Closed for Renovation

Have you noticed that my timeliness for posting over the weekend has gone off the tracks?  (If you said no, consider me offended that you hadn't missed me but moving on...)   I do have excuses and the major one is that I have lost my mind along with the capacity to articulate rational thoughts or ideas.  (AND...if you said to yourself "didn't she always have trouble articulating rational thoughts and ideas?...again I am offended.)

For the last couple of weeks, I just can't seem to get my act together.
Here's the thing about me....When everything is going really well and life seems to be smoothly humming along, I (apparently) feel the need to park a truck full of chickens on the train track of my life just to watch chicken poop fly about when the train hits it.  I am currently mired in metaphorical chicken poop. 

Last week, when I was talking about my long term love/hate relationship of my job as a Realtor, I failed to mention that when it comes to buying houses, I am, in fact, the world's worst customer and consumer.  Fussiest person ever as far as picking out a house and invariably, whatever house I choose will become a money pit. I have proved this tenancy numerous times.  The very house that had me ooohhhing and aahhhing at  first sight, will mysteriously need a complete remodel the minute I move into it.

While I have proven this over and over again during our 21 moves, the most recent example started about 12 years ago, while living in Dallas, Texas.  During that time,  our daughter was planning her wedding and hubby and I were routinely making the 8.5 hour trip between Dallas and Kansas City for various wedding and daughter related events. While I don't specifically remember how  the conversation of  "Let's move to Kansas City!" came about it  probably went something like this.

 Well...besides the pleading being done by our yet-to-be-born grandsons,  we  were possibly feeling rather vulnerable at both the prospect of our little girl being all grown up and about to be married and the evaporation of our checking account due to the impending nuptials. Somewhere in our fuzzy brains we actively began a plan of relocation. We, of course, didn't ask our son-in-law-to-be his opinion on this matter as he might of reconsidered the whole idea of marrying our daughter.  Who knows if hubby and I might be his "deal breaker" and didn't want to put it to a test as we had already paid for the wedding venue. Anyway...We just forged ahead and found a Kansas City Realtor to start looking around for a house that would "work" for us.

As a Realtor, I recognize these "dipping their toes in the water just to test the temperature" types are a colossal pain in the ass for real estate agents, however I was committed to be exactly that for some unfortunate soul that had the misfortune to pick up the phone when I called into a real estate agency.

From that point onward, every trip we made to KC, we asked to see several homes in various neighborhoods to get a "feel" for where we wanted to live.  Now, I am sure you can imagine how well this plays out for some agent to have numerous (and by that I mean too many to count) weekends taken up while someone is using them for a chauffeur and sounding board for a future move that may or may not happen any time soon...and agents get to do this for free because they work solely on commission.  Yeah, sounds like a perfect job, right???

Well..our agent, Debra started out fairly agreeable only to be worn down little by little over the course of mid 2004 into early 2005.  We weren't purposefully trying to be difficult (it comes pretty natural for us without trying) but it was such a hot seller's market at the time, that by the time something came on the market and we drove 8.5 hours to see the house, invariably it had already sold.  The ones that didn't sell the minute they were listed had a REASON they hadn't sold.

Finally in early 2005 we happened upon a house that had some things going for it.  It was on the market only 1 day, was amazingly clean, and was the size and price that was in our wheelhouse.

Debra who by this time could nearly smell the money of her commission finally wafting in her general direction thought that her payday was close at hand. Not so fast, Debra.   After putting in a full price offer, the sellers decided perhaps they had listed too low.  I mean...really...if there were buyers that would pay full price for it after one day, surely the sellers could of gotten more.   So...these sellers being sellers, AKA  greedy,  countered the offer for MORE than the asking price.  Me...being me, AKA stubborn...and being a real estate agent myself, didn't take this laying down. I said NO.  My thought was that there was no way in hell that I was willing to pay more than asking price with no other offers on the table. I figured in a city of 2.5 million people there had to be at least one other house that I would like, even if it took another year to track down.  Of course, when I mentioned this out loud, Debra  turned an odd shade of green and actually swayed a little bit.  I thought she was going to faint but as luck would have it, the sellers conceded to sell for their original price.

Back to my theory that homes are only perfect until you own them....In the last 10 years, every  single year we have done a MAJOR renovation and/or improvement of some type.  I don't think I am alone in this phenomenon but it appears that the same buyer that claims any house to be PERFECT when initially looking at a prospective home will, in fact, need to change EVERYTHING about it once the closing documents get signed.  

