Skip to main content

Oh My Clan

We've got new neighbors. Have I mentioned this? They bought the house next door, and when I say next door I'm talking over the hedge next door. I'm talking they stay up late or have a fight and you know it-over the hedge-next door neighbors. I'm always nervous of these sorts of neighbors (which anyone whose read this blog for an entire year would understand). So you can imagine my despondency when I found out that it was not one family moving in but the entire CLAN. We're talking at least nine people--grandma, daughters, cousins and offspring, half of all of these being teenage boys.

Teenage boys with cars with bass. Heaven above! Why me?! I've had exactly one set of amiable neighbors in my entire married life (these being the previous tenants of over the hedge house).

There is a silver lining to this cloud however. It comes in the form of the next-next door neighbor, or rather the clan moving between me and him.

You see we've been tending this dog for a few months. She's a nice dog, we really like her and she causes next to no problems for us (well aside from her mad desire to dig a tunnel to China, but all dogs do that). She's quiet, nice, and playful... And she eats any rabbits dumb enough to enter her kennel.

So Star (the dog) went on vacation for a month and when she got back she was a little out of sorts. There was a little more barking than usual, but nothing excessive. At least that's what we thought. Next-next door neighbor thought otherwise and came over to tell us just how much... At 6 PM, not exactly the time of day you expect people to come tell you they are entitled to peace and quiet (especially when they live across the street from the baseball fields)... And rent their houses. I was a little perturbed.

Anyway, fast forward 24 hours and I (and Stars owners) received a vengeful blessing in the form of 'the clan.' That was the day the bass thumping cars pulled up, accompanied by their three (yes... three) dogs. *maniacal laugh of retribution* One of them is even a hound... A howling hound. I love it and whenever I hear those dogs wailing at the moon I think to myself 'take that Mr. 6PM entitled to my quiet.'

Hmm does that mean that maybe I'm not the best neighbor? If so I've had years of practice in getting here.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Altered Shoe Art: Ring Holder Shoe Tutorial

This was my week two craft for So You Think You're Crafty. I placed third that week for this one. I thought you might enjoy finding out how I made it.


I tried about a million different decorations before settling on one that didn't drown out my rings. I wanted them to the focal point. This is also why I went with black fabric and not something more vivid.

Don't be intimidated by the lack of 101 I'm giving you. It really is a straight forward sort of project. If you know how to use a glue gun without burning yourself you can do this. Just be sure to dust off your imaginative brain space first. :)

The one important thing you might be wondering is how I got the pink fabric to stick to the shoe. I really just Mod Podged it on.

There are several different ways to make ring tubes that you can find online. One I saw used that colored foam paper stuff that you find in the kids craft section. I thought that might have been easier, but I had scraps of batting lying around so I …

How-To Pretend You Work For Anthropologie

The problem with Anthropologie is that they cost way too much money. WAY TOO MUCH! I mean, come on--these book boxes:

Cost $68-$188!

Do you have that kind of money?

I don't, but you know what I do have? I have a library with a cart full of free books that no one really cares about! So guess what I did... I made my own (and then I gave them away because I really don't have anywhere to put them).

Here's how.
















What do you think?

Mutterings of a Middle-Aged Dreamer

Use your words, my dear sweet soul, they are inside of you... So find them. Write, you silly girl, write so hard the world will never forget you.
But does it matter if the world remembers you? 
Age begins to press its hands upon your chest and the need to be remembered seems to increase with the pressure. 
Stop.
That's not a line of thought you're interested in pursuing. 
Live in the now.
Does it matter if the world remembers you if your neighbor is going hungry? 
Perhaps age is merely pushing you out the door. 
Go. Live in the now.