My New Neighbor

The newest and latest addition to my 'hood, is my dear friend Kristin, her highway-patrolman- lover Chris, and their, "Oh God, are these really my parents?" daughter, Kassidy. Kristin thinks that she is a wealthy woman, and now actually has three homes. "Is she wealthy?" you might ask. No, she is just stupid. But she has a plan. Here is our conversation.

-Guess what? I talked to the owner of the rental house on your block, and we are signing the lease tomorrow.
-Really.
-Yep.
-So what about your home in Houston?
-Well, we are going to just keep renting it out, and hope that the renter wants to buy it.
-Really.
-Yep.
-What about your rental house in Kingfisher?
-Well, as soon as OHP gives Chris a definite date of July something, then we can transfer.
-July something, huh. What did you tell your new landlord.
- Well, nothing. Just that we are also home owners, and we know how we like to be treated by our tenants, and they liked us.
-But you lied to them, and didn't tell them they may or may not get their rent, because you may or may not get transferred.
-Well, yeah.
-Your not living with me.

Welcome to the neighborhood friend. I am actually quite excited that you are coming, and look forward to many late night trips to Bueno for party burritos.

Still Here

To the many of you that know me, you are well aware that the last three or more months of my life have been a roller coaster. My once ill-conceived, happily-ever-after, exsistance has become a rated R, grade B movie. Chocked full of cussing, crying, visits to the Oklahoma County jail, police searches, and, just like a grade B movie, lots of money being spent for not so good outcomes. The events that have unfolded before me are overwhelming. This is hard, this is very hard. My brother has found himself in trouble. The boy I thought knew has become someone I am just learning about. He is someone I loved before all of this, and he is someone I will continue to love through all of this. He is so young, yet he faces charges and decisions that even the oldest, wisest person would break under. As a family we are attempting to understand and cope. Yesterday was a dark day for us. Please bear with me through this most difficult time, and know that I will return to normal again, even if that normal is just a little different than before.

Just Me and a Boy

Red Earth Festival

Many of you may not be aware of this, but this year my neighborhood has agreed to host a portion of the Red Earth Festival. Yes, Yes, our neighborhood association is just that good.

First, we kicked off the festival by having city workers come out and dig up our front yards. Thus exposing the Red Earth that we are so pround of.

Then, as a neighborhood, we decorated our cars in different shades of earth. I chose a lighter red shade. I thought it complimented the silver of my station wagon. I also chose to keep the coloring minimal and only display it on the bottom half of the car. Others in the neighboorhood chose to decorate their cars with Red Earth on their windshields, sideview mirrors, and tail lights. But I believe this to be tacky and over-accessorizing.

And finally, because we are are so spirited about this, we have put out port-a-potties for those of you who come to tour the neighborhood. These potties have been overcrowded by sweaty city workers, but if you wait your turn you too can enjoy the ammenities.

Oh My Darlin'

My grandmother was a born and raised Yankee. She hailed from a town called Worcester, Massachusetts, pronounced Wu-ster. She was appalled at anyone who would wrongly call it War-chester, including a weatherman named Rick Mitchell, who she promptly called and corrected. Pronunciation of this fine new England town is a must. Most of her adult life she had to live with the puzzled look of the okies when she would ask them questions like, "Where did I pahk(park) my cah(car)?", or, "Can you hand me that fauk(fork)?". The last one was a favorite of ours, mainly because we could get her to say it over and over again on cue. My grandmother, who would die before profanity would cross her lips, never understood the sophomoric humor behind that word.
So with much disdain grandma lived her life in El Reno, Oklahoma. Never letting go of her New England roots or accent. So I am pretty sure that in her little corner of Heaven she is not going to see this video clip of her great -granddaughter being just as Okie as they come. Her hair is actually wet but it looks greasy and I think that makes it even better, well that and the little burp at the end.

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