Walls have been removed, floors have been replaced, rooms have been gutted and reborn in somewhat the same manner as a Phoenix but in our case the new Phoenix is rising from the ashes of our money.

As for our current craziness...a couple of weeks ago I had this utterly brilliant idea that one of the bathrooms needed freshened up with some new flooring and paint.  ANY one that knows me at all, of course,  knows that the words "freshened up" is code for "take this sucka down to the studs".

One advantage (and maybe the ONLY advantage) of being a real estate agent is that we know a lot of contractors, plumbers and electricians.  This expedites the time it takes from "brilliant idea" to "let's get crackin'"

One of the guys that has done previous work on our mission of tearing down and rebuilding our house bit by bit,  had mentioned he had a window of availability in late August, early September to do this project.  I am fairly secure in telling you that 5 days into this remodel, he is fervently wishing he had never EVER met me.

Why, you ask?  Because hubby and I are total nut jobs when it comes to these renovation projects.  Poor, Kyle the general contractor of this "freshening up" project is learning fairly quickly that whatever he listed on the quote needs to be tweaked a bit.... AND by a bit I mean changed in it's entirety.

Now that we have added a few (OK maybe more than a few) items to the "to do" list, Kyle realizes that he vastly underestimated both the amount of time and money that he needs to allow for.  I recognize the poor guy is exhausted at this point but I just can't seem to help myself from adding or changing the scope of the project daily. Honestly, he should appreciate that he wasn't here for the master bathroom remodel.  On that one, my husband decided to have the contractor remove a wall that opened up into attic space so the walk-in shower could be enlarged.  I am not at all sure that Kyle can appreciate the fact that I have not asked him to tear down any walls...yet.


I have to say there is quite a lot of stress deciding on materials, colors and quality when it comes to bathroom and kitchen remodels. Hence the craziness on my part.  While you might not be losing sleep at night thinking about the pressure of flush toilets or the depth of soaking tubs but believe me those are REAL concerns.  Do not under estimate the difference between Cararra Marble counter tops and quartz that look like marble.  Soft close drawers and non-slam toilet seats are a "thing" and it would appear that those are things I need.... OK, maybe need is a strong word...but Kyle can make those things happen.

Perhaps, some of you that have already taken on bathroom remodels might already know about "golf ball" flushing toilets but I was clueless until recently on this important feature.  While shopping for new toilets, I realize that a whole line of toilets claim that they are capable of flushing an entire bucket of golf balls in a single flush.  I know...I know...you might not ever NEED to flush golf balls but the fact that it is possible to do it if you wanted to with this toilet is impressive.  Once I realized what a wonderful thing it is to have a golf ball flushing toilet, we ordered 4 of them.  Our other 3 bathrooms do, in fact, currently have toilets but not any with super-toilet flushing powers so all 4 bathrooms are about to get "freshened up."  Hope Kyle doesn't have plans for a personal life any time soon.  

Invisible Ties

Last week as I glanced at the Kansas City Star, I was met with the headlines:

Missouri Makes top 10 of most miserable states. 

 I was immediately inundated with questions popping into my head.I mean...really..It's a banner headline in a Missouri newspaper and they are touting it as a "top ten" achievement.  Are they under the impression that this is a GOOD thing?


 Anyway, as I was saying...I have questions.

1.  Was there a contest to enter so the states might  win the"Most Miserable" title and is there a prize?


2.  What qualifies a state to be deemed miserable? 

3. While it's true I live in Kansas, I am just 5 minutes away from the Missouri side of town...does this impact me in some way? Could the Missouri misery spill over to Kansas?

4.  Where did Kansas rate and did it lose points for sharing a town with Missouri?

Most of my regular readers know that I have moved multiple times in my life.  I think I am currently at 39 moves, give or take, .... but 21 moves for sure since my marriage 42 years ago.  So as you might conclude, I have lived in numerous states and have conflicting loyalties.  I have lived in several cities within Missouri and for the life of me,  I never remember feeling miserable.  OK..maybe a tad miserable with morning sickness when Kiddo #2 was born while living in Independence,  Missouri but I can hardly blame the state for that.  I would go so far as to say I have had very pleasant experiences in the state so...really?...how miserable can it be?

Upon further research I find that this" less than flattering" title is a result of a poll done by the Gallup Healthways organization called State of American Well Being. The word MISERABLE isn't exactly what the pollsters had in mind, when creating their study, I would guess.  However, every article I have read related to this poll does refer to M word.  If you would like to see the report in it's entirety you can click here.  There is a link on their website so you can download the full report...but here is the result of the study.

