Now, anonymous and easily offended readers you may as well stop reading here because I love my neighbor Acel and his adorable but certifiably dementia addled wife Oral, and no, I'm not even making up those names. I wouldn't trade them for any other neighbors, except if my BFF Suz or the Nurse Boys or McTavishes wanted to move into their house, then my neighbor devotion might fade a bit but until that happens, which will be never, traitors, I am utterly devoted to Acel and Oral (You just can't say those names together often enough) so just stop reading now if you are feeling the need to condemn... Erhmm, back to story...
So, I was watching Acel as he broke up the ice that forms along the curb when it snows and doesn't get driven over. He comes out nearly every afternoon to chip and hack at it then spread what he breaks off out in the middle of the road so it will melt. I was thinking that older folks are a
That led me to a tangent of Acel and Oral stories, which include my 12 and 13 year old helping Acel irrigate from 12:30 AM - 2:00 AM and the stories he tells them...yikes. And, Oral's many trips across the street looking for her 2 year old twins, whom she is sure Acel gave to me, "That old *%##%^@#$%^!" Or, the multiple times she has walked unannounced into my house, at any hour, in any weather, dressed only in thin pajamas and flip flops, with a stack of towels and a package of Kotex because she dreamed I was bleeding to death. Yeah, you're telling me! Certifiable!
Yet despite their antics or perhaps because of them they are some of our favorite neighbors and we're pretty sure that the five gallon ice cream bucket with a bow on the handle, filled with potatoes and oranges on Christmas morning was from them.
So today I was coloring my roots, I know, I too am stunned that I have gray hairs, and therefore was wearing my fuzzy blue bathrobe with a towel pinned over my shoulders by a hair clip, I had coloring goo in my hair and halfway down my forehead. I was waiting patiently for the clock to say, "times up, jump in the shower." When, the doorbell rang, the dog started barking and #4 answered the door to a salesman.
There was a time I wouldn't answer the door if I hadn't showered and dressed for the day. There was a time when I wouldn't set foot out of my bedroom without a bra on.
Today I stood in my open doorway, wearing a bathrobe/towel ensemble, gooey hair, forehead turning a lovely shade of Dark Reddish Brown, dog shoving his head between, around and through my legs to get at this fascinating stranger, and chatted about milk, people I knew who had worked for Winder Dairy, his wife going to dental hygienist school and whether she might be able to get a job at the hospital where I work with the darling young salesman whose' dark slightly curly hair, gorgeous eyes and square jaw could have landed him a job as Clark Kent's double.
When I said no to his offer of everything free he had, plus no sign-up fee, gave him my phone number to call back in May, grabbed the dang dog and closed the door #4 stood shaking his head. "You do realize you just carried on a 10 minute conversation with a total stranger dressed in your bathrobe?" He said.
It occurred to me as I showered the coloring goo out of my hair, "It's happened, I am dangerously close to being as crazy as Acel and Oral."