask them about the tent when I meet them...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
37/365 Basil, King Billy, and Absolutely Not
I went out to the garden to pick basil after Billy fell asleep sitting next to me on the couch. Pesto is happening tonight. A little late for peak basil, but better than the last two years when we had....no pesto.
So I picked a stuffed to the gills paper grocery bag full, a small but nice looking cucumber (I've pickled 11 quarts of cucumbers this weekend, so we're starting over with teeny ones), some chard and some parsley--definitely not enough to balance the basil in pesto, but we'll go with what we have. I don't miss the parsley when it's not there, but Jake does.
I came in and there were girls in my house: Fiona, Daisy, Eliza, Bree, and Iris. Can they play at the house? Sure, I told them, but don't wake Billy.
"Well, when he gets up we're going to play with King Billy!" Iris announced. Daisy started jumping up and down.
"That's great," I tell them honestly. Anytime I get them to play with the 18 month old is fine with me.
I get the mail and put my shoes away in the front hall baskets. I'm heading back to the kitchen to start work on de-leafing the basil when Fiona approaches me with my knitting. "Where should I put this?"
It had been on the coffee table. "It's fine where it is, or the bag behind the couch," I say, not really caring.
"We're going to build a castle for King Billy in the living room!" she says gleefully. I glance into the living room then and see Bree and Iris moving the coffee table around. The ottoman to the big chair is already in the dining room.
"No," I shake my head at all of them--they know me as Fiona's mom, but also as a girl scout leader. "You're not making a huge old mess."
Fiona puts on her sad puppy dog face.
"Absolutely not."
Bree looks around awkwardly like she does when I say things with finality. I don't like to make her uncomfortable, so I back off a bit. "I'm just, the living room is clean. You're welcome to play, but don't make a big old mess for me."
They decide to watch Batman (the cartoon from the 90s, the good one) and play smaller games on the living room floor. I come back up here to take my afternoon thyroid medication and there he goes. King Billy awakes.
Deep breath.
He nurses back down and my afternoon goes as planned.
So I picked a stuffed to the gills paper grocery bag full, a small but nice looking cucumber (I've pickled 11 quarts of cucumbers this weekend, so we're starting over with teeny ones), some chard and some parsley--definitely not enough to balance the basil in pesto, but we'll go with what we have. I don't miss the parsley when it's not there, but Jake does.
I came in and there were girls in my house: Fiona, Daisy, Eliza, Bree, and Iris. Can they play at the house? Sure, I told them, but don't wake Billy.
"Well, when he gets up we're going to play with King Billy!" Iris announced. Daisy started jumping up and down.
"That's great," I tell them honestly. Anytime I get them to play with the 18 month old is fine with me.
I get the mail and put my shoes away in the front hall baskets. I'm heading back to the kitchen to start work on de-leafing the basil when Fiona approaches me with my knitting. "Where should I put this?"
It had been on the coffee table. "It's fine where it is, or the bag behind the couch," I say, not really caring.
"We're going to build a castle for King Billy in the living room!" she says gleefully. I glance into the living room then and see Bree and Iris moving the coffee table around. The ottoman to the big chair is already in the dining room.
"No," I shake my head at all of them--they know me as Fiona's mom, but also as a girl scout leader. "You're not making a huge old mess."
Fiona puts on her sad puppy dog face.
"Absolutely not."
Bree looks around awkwardly like she does when I say things with finality. I don't like to make her uncomfortable, so I back off a bit. "I'm just, the living room is clean. You're welcome to play, but don't make a big old mess for me."
They decide to watch Batman (the cartoon from the 90s, the good one) and play smaller games on the living room floor. I come back up here to take my afternoon thyroid medication and there he goes. King Billy awakes.
Deep breath.
He nurses back down and my afternoon goes as planned.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
36/365 Spend the Night
The thunderstorm came up fast and drenched the yards. The sweetgum out front lost a branch. We were home from the movie, Daisy having a bedtime treat before heading in to the guest room for the night--Fiona was spending the night at Bree's house.
I thought about Fiona, about how she's a bit timid. She'd had a long day already with an Irish dance competition and the sheer heat of summer. So I called.
Zelda answered the phone. It was a girls' night with a friend from girl scouts as well--Travis and Noah were camping with some other neighbor guys. I asked her how it was going, if Fiona was ok.
"Oh! Sure, we're playing Uno and talking."
I got off the phone before my contact created trouble. Jealous of girls' night. But Jake was home after a full week of business travel and it was good to be home.
I thought about Fiona, about how she's a bit timid. She'd had a long day already with an Irish dance competition and the sheer heat of summer. So I called.
Zelda answered the phone. It was a girls' night with a friend from girl scouts as well--Travis and Noah were camping with some other neighbor guys. I asked her how it was going, if Fiona was ok.
"Oh! Sure, we're playing Uno and talking."
I got off the phone before my contact created trouble. Jealous of girls' night. But Jake was home after a full week of business travel and it was good to be home.
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