Some climbing and some sliding in a year's time.

After 178,072 people were surveyed  from every state in the Union..these are the winners and/or losers.
As it turned out Kansas came in 20th from the top for well-being....OR if you are a "half glass empty" sort of person we are 30th up from being the most miserable state of the Union.  West Virginia was the winner of that title.

Thought Number One:  Isn't Misery in the Eye of the Beholder?

I looked over the lists and see many of the states I have resided in such as Arkansas, Missouri, Texas, Arizona, Iowa, Nebraska, and Illinois and not one of them has ever taken the top prize for being the least miserable place to live.   In fact, four of them are ranked next to each other.  HMMM...maybe I am so used


Doesn't "MOST" mean they won the
greatest number of points in some catagories?

to being moderately miserable that I have become numb to it....but then when I lived in Iowa and Nebraska wouldn't I have felt the surge of being "less miserable"?  If, so it went unnoticed. 

It could be said if you factor things like longevity, health, workplace safety, job availability, economic climate, and such that "on paper" one state might appear better than the next but is that what a person would need to have a sense of  them well-being?  If we are talking about how stable and secure, or how happy and content a person feels about the place they live in...do any of the hard statistical facts really matter?

How can a study prove statistically why  people (like my husband and I) would leave Texas where it is warm and sunny to live in Kansas*...where it looks like this today...



*Note:  It has already been established at this point that I am not good at picking the "winner" states.

At this point ....you doubt my sanity don't you?

BECAUSE...part of what makes us feel a sense of well being is being near our daughter, son-in-law and grandsons. 

Thought Number Two:  The Ties that Bind

I am on most days very happy in Kansas but this isn't the place that all my ancestors before me made their mark.  I am a relative newcomer to this state so while I am content to live here, I also don't have a firm ties that would keep me from ever moving if my children or grandchildren moved out of the area. Conversely, I wouldn't badmouth the state as it provides me with a safe, decent place to live where I don't worry for my safety. It rankles me a bit when people make negative, stereotypical, comments about the Midwest.

As with most things there are both the good and the bad to every state, province or country a person would choose. 

BUT... back to my point that some people's love of "their" homeland isn't hinging on statistics of how many hospitals or parks are in a certain geographical area... some of the people I have met have such a deep unshakable bond to this state because this is where their family history lies. It is hard to quantify why people are attached to an area. 

Take for example my friend Christi. I have talked about her before to those of you that have been reading my blog for awhile.  She is the friend that died last September while waiting for an organ donor to give her some new lungs.  Christi loved Kansas like no other person I have met.  She loved this state with every ounce of her being. She grew up near the Flint Hills and found a beauty there that most people just can't see in the flat plains of the Midwest.

There is a certain beauty if one goes looking for it but it's easily overlooked in the plainness of the prairie. 

Flint Hills Photography :: James Nedresky photographer --link to website

Christi spent a lot of time in the Flint Hills.  Once she and her husband went hiking in the hills until after dark. They laid down in the tall grass and looked  up at the stars.  She referred to that night as "her starry, starry night"  It was there that  her ashes were scattered.

Christi would have been offended at being ranked 20th...although she might of laughed at the 43rd ranking of Missouri.

Friends Talking to Friends

  With all the moving we have done, I have made a number of friends in a lot of different places.  It isn't really so different than starting a new school. (which, coincidentally, I know something about as I moved 13 times prior to getting married PM plus the 21 moves after marriage AM).  Finding the people that you "click" with is difficult.   When you are new to a school or community  it is hard to know how to meet people that share your same values, sense of humor, same interests etc.  In fact, perhaps having expectations that you are going to meet someone that thinks or lives like you might be counter productive to finding people that would make perfect friends to you.  Perhaps we should not be looking for people with identical personality traits or interests to our own.   Maybe we should look for people that we find "interesting enough to give it a chance" and that we might have "a thing or two"  in common with.  (setting the bar low for me tends to pay off a lot of the time)


When we moved to Texas, I met a few people in the neighborhood that I clicked with but the most interesting group  I came across, was a group of women that I met at the gym.  I joined the gym at Texas Womens' University.  As gyms go it is a fairly small facility who's main purpose is to be used by students and faculty.  They do, however, accept outside members for a fee.  Normally, I go to just the nearest "chain" gym but I liked the smaller environment.

