Another New Neighbor: Part Two

I am happy to report that the meeting with the new neighbor went well. Then again, I hope these coffee talks don’t become a regular thing.

When my husband first told me that our new neighbor was coming over for coffee the next morning, my first reaction was, “This isn’t Wisteria Lane.” I mean, you know just show up at someone’s house expecting them to give you coffee and listen to you talk. Alas, I relented, made a large pot and awaited his arrival. My husband made both chocolate chip and blueberry muffins. We talked about typical getting-to-know-you stuff like how we met, what the neighborhood is like, San Francisco’s bipolarism, blah blah blah. Overall it was a good talk. I don’t see us becoming besties or anything, but at least we can be friendly towards one another and have bite-sized conversations when in passing. The jury is still out on if he wants more, however.

Another New Neighbor

Apparently our neighbor has been dying to meet me since he moved in next door. So much so that he has invited himself over for coffee this morning. This should prove interesting.

I’m not exactly sure what to expect from someone so aggressive about meeting us because we are “family.” To clarify, he’s also gay. Now, when I think of family, I think of, you know, my family and really close friends, not random strangers who share the same sexual orientation I do. The term may make more sense where gays are ostracized and hidden code is necessary to ensure one’s safety, but here in the Pacific Northwest? Not so much. From what my husband has told me, he’s from San Francisco, arguably the gayest city of them all. I don’t know. Maybe they have a close-knit community or something, but here we just sort of blend in to the rest of society. Hopefully he won’t be clingy and get all stereotypical on us.

Neighbors

I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that we have neighbors who actually want to be neighborly. It is mind boggling, I tell you.

Our next door neighbors are super friendly. Our dogs, on the other hand, like to pick fights with each other. Hopefully we can introduce them to each other soon so they can stop bickering between the fence whenever they are outside. Anyway, the neighbors recently acquired chicks and have been very interested in our coop, watering system, the whole chicken-chilada. Last night after a Tour-de-Coop, we sat around and talked some more, getting to know each other better. We’ve hung out before, and the more I get to know them the more I like them. It is great to have neighbors you can be friends with, but it saddens me if and when we have to move out because the guy who owns the house is ready to move back in.

Neighbor Chicks

Our friends and family usually will either walk right into the house or knock lightly then walk in. Rarely does our doorbell ring except for the landlord or solicitors.

Last night there was ring of our doorbell. Our dog was unimpressed as she was apparently napping until I got up to investigate. It was one of our neighbors asking if we had some time to answer a few questions about chickens because they just got some chicks. We immediately said yes. I know, we’re geeks like that.

Ready to put our chicken knowledge to the test, they started in with how much heat and light the newborn chicks they had just picked up from one of the local feed stores as we watched them roam around inside a Rubbermaid tote. After we told them what breeds they probably have, we moved on to the backyard where they had to possibilities for building a chicken coop. Now, their available space is actually less than ours, but they have a dog run on the side of the house and an old playground with a built-in play house their kids are all too old to use. Both of these areas would be perfect for keeping chickens with just some minor adjustments. We’re going to have to have them over to take a look at our coop to get an idea of what the chickens would need. 

Neighbors

Living in a neighborhood usually means you will have neighbors. Sometimes those neighbors are friendly and other times they are asses. We’ve been fortunate enough to have had mostly great neighbors both here and where we used to live. It certainly makes for a better living environment than if we all argued over which side of the fence the blackberries and ivy was coming from. For the record, the blackberries were from their side and the ivy was on both, but only because it spread from their side onto our side of the fence.

Anyway, last night we were invited over to our next door neighbors’s house for margaritas and games. At first we were a little hesitant because, well, we would have just said our goodbyes to my brother and his family as they were driving back to California, and because, well, we don’t know them all too well. But we decided to go for it. I’m so glad we did. We had a blast getting to know each other and playing games with their friends and coworkers and kids. It almost makes me want to make our house presentable enough to have them over for dinner. Almost.

Neighbors and Pyrotechnics

Our neighbor across the street likes fireworks… a lot. I mean alotalotalotalotalot.

We are fortunate enough to live in an area where there is usually a pretty good Fourth of July Independence Day show just on our street. So we decided to invite people over to spend the day at our house then for those who were still here when darkness began to fall, we moved our chairs out to the driveway and watched a magnificent display. It was amazing and we only occasionally were hit with random shells. It had gotten a little chilly, so it was also a great excuse to pull out my quilts and show everyone before we wrapped them over our laps and legs to watch the show.

