Friday, May 2, 2008

The Welcome Wagon

The house next door to us has been empty since we moved in. Two years ago. And of course any time we would see there were people looking at it, Uberman and I would size them up and hope beyond hope they were cool and not crazy like the family that lived next door in our previous neighborhood. Oh and let me just tell you, that's a blog for another day. Those people were cuckoo for coco puffs.

Anyhoo, we often played the "Oh I hope they can be our new best friends" game. Uberman grew up in a neighborhood where everyone was like family and they walked in and out of each other's homes. He loved that. And since I grew up in about 85 neighborhoods, I never really had that but always wanted it. Although, I am not even sure if there are neighborhoods like that anymore. But either way, we had fun coming up with a wish list of characteristics for our new next door best friends. He would have to be interested in cars and sports, especially baseball, and have an appreciation for foreign beer. She would have to be fun and friendly, but not prettier than I, and always let me be the leader and dominate the conversation. Plus it would be a bonus if she liked to scrapbook and do crafty stuff. And of course they would have to have three kids, two boys and a girl, just like us, around the same ages as our kids. You know, typical stuff everyone wants for their neighbors slash new BFF's.

So last week we were totally stoked when we saw the house had been sold. Finally! Cool new neighbors to cap off our whole this is the perfect neighborhood other than the new sex offender but still so glad we live here dream come true. (Jess, please don't hate me for that sentence.)

This week, as we have been coming and going, we have seen some moving trucks and boxes being unloaded in the garage, but no sign of the actual new owners. Then yesterday, I was rushing to get each boy to separate baseball games in separate locations, on time no less, when I thought I saw, what I thought may be, the new She Neighbor in her garage. Now seeing as I was in a MAJOR hurry and I wasn't even really sure that was her, and she wasn't even looking at me, I got in the car. I backed out of the driveway, and just as I was turning to back into the street I thought I caught a glimpse of someone jogging right behind the right side of my rear bumper. I slammed on the brake and craned my neck to the right to confirm there was indeed a person behind me.

I almost, almost, sort of, um, hit her. Yep. It was her. The new She Neighbor. And she was pissed. She spun around giving me the "What the hell?" hands in the air sign. You know what I'm talking about, right? I rolled down the passenger window and gave her a little wave.

Me: (smiling apologetically) I am so sorry! I didn't see you!
She: I'm right here.
Me: Um, yeah, I know. I am really sorry. Really, I am so embarrassed.
She: (shakes head and spins around, does the little "What the hell?" sign again, starts jogging away)
Me: Sorry...
Junior: Yeah, I don't think you guys are gonna be friends.
Me: Yeah, well, she exercises.

I should have told her that's how we roll in this neighborhood. Instead of bringing you a muffin basket, we just try to run you down. It's our own version of hazing. Our little way of saying "Welcome!"

I replayed the whole story for Uberman. He's like "Great. We're trying to make a good impression and you tried to kill her." I didn't actually hit her. I missed her by at least 12 inches. And yeah, I probably should have been a little more careful backing out. But she was perfectly safe and sound and able to run off without any medical intervention. I don't know what she's all bent out of shape over. And I said sorry. Uberman suggested I bake them some cookies and take it over as a peace offering.

But something tells me she's not much of cookie eater. And I may have been able to overlook the jogging, but if you don't eat cookies, you're dead to me.


aschmoel said...

This almost tops my story of letting my neighbor call me Adrian for 5 years!

Katie said...

Cookies. Always bring cookies. Even if she jogs, no one can resist cookies! And make a cute little "I'm sorry I almost killed you, welcome to the neighborhood" crafty card. Nothing says "will you be my BFF" like cookies...unless she thinks they have poison baked in...

Becky said...

To heck with the cookies...bake some hashish brownies...that way she will get the munchies and pack on some pounds. She will be too fat to run under the rear wheel of your car.

Oh, and make sure they get several copies of the sex offender letter. That way maybe they will panic and move out...and I will happily move in next door.

I have kids in every age group...just pick one, and I am not as pretty, not as thin, and definitely a social scrapbooking crafty nerd wannabe.

Becky, the maid

Bogart in P Towne said...

You don't need a BFF that can't take an apology.

The cookies thing would be the final straw...but then, you are just guessing. Maybe she runs so she CAN eat cookies.

Just say'n.

Anonymous said...

Well... you could take her a case of vitamin water... or some tasteless sawdusty energy bars... or, I know... some heavy duty anti-perspirant... or, how about a wheatgrass enema?

kristen s said...

Hey April, I finally have a few moments to myself on the computer so that I can post on your blog! Woo Hoo!

The new 'She Neighbor' should know that jogging is actually hazardous to her health. If she didn't jog, she would be heavier, and therefore easier to spot in your rearview mirror. All that exercise has made her too thin to see easily, so the whole thing was really HER fault, and she owes you an apology for the mental anguish she has put you through, along with the blemish she might have left on your bumper if your reflexes weren't so impressive.

I think you should go knock on the door with a plate of cookies, give her an obnoxious show of the "what the hell hands", (you'll have to put the cookies down for a minute to do this well), shove a cookie in your mouth, blame her for making you so upset by the whole altercation that she DROVE you to eat cookies, shake your head and just walk away....taking the rest of your cookies with you, of course. That'd show her.

And, just my opinion here, but if she were BFF worthy, she certainly wouldn't jog. Talk really loud outside about how you're so glad someone finally bought the house the murder took place in and maybe she'll move.

April said...

Ladies and Gentlemen - please welcome to the stage - The lovely Kristen!! (Thunderous Applause)

You need your own blog babe. As soon as you get that last kid off to preschool, get on it! The blogosphere needs you! Tell her, everyone. Oh wait, I forget I am the only person who knows her. Trust me, she is HILARIOUS. We were quite a team, back in the day. Training Corporate America, kicking ass and taking names, One customer service rep at a time. Holy Shnykee do I miss you. :)

Jessie said...

Oh my gosh! Where to start, okay with me.

Yes, I had to re-read that sentence a few times before I clicked on the link. And then when I did click the link, the sentence became intelligble. Hilarious.

"What the hell" hands? Brilliant.

Kristen, your post almost outdid the Queen. Bravo! I would read your blog; any friend of April's is probably one whom I'd like.

April, that neighbor can not be your friend. She's just not good enough. I secretly think she was trying to flag you down to introduce herself, but once you almost killed her she called it off. You can probably assume that your boys will never have their stray balls returned to them. And they probably have large dogs that bark really loud way past 10 pm.

Now of course you can't be friends with her, or at least you can not give her your blog address because now we've all ragged on her.

Mom Taxi Julie said...

LOL we "met" the new neighbor when neighbor when my dog ran IN THEIR HOUSE. We aren't the best of friends...