What I discovered is that if I went to the gym on the same days each week at approximately the same time, the same faces were  there. That is true of all gyms but at the TWU gym, for whatever reason, we started talking to each other.  Turns out that talking is very counter-productive to actually getting a workout in.
Too late though, we had discovered a second interest.  We all liked to read and had begun comparing who was reading what.  The book club was formed. 

 The group consisted of :

A woman that creates a syndicated comic strip
An art professor
A flight attendant for Southwest Airlines.
A sculptor
Me (I had my  corporate training company at that time)
A retired grade school teacher
A rancher (not married to a rancher, she is the rancher)

Side Bar:

Our little group kind of reminded me of the John Hughes movie  "The Breakfast Club".  The teens come together with no common denominator other than the fact they are all in detention.  There is a brain, a princess, an athlete, a criminal, and a basket case. 

Our book club had components of all of those with the exception of  the criminal.  In place of that category, let's substitute someone who really marched to their own drummer.  Let's call her our group's non-conformist.


Back to the story:


But here we were, women with all kinds of different personalities, different background, different everything coming together to become friends.  Not over night but little by little discovering a camaraderie.  I am certain the reason we got past the fact we were all so very different and enjoyed each others company is that we were all latent STORYTELLERS.

Perhaps my love of just sitting with people that I are comfortable with and talking  comes from my early childhood. When I was a little girl, I lived with my grandparents for a few years in Arkansas.  At this time in the early 1960's,  this little town would have been considered very "backwoods".  The old men, including my grandpa,  met at the gas station to sit on benches and drink Yoo Hoo and Dr. Pepper and tell stories.  Stories about their childhoods, stories about the local farms, the town gossip, their families and whatever the talk of the day melded into. They too, had their version of the book club without having to read a book.


Whether our book club was a modern version of  The Breakfast Club or of  "old men sitting on a bench"  it started meeting weekly on Tuesdays at one of our homes. Once a week we would meet for a pot luck supper  (had to be healthy) and discussed whatever we had read during the week.  We decided early on it couldn't work like other book clubs where everyone reads the same book.  We all hated each others taste in all things. Clothes, books, home decor, you name it, no common ground in our taste of "things".  As we got to know each other we did focus on our common interests, though.  We all were health nuts, liked  to exercise, like to read a lot, most of us liked to garden, and all were interested in hearing stories about the other people's adventures.  These women had great life stories.  REALLY interesting life experiences.

When you think about it, doesn't EVERYONE have some great stories.  I think, there is so little opportunity to share those stories, though.  Even given the opportunity to share them, a lot of people don't want to listen to someone else's stories. To have a dialog there needs to be storytellers and story listeners.

Is there a need or want in our culture in the 21st century for people to sit together and talk to each other at length?  Not just  small talk but real narratives, about where they come from and how they got to where they are now.  Can friends really get to know each other any more? I envy the people that stayed in one community and still have their childhood friends as their adult friends. Surely, that is a group of friends that know each other.

While I have been one of the last people in America to get on  the Facebook and Twitter train, recently I decided if I want to find out what my family is up to I'd better start participating.  I will say it is fun.  No question about it. As I am still trying to figure out all the ins and outs of social networking, I do recognize I am communicating with some people that I haven't heard from or seen in a lot of years.    Very much a nostalgia shot in the arm. I love seeing their posts and getting to know a little about where they ended up. A big thumbs up and likes for Facebook. 

In a crazy way though, it makes my miss my old friends MORE.  I want to get in my car and go see them in person,  sit down, have tea/coffee and visit.  So many questions that can't be answered in the little tidbits of Facebook or the 140 letters or less of Twitter. 


While this phenomenon of  social network is taking off like a rocket, I like the idea that a person would have a real friend(s) to talk to at length when they feel like talking,  or friends that would just sit with them quietly when they are mourning, grieving, crying or when they are so happy they have their go-to person to share the excitement with. Let's hope the growth of communicating via cyberspace doesn't diminish the act of communicating in person.

 I love meeting up with my current friends for lunch or coffee and just chatting. I miss TALKING to my old  (hate that word old but .... what to use ....not sure ) friends that I have let time and distance separate us.

For the friends that I have left behind, I hate that I have missed out or am missing out on the stories of  your lives.   While I continue to enjoy being with people and hearing about their "stuff", I also recognize this is becoming an obsolete way of having a friend.     To my friends, I will take what I can  get via Twitter, Facebook, email or text. If you want to send something by snail mail, carrier pigeon, or smoke signals, be assured that I will be thrilled to hear from you.

