Foot in...pot?

Yesterday we had an early Easter celebration, since Child is going to be in Utah over Easter while I remain here in CA and work.  While we were outside hunting eggs, I noticed our back-fence neighbor out watering his ducks and chickens.  I went over to say hello.

Mr. Chicken seemed a nice gentleman, although it quickly became apparent that he didn't have a very high opinion of the previous residents of our home.

"Apparently the low opinion is universal," I said.  "A few days ago I met Mr. RV, our next-door neighbor, and one of the first things he asked me was if I was growing pot!  Ha ha!"

Mr. Chicken didn't blink.  "I'm growing pot," he said.

Mr. Chicken clearly wasn't joking.  "Just two or three plants," he added.  "I have a lot of neurological problems and it's medicinal.  I grow it legal."

Oh.  Okay.  Note to self: you live in California now.

(Edit: I should add that Mr. Duck called me up this morning and asked that I meet him by our back fence.  There, he presented us with the nicest flat of 18 eggs from his chickens, as well as bacon, hash browns, and a jar of raspberry jam.  He's a very nice neighbor.)

Random Pictures

While working in my upstairs office (this was at our old house), I heard a strange bird-like noise. I went downstairs to investigate, and after a moment found out what the noise was. Apparently our next-door neighbors were keeping chickens in their backyard. Or at least one. She was doing her best to keep her feet out of the snow.


Due to some difficulties in getting to our bank, we simply cashed my last paycheck. Ash was excited to see that much money in one place.


She also takes after her daddy in liking power tools.

Nice neighbors

Our downstairs neighbors are really nice. We found out that our ISP wouldn't be able to get us Internet service before February 4 (?!) so our neighbors were nice enough to let us borrow their wireless password.

Working online is much easier when you're not doing it on an iPhone over the cellphone network.

Three Doors Down

To go from inside our house out to the backyard, we have to pass through three doors.

The first door leads to a small room where you can go left to the downstairs tenants or right to a small hallway.

If you go through the door on the right to the hallway, you then have the option of going right again into the garage, or out the end of the hallway to freedom and two feet of snow.

If I'm ever being chased by an ax-wielding serial killer, my plan is to run into that maze of doors and get him so lost he ends up in the downstairs neighbors' apartment, where he can satiate his bloodlust while I escape out the front door.

On the other hand, they're really nice neighbors, so maybe I should lead him into the garage where I can overwhelm him with car exhaust fumes while holding him off with tomato cages.

Hooray for kind neighbors!

When you think about taking a meal to a neighbor, it's usually when they're sick, just had a baby, or something along those lines.

I have to say, though, it's incredibly nice to have someone invite you over for a meal during Moving Week. A few days before you move, your entire kitchen is backed up, your refrigerator and cupboards are bare because you don't want to move food with you, and you're left either eating out or eating Cup o' Soups.

It's even better when they send you home with two full plates of leftovers for a second meal.