Since it's the weekend, I decided to take a break from blogging about my girls and write about something that's really random. Are my neighbors weird, or is it just me?
The first house we bought in Dallas was in an older, I mean established, neighborhood in Northeast Dallas. We loved the area, we loved the house and we loved our neighbors. The only downside was that we kind of lived in the ghetto. And by ghetto, I mean we were surrounded by apartments that you really wouldn't want to frequent in the day, let alone the night. It was not uncommon for us to be awoken by gunshots, to have strange men at our door asking for money, to have teenagers crash a stolen car in our yard, or to have our car windshield shot out while parked in the driveway. But those are stories for another day.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, my neighbors.
We had great neighbors in Dallas. There was Bob, the 80 year old widower who baked us a cake, had us over for dinner on many occasions, and let me clip roses from his massive rose garden every week. There was the family across the street with their four kids who were always outside and ready to visit. There was Mr. C, another 80ish widower, who knew pretty much everything about everyone in the neighborhood. Then there was the guy next door.
He and his teenage (angst-filled) daughter moved in shortly after we did. I think we met him once, but I never caught his name. He was allegedly an insurance adjuster, but I never saw him leave his house. Mr. C was sure he was in the witness protection program. He kept to himself and was kind of the odd man out on our street. But that's not why I thought he was weird.
I thought he was weird because I would see him playing frisbee by himself all afternoon while bitter angst girl was at school. I would watch as he tossed the disk across the yard, walked around his pool to retrieve it, and tossed it back across the yard. He would seriously do this all afternoon.
Now, before you go and start thinking that I'm the weirdo for watching my neighbor play frisbee all day, let me explain. My kitchen window offered a perfect view of this guy's backyard. At that time, I was a new stay-at-home mom to an infant and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, making bottles, washing bottles, loading the dishwasher, unloading the dishwasher, binging on kit kats. Wait, forget that last part. The point is, I didn't purposefully watch him, he just happened to be outside whenever I was in the kitchen. And I was in the kitchen a lot.
Fast forward five years. We live in a different city, in a different state. We love our new neighborhood (no shootings so far) and have great neighbors. But guess what the guy who lives behind us does all afternoon? That's right--he plays frisbee by himself.
Am I the only one who finds this odd? Are the neighbors weird, or is it just me??
Side Note: Since we moved, I'm told our old neighborhood has undergone something of a transformation. A lot of the really bad apartments are gone and there is a lot of new development. I'm really glad because it was a great place to live. Minus the stolen car crash and drive-by stuff.