All the same, I sincerely  hope  that some of you have great and interesting stories  and have people to  tell them  to. For the people in my life, I want to be the listener of your stories.









The Good for the day....Reconnecting with friends that you haven't spoken with for a very long time and feeling the same connection that made you friends, way back when....

The Bad for the day....Recognizing that some people you just won't click with. They won't like you and/or you won't like them. Life is short. Move on to a new crowd.

The Weird....
My hairdresser was telling me the most interesting story about a client of his that has multiple personalities.  I am sure we all have seen movies dealing with this phenomenon but, I guess I never thought of it as a "real" disorder.  Depending on where you look for information, though, it seems there is a lot of controversy among mental health care workers as to how to correctly diagnose it.

 He was saying that the woman and her alter ego are having a difference of opinion about smoking cigarettes and the alter (as the alter ego personality is called) keeps driving off in the car and parking it somewhere. When the main personality gets up to go to work, her car is missing.  Now how frustrating that would be? There wouldn't be much you could do about it either.  Can't very well have the alter arrested or you can't punch her lights out.  Wouldn't it be better if these two personalities could be friends?

Because, I am completely conflicted today on which video reflects the subject matter, I am putting in not one BUT TWO 

There is ALWAYS a BAD neighbor

For anyone that is just joining in for the first time, let me bring you up to speed.  My hubby and I have made twenty-one moves in the last 39 years.  A couple of posts ago, I was telling you about the physical part of moving.  (It is both expensive and you get the added bonus that it is a real pain in the ass)  But today, I am going to share some of my stories about the neighborhoods we lived in.  

Neighborhoods are as different as the towns themselves.  Each is it's own little microcosm.  Any neighborhood is as good or bad as the people that live there.  I, not only, have been privy to personally trying to find great neighbors for myself and my family, but professionally, as a real estate agent finding those nice neighbors for my clients.  This is what I know for sure. 

IT IS A ROLL OF THE DICE.  TOTAL CRAP SHOOT!!!!

A neighborhood can look great.  You can knock on the door of the house next to the prospective purchase and the people will tell you wonderful things.  Great schools, nice families, good this, good that, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.  But here is the deal!!
Chances are your new  neighborhood has either a bad neighbor, an unusual neighbor or someone they don't want you to know about yet .  No one is going to advertise to a stranger knocking on their door that they have an odd ball in their midst.

Don't get me wrong.  I always found great neighbors, good friends, nice schools but without exception there has been an INCIDENT.  In a few of our "passing through" neighborhoods we have had several incidents.  


Some of the more notable that quickly come to mind:

Champaign-Urbana, IL.  - This was probably the most normal of all the neighborhoods, we had the pleasure to be in.  We knew the second we walked in the house with the realtor that this was the house.  So charming!!!! The houses up and down the street were charming too.  Young family on one side and an older couple next door.  Love that.  Older couples when we were in our 20's made me feel secure.  Not long after we moved in I am on my driveway playing with my 3 year old'  My kiddo has his big wheel showing me his little tricks.  The driveway was a fairly long one that curved toward the house.  I saw my older neighbor coming down the street at a pretty good clip but didn't think much of it.  He turns into my drive, hits my child on his big wheel, then squeals to a screeching stop.  OMG.  The big wheel is flying, my 3 year old is flying through the air into the bushes. (Great news, that while my kiddo was scared beyond belief, the Big Wheel took the brunt of the hit.   Here's the kicker.  The guy gets out of the car, not even considering that he might have hurt my son and starts yelling at me for being in his driveway.  The guy had the wrong house.  Totally wrong house.  BAD NEIGHBOR!!!! Turns out he was drunk and couldn't find his way home.
Where are those MADD mom's when you need them?? Did that group even exist in the 1970's???


Cedar Rapids, IA  - I will say the most entertaining place we ever lived, BAR NONE.  The oddest dynamic of neighbors that ever lived on the same street.   Some of the best neighborhood pals I would ever have lived on that street but some of the oddest people would live there also.

Right across the street was Mrs B.  Mrs. B  is one of the kindest, sweetest, people that you could possibly meet. We lived in Cedar Rapids from about 1977-1980.  In those days, people that had bipolar disorders were said to have manic depressive syndrome.  I know very little about it except that Mrs. B  warned us early on that if she did anything unusual that meant her meds were out of whack.  Seems her doctors couldn't  find medications that worked for her and when they tried various anti-psychotic drugs, they didn't always work in the appropriate or expected manner. (Surprise !!! odd things happening in the neighborhood today) To this day I am so empathetic to people struggling with bipolar disorders. 

