I’m married to Peter Griffin! Well, not exactly. My husband isn’t a cartoon character, and he sure doesn’t look like Peter from the Family guy … But at times, well, he sure acts an awful lot like Peter!
He’s always starting projects around the house, and coming up with ideas that end up getting him into trouble. Usually into trouble with me.
I’m thinking of this past weekend as Neighbors weekend. It started Saturday with Chris going outside to hang our Canadian flag. The whole post, flag included, blew off our house in a windstorm late last fall and with the bad weather we just decided to not put the flag back out again until spring. That day was Saturday.
He’d asked me to give him a hand positioning the flag pole as he had to drill new holes into the brick, but before I could come out of the house our neighbors adult kids were over and offering advice. It was like watching a construction crew at work; one worker and the rest standing around looking like foremen telling the one working what to do. It shouldn’t have been a difficult job, but it some how became one.
The beer came out and the voices got louder. My husband talks loud, especially when he’s outside with the guys. I could occasionally hear him call out to others as they walked by or stepped out onto their porch “Hey Neighbor!”. Gee, maybe I’m married to Ed Flanders from the Simpsons? That’s what it