Neighbors are a dying breed, don’t you think? Yeah, you say, if I live in a neighborhood I have neighbors. No, that just means you have people living next door to you, around you. I am talking about people that you actually like, that you don’t mind knocking on your door for a cup of sugar, or brandy. Someone that can see you at 6 pm on a Sunday, in your pajamas, still hungover and not judge you. And will still have no problem with you watching their kids! Those are the ones I am talking about. Haven’t we all lived in apartment buildings where we had no idea what the people living around us looked like? Unless they knocked on the door and asked us to turn the music down? In one building, I knew the dog’s name, but could never remember the owner’s name. I saw them every day, always together. I was too embarassed to admit I thought the dog of more consequence than his owner. Or developments where you see the people living next to you and you wave and you say quietly to yourself please don’t come and talk to me today. Although in those same developments I sure could put together stories about those people I wished away. But I have to say, I am neighboring in a couple of ‘hoods now. You see in one of them I have made myself an honorary neighbor. It’s okay. It didn’t have to go before a board or anything. You know, I really don’t feel it necessary to discuss it with them at all. I am totally sure they are fine with it. They’re all so cool and there are so many couples hanging out. They probably don’t even know it’s not my ‘hood. I think they are all just like who’s that, she’s so cool, she must be from right down the street. And then there is my real neighborhood. Where I thankfully do not get in quite so much trouble! For once in my life, I have real cup of sugar neighbors. Wonderful people that are just like family, in a good way! Who else can I borrow raccoon catching dog food from and catch a opossum instead? And yeah, they did laugh at me when I told them, but I didn’t have the heart to tell them it was their defective food. And who else’s dog will run into our yard to do his business? Hey, perhaps more than I know, right? And there was that little incident with the squirrels hiding the peanuts. Let’s just keep that one in court where it belongs. But they love the treats I make! And everytime their daughter comes in the house she always says-‘what’s cooking? It smells great in here.’ And sometimes, there’s a knock at the door and waiting on the other side are all of their smiling faces with homemade pasta and sauce, a salad(with dressing on the side!), and bread and butter-and all my worries fade away! Until of course I hear them calling for the dog again to get out of my yard!

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