Charlotte's Zucchini Cookies

Few memories are as ingrained in my childhood as strongly as my neighbor, Charlotte. Or perhaps more appropriately her famous zucchini cookies.

Right after my parents split up we moved in with the man who would eventually become my stepdad. It wasn’t long before we got to know all of the neighbors in the cul-de-sac. Well, all but one, but that’s because they were, well, crotchety stuck up snobs who thought they were better than everyone else. They also lived right next door to Charlotte, who was anything but and also our first sitter from the neighborhood.

Charlotte was one of those people who always had an ear to lend, a hug to give, and a knack for teaching people how to play Parcheesi. And it seemed like summer and fall would bring what I thought was an endless supply of her zucchini cookies. I distinctly remember initially being put off by the thought of zucchini in cookies, but the word cookie took greater priority as a kid and so I tried them anyway. Soft, chewy and muffin-like, they were delicious.

While I’m sure Charlotte is no longer with us, and I’m sure her recipe for zucchini cookies may be as well, I still think you should try to make a batch yourself. Especially with all that zucchini growing in the garden this time of year!

Cory’s Zucchini Cookies (Inspired by Charlotte)

Ingredients

½ cup butter, softened

1 cup sugar

1 egg

2 small or 1 medium zucchini, grated

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon cloves

½ teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated

Beat the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy, mix in the egg followed by the zucchini (about 1 to 1 1/2 cups.) In a separate bowl, mix together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. If using salted butter, you can either omit or leave the salt in. Personally, I leave it in. Stir in the flour mixture once the zucchini is incorporated into the butter mixture. Cover bowl and refrigerate for about an hour.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Using a two tablespoon ice cream scoop or two spoons, drop cookies onto a parchment lined cookie sheet and bake for about 10 minutes. It may be a minute or two longer or shorter on either side depending on your oven. Basically bake until you see the edges of the cookies start to brown. The tops may not look done, but they will continue to cook. Let rest on cookie sheet for a few minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool, which fortunately only takes about ten minutes.

You can add all sorts of things to these cookies, from raisins and walnuts to chocolate chips, but personally I like them without. However, like all recipes, experiment, have fun, and make it your own!

Independence and Incontinence

Ah, the joys of fireworks and pets. And the fact that neglectful owners forgot to let their dog out to go potty last night meant presents in the morning.

Okay, so I’ll freely admit that this morning’s little (well, not little) accident Lucy, our Great Dane, left us this morning was completely our fault. Without thinking of it, we both went to bed without letting her out to go potty last night. Part of it may have been because we were all on our back deck enjoying the fireworks from our neighbors party and we may have both assumed that at some point she went, but obviously that wasn’t the case. While I thought it was originally just poop, and rather nicely formed and solid turds at that, I stepped in wetness on my way to pick them up. Ugh, I really, really, REALLY HATE CARPET!!!

So I grabbed a couple old towels from the garage to sop up the mess and got out the carpet cleaner spray bottle stuff that I have to unscrew the nozzle off and hold the bottle at an angle just to get the damned stuff to come out and sprayed profusely all over the sites. Normally I would’ve just used a little vinegar after soaking up the liquid, but alas, hardwood floors are not the same as carpet. At least the carpets already look like crap so a little more won’t make any difference.

Well, I will admit that while the neighbors across the street were setting off fireworks last night, it was rather enjoyable to watch. Although dodging shells as the dropped back down wasn’t so fun, at least none of us were hit. Next year I’ll make sure she goes potty before we go to bed. Hopefully.

I hope you all have a happy and safe Independence Day. I mean, it is, after all, the only time of year (most) parents allow their three year old to handle a lighted sparkling metal stick burning at twelve-hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

Fireworks

I can understand people wanting to shoot off fireworks for the Fourth of July. But I don’t understand why people insist on bursting their bombs into the wee hours of the night on the days leading up to it as well.

Fireworks have their place, which is to mark celebrations on a grand scale. In my opinion, they do not belong in the hands of minors and drunks, but alas, that is usually where they end up. I suppose I’d feel different if we didn’t have cats freaking out the last few nights or kids trying to sleep. Then again, probably not. I’ve never really been a big fireworks fan, other than as an observer. At least our dog doesn’t mind them at all.

