There's Always That One House

When I need to check the mail, I always drive in the back way to our neighborhood since the mail boxes are all together and a few houses away from ours.

There's always that one house. Every day there is a different brand new car or SUV in the driveway, wedged in behind the huge boat, which has never left the drive the entire time we've lived here. Plopped directly in the front yard is what appears to be a trailer for transporting automobiles or race cars. What you don't see in the above photo is the other side of the street where a brand new Mecerdes sits, beside yet another one.

You never see anyone go in or come out of the house and the porch light stays on twenty four seven. Every once in a while there will be someone in the driveway working on an ATV or motorcycle or even the huge boat.

Then a day or two later, the Land Rover will be moved across the street. My point is, if you can afford all these expensive toys you can most certainly afford to store them in a unit somewhere, where we don't all have to see or drive around them on a daily basis.

It drives me nuts (short drive) but can't stand all the clutter. I call it the "Rico House."


Then on the other side of us a couple of doors down, is a house where I've never seen a living soul.

Talk about a horticulturist!   You can't even see the house for all the plants and flowers.

At least it's pretty to look at but never, ever see anyone tending to or watering it. I guess they garden at night.



Then across the street from us, we have our self appointed neighborhood watch peep.

Actually it's not so much Gladys as it is her husband, Abner. He has cameras on every corner of his house, including front and back. His garage door stays open and mans the watch from right inside, smoke in one hand and brewski in the other. He also has two little loudly yapping dogs and one seemingly mute bassett hound. Our next door (new friends) neighbors told us he actually watches all the video tapes. One Saturday when the students held a protest at the college across the street from our backyards, he told my next door neighbor not to worry, he had his shotgun handy.

Are you kidding me?

I actually kinda like having someone watching out for the neighborhood, especially with Tim working out of town every other week.

Our old subdivision back in Georgia was much the same. We had one house slap full of crazies, we called them vampires. By 'we' I mean Massey and me. They let their son start smoking in middle school and would even smoke with him as he waited on the school bus in his front yard.

Weirdos.

Then we had the snobby neighbor across the street who said less than ten words to us in over twenty years. His wife was even more snooty. When my nephew and his wife started renting our house last October, my nephew said he threw up his hand to wave at them every time he pulled in or out of our driveway for a month without them ever waving back. He said he gave up after the first month and just keeps two hands on the wheel now.

Go figure.

We only have a few short months left here in this dysfunctional neighborhood and will move into what am sure will be another another one, in some shape, form or fashion.

At least we'll be even closer to the beach!

So another random thing...

Last night at work, a cook went to the dumpster, five feet from the back door and came back in to let us know there was a gator out back.

Shut the Front Door!

Of course about ten of us went out the back door to see it. It was a baby, but still one which could easily take your finger (or toe) off.

I'm not even crazy about the thousand lizards that live in our yard, driveway, walkway, porches, screens and windows.

Tiny dragons if you ask me (or our three dogs). They have these little puffy orange throats that expand like a bubble and totally creep me out.

The gator was about two feet long. That's two feet longer than I like to see, but you know me...I had to go take a look at it.

Where's that neighbor with a shot gun when you need him?

What kinda worried me was its momma might  be looking for it.

Orlando native to the rescue...certainly not me.

Crazy ass server, aptly named "Hope" picked the dang thing up and took it across the road to release near water in a huge field. Damn, she looks thrilled... holding a tiny future pair of shoes, belt or purse.

It's been really different living here. They have cranes, (I call them flamingos) who are as tall as me and stand two feet way from you, refusing to move out of the way.

Dude...you're in a handicap spot!!  

You drive on toll roads and see bald eagles soar above you.

Now that's a pretty impressive thing to see.

You wake up to hear your (Georgia) pups growling at the back sliding window one morning and a hawk with a five foot wing span is sitting on your fence post...chilling, less than thirty feet away.

You can wake up on a beautiful day, have a couple of hours to spare...jump in your car and be sitting on the beach in thirty two minutes.

I think maybe I've spent too much time thinking about how much I miss home rather than thinking about how much I'm enjoying our new one.

I'll always miss Georgia. 

But why not embrace where we've been planted?

About three weeks after we moved here, my daughter put this on our chalkboard in the kitchen.

It's a place where I've always left inspirational quotes or thoughts for me, my husband and the kids.

When living in Georgia, I changed it almost daily. I've left this one here for over six months just as a reminder.

I am finally blooming again, where we've been planted. We're growing...and sure beats picking off dead leaves and just hoping the plant survives.

Life is a journey.

Make the best of your own journey, and enjoy ever twist and turn of it. It's a straight, flat, never changing journey which dulls your mind and makes you fall asleep at the wheel of life.

There are lessons in life to be learned and reasons for them to be learned.

I've learned a lot but fully expect to learn a whole  lot more.

May sound cliche' but Older is Wiser.

Time may change me...but I can't change time.

Till next time...Orlando Proud Cotton