Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Things are looking up in the gayborhood

Katy nearly made me crap my pants by screaming:
"OHHHH MY GOD...
OHMYGOD...HE'S...HE'S..."

Let me set the stage: I'm blogging in a procrastinatory effort to avoid leaving for work. JB is in the crib a room away, zoning out for his substitute "commute nap" (he normally falls asleep for the 1/2 hr ride on his way to school, but when he stays home or it is a non-school day, we still call it a 'commute nap'.) Katy is also a room away when the panicked shouting begins...

My heart stops and then starts pounding fast. I jump up to see what the WHAT is... for some reason, I've heard her say "HE IS ON THE ROOF!" I don't know who I think she might be referring to, but I don't want anyone on the roof at all right now...

"WHAT IS IT..." i shout, running towards her...

She is looking out the window of our guest room out the street: "HE'S RUNNING. HE'S RUNNING OUTSIDE." At this point, I pray to god she doesn't mean the baby or some stranger that has taken the baby...

"WHO IS RUNNING?!?"

"THE NEIGHBOR! HE'S RUNNING. OUTSIDE. FOR EXERCISE!!!"

Once I understand this is unrelated to our child- which took a few respiratory cycles of time,
I accept all the shouting as appropriate and WNL. For 3 years we never saw our neighbor move at all around the outdoors without a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He is slender and active: he's the dude with the fairytale-like lawn and yard, but he is a big time smoker and by "active" i mean push a mower with a butt in your mouth. A few months back, he had a heart attack and was hospitalized for a week. He didn't feel good on the cardiac and cholesterol meds and he made some "changes". They told us that between the 2 of them, our neighbors were spending $500 a month- wholesale, buying cigarettes online. This spring they both quit. Last month, when kt was jogging, he said, "I gotta get out there too."

We never thought we'd see the day, but this morning, the day arrived. In all the excitement, I think i need a stress test now.

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