Although, I suppose I do have to thank our landlord for telling us that Independence Day in this neighborhood is pretty crazy before we moved in. However, I wasn’t expecting the sheer amount of fireworks going off. I mean, we moved from an area where there were quite a few white trash people across the street in various forms of mobile dwellings ranging from manufactured homes, travel trailers and old school buses that fortunately were out of view from the street thanks to a thick line of pine trees. But their blatant pyromaniacy was quite prominent. It makes me wonder why people can’t afford to buy their kids decent clothes, but have the money to spend hundreds of dollars on a few minutes worth of crappy entertainment. Okay, so now I’m just being mean, but seriously, the cost isn’t worth the end results. I can think of many other things to spend that money on.

I guess I just don’t understand the whole fascination with lighting them off myself when I can watch them at various places for free with better displays than anything sold on the market. While large crowds aren’t really my thing either, I’d still rather watch them at Fort Vancouver here in town or drive up to Longview, Washington for the display around Lake Sacajawea than watch our neighbors light off their inferior rockets. I know many people will disagree with me on this issue, but I’m just saying I can think of far more important things to spend my money on. However, I suppose I also must take into account that these displays are partially funded by sales of fireworks from official stands, so to that end, I also must thank those same people for funding these shows.

Neighbors

Yesterday was probably the oddest day of my life. We actually met neighbors… a lot of them.

Okay, so we had been in our old house for over thirteen years and met two neighbors; the one to our left and the one to our right. That’s about it. Oh sure, we’ve seen others, but as far as having actual conversations, those two are it. Yesterday as my husband and I were unloading yet another load, one of the neighbors a couple houses down from us came up and introduced herself and we struck up a conversation, along with her husband and one of her four kids. Then we took Lucy for a walk. I couldn’t tell you how many people we had to stop and talk to during our short walk around the neighborhood before getting the mail, but I know that everybody was super friendly and practically everyone had dogs and all wanted to say hello to ours. Quite honestly it was rather refreshing to see that neighbors really do exist.

At first I was a little creeped out by it, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this is going to be nice. Seeing people actually use their front porches, kids riding their bikes with abandon in the middle of the street, coyotes howling at night. Okay, so that last part, while I like the thought of hearing them, does give me some worry about the cats accidentally getting out and the chickens when we move them over tomorrow, but we have a plan to make the coop a little more secure than it is currently. I mean, we built the thing to withstand 200 mile per hour winds and raccoons, not coyotes.

Anyway, I think it will be nice living in an actual neighborhood, one where we can actually walk without fear of getting run over by cars and that actually has sidewalks and streetlights. And so far the people we’ve met have been great, which I was a little worried about. Considering they had their suspicions about the previous tenants being, well, slobs, I know that we will be better neighbors to them. Yes, I think this is exactly what we need at this point in our lives.

New Neighbors Mystery Project Revealed

The new neighbors cleared out the blackberries and leveled the ground and then stopped, probably due to the rain… until yesterday.

My partner noticed that they are putting something in where they cleared out the ground behind the fence on the south side of our property yesterday afternoon. It’s an out of the way area that gets a good amount of morning and early afternoon light, but is fairly shaded most of the time. At first we think it to be a shed, but then I notice the posts are only about four feet high. Then I wonder if it is a playhouse for the little girl, as there are a lot of boys and the only other female kid is probably pushing eighteen. However, last night, our dog Lucy went outside to go potty, and was intrigued by whatever was on the other side of the fence, which could only mean one thing… there were animals. Was it a run for their Chihuahua mix, or was it possibly a chicken coop? I tell my partner and he announces that if they get a rooster, we’re getting one too!

So this morning rolls around after a late night watching St. Elmo’s Fire with our friends Laura and Ashley and I casually glance out the window to make sure the squirrels or some evil nighttime woodland creature hasn’t tore up our vegetable garden again, and notice there are indeed live creatures behind the fence in that corner. And through a hole in the fence that was covered over in chicken wire years ago before we ever moved in I see the unmistakable stance of a chicken scratching and pecking at the ground. The neighbors do have chickens! Now, I am dressed in a pair of Tootsie Roll Pop pajama bottoms covered with Mr. Owl and yesterday’s T-shirt, but decide that I want to investigate without making it look suspicious why I am going outside dressed as I am and not letting out the chickens, so I grab the half-full compost bowl on the counter and make my way to the upper part of the backyard. After dumping the compost into the compost bin, I walk closer to the fence to see what lies on the other side. It’s what I would call a ghetto, but a lot of urban chicken farmers do simply gather what they either have or can scrounge up, chicken coop. Well, technically it is garden fencing on three sides, open top, an old large plastic dog kennel I assume to be the henhouse, and a large piece of plywood covering the front. And of course, chickens. About six, I believe, and all different kinds.