Anyway,  was true to her word.  She would be fine one day and the next, she would have a bonfire in her front yard burning various things.  (It depended on who she was upset with)  At one point she had built an effigy of herself in her wedding dress and was burning her likeness at the stake.  Not something you see everyday.  She would flush her wedding rings down the toilet and throw rocks through her own windows.  The next day though she was as sweet as pie.

SAME NEIGHBORHOOD, DIFFERENT DAY...  Next to Mrs. B.'s house, there live a minister and his family.  This minister was the "fire and brimstone" kind of minister.  He gave the phrase "Holier than Thou" some real clarity.  I got the feeling early on he felt like we weren't quite religious enough as he was constantly wanting to save our souls.   One afternoon, I hear a scream from outside.  I mean a SCREAM.  My now 5 year old (same kiddo that was hit by the car) has a arrow through his face.  A real arrow shaft protruding from his face.  (the shaft hanging out of his upper lip area right under his nose).  While I am usually capable of handling emergencies fairly well, I am losing it at that point.  There is an ARROW IN MY KID'S FACE!!!   The preachers kid was practicing with a real bow and arrow.  He was 13 at the time and kind of stood there saying he was sorry but still.... Anyway, I took kiddo to the emergency room, they called in a plastic surgeon that rebuilt his upper lip.  They said the arrow went in at an angle and took out the soft pallet of his mouth for good measure.  The next day when the dust settled so to speak, hubby and   I go over to have a little chat with the preacher and his wife.  Here's the good part....are you ready????.......He said to me "BOY'S WILL BE BOY'S. But he finished with a God wants us to forgive each other, it is the right thing to do.  NOT EVEN AN APOLOGY!!! I am thinking God wanted him to tell my kiddo that he was sorry that his kid SUCKS as an archer.



SAME NEIGHBORHOOD DIFFERENT DAY... Next to the preacher's house we get a new family in from India.  This poor family was so disoriented.  The wife had come from having a house full of servants in India and knew nothing about cooking, cleaning or anything domestic at all.  At first, I felt extremely sorry for her.  I would help her with little things from time to time. Show her how to mend something or how to sort and do laundry.  Well, this is a case that "no good deed goes unpunished".  I guess she figured if I was capable of keeping house, I must be the servant part of the neighborhood.   My door bell started ringing around 7:00 AM every morning with a list of chores for me to do and a pile of laundry to wash.  I continued to help for a couple of days but tried to convey to her that she had to participate and learn to do for herself.  She wasn't getting the message and I cut her off from my laundry services.  I hope that she figured it out or found someone else to be her servant. She paid me back in spades, though.  Christmas Eve hubby and I go out for supper with friends and when we got home the house was ransacked, robbed and Christmas is gone.  She saw some guys in a white van hanging around and asked if she could help them.  They said they were wondering if we were home as they were friends.  No, I saw them leave.  They aren't home.  Thanks lady!!!


I could go on forever with stories about our various homes.  Maybe on a later post, I will add a few more. There are some real doozies that I haven't touched upon.  But I will close today's post with a story about a Texas neighbor.

Y'all (get it) that have been following along, know that I have a TX pal that lived across the street from me.  Next door to her she had some neighbors that were hysterically funny, the life of the party.  In fact they had parties for every occasion.  The thing about them is they weren't into house upkeep at all.  TX pal's yard was impeccable while the funny party hardy neighbors yard needed MAJOR attention.   They not only kept trash cans (over-flowing) in front of the house but the grass was a mess, the flower beds horrific, and the added bonus was the decorations of whatever the last party was stayed put until the next big blow out.  For example there were still Halloween decorations all over the house and yard at Thanksgiving time.  None of this really affected me much so I comisserated  with TX pal during our morning walks about all the trash and such but is was making her crazy.
One day all the neighbors were standing in front chit chatting about nothing important.  Party guy was there too.  He said "isn't it nice that while most neighbors have a BAD neighbor, this one doesn't."  I was just waiting for TX pal to say

IF YOU CAN'T PICK OUT THE BAD NEIGHBOR, IT IS PROBABLY YOU.!!!


The good for the day....all the good neighbors that were there for me when my kiddo was hurt or shot at or any other time just to be a good friend.


The BAD for the day.... There is less neighboring going on in today's culture.  People hardly know who they live by. 


The weird for the day...My kiddo survived his childhood.