Okay, so now that we know that they have chickens, and they obviously know we have chickens as ours are on our side of the fence, just the north side of our property, do we introduce ourselves yet? Why am I making such a big deal out of talking to new neighbors who have now been in the house for a month? And where were they hiding these adult specimens all this time… the garage? How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop? Yes, all these questions are running through my head at once, and I decide, well, we will introduce ourselves at a time that doesn’t seem weird, like while we are both working in the yard, or cleaning out our coops.

And on a side note, yes I understand that I have been writing about the Half Bath Renovation, but we hit a little bit of a snag where the toilet flange is concerned. Isn’t that a funny word, flange? Flange flange flange! Anyway, I painted a second coat on the walls, which dramatically improved the look and so the room is completely painted and ready for the concrete backer board installation, which hopefully will be today. But c’mon, I had to write about the neighbors chickens, and probably would have interrupted our regularly scheduled Half Bath Renovation anyway!

New Neighbors

The house directly behind us is like a revolving door. Just when you get used to someone living there, they move.

When we first moved into our house, the neighbors behind us were a young family and always seemed to be in their backyard playing baseball or volleyball. They’d even play into the night, as there was a large pole with two floodlights on the top that lit up the yard nicely. But a few years later they moved on and the house sat empty. It would be five years before anyone else moved into the place, which meant that our busy street at least had a quiet area… our backyard. Of course, with nobody living there or taking care of the yard except for the occasional lawn service to mow the grass, the plants, bushes and trees quickly got out of hand. And so did the blackberries.

Ever since that first late summer day when we moved into our house, we noticed there were blackberries all over the back fence, as well as where our current rock garden is. One of the first things we did, with a lot of help from my partner’s mom and dad on a rare joint venture as they’d been divorced for nearly a decade at that point, was clear out the blackberry vines that had taken over that whole area of the backyard, which is only a small part at thirty feet long by 6 feet wide. The back fence on the other hand was not a priority as it was on the upper level of the backyard accessible by stone steps built into the retaining wall that splits the backyard in half, and we rarely went up there. Well, rarely except to pick blackberries for delicious blackberry cobbler.

Over the years, we eventually hired someone to clear out all the ivy, blackberries and holly along the fence, and with that, the only blackberries we’d get would come from the neighbors on the other side, on vines that crept over the fence and bent back down into our yard, in a property that still sat empty. When we decided to actually use the upper level for a vegetable garden and chicken coop, and planned their locations, naturally somebody moved into the house. We found out they were renters, and that they had a pair of dogs (that quickly turned into four) and a teenage daughter. Needless to say, our bitches didn’t get along. And by bitches, I mean our female dogs. The male on the other hand, was fascinated with the chickens, and tore down part of the back fence and knocked over another section in his pursuit of them. At first, we were amicable about the situation, and they fixed the fence up and apologized profusely. But after the fifth or sixth time of dealing with it, pictures were taken and Animal Control was called. Does that make us bad neighbors, or simply concerned livestock owners?

Well, it wasn’t long before these new neighbors decided that between their slumlord who wouldn’t fix things in the house to make it legally livable, and our rickety fence that couldn’t contain their dogs, that it was time for them to move on. And so once again, the house sat empty, but this time for only six months until an elderly man and a woman I could only guess was his daughter moved in. Four months later, they were gone, and the only impact we noticed from them was their lively choice of paint colors quite visible through their windows. It’d be yet another six months before our current neighbors would arrive. We still haven’t met them, though my partner keeps saying we should go introduce ourselves and offer them some eggs, as backyard chicken owners tend to do. From the looks of things, it’s either one really big family, or two families living together, and lots of kids ranging from toddlers to teenagers, who all seem to enjoy playing soccer at all hours.

One day, while doing the dishes, I noticed the guy I assumed to be the dad was hacking away at the brush along the fence line with a machete. Within a few days, the entire fence line and our source of blackberries was cleared out. While I am glad that they did this, as nobody since that first family kept most of the blackberries under control, it really shows how badly that fence needs to be replaced. And now that they’ve cleared out that whole area, they found the large steel pole with the two floodlights on it that was previously covered in blackberry vines, which means their late night soccer ball kicking might be extended.

So I guess the thing is, do neighbors still welcome newbies to the neighborhood, or do we live in an age where everybody pretty much keeps to themselves? I’d hope that we would be the first, but it has been about three weeks since they moved in and we have yet to even talk to them. Something tells me the time has come to say hello and give them a carton of eggs, as they are taking up too much room in our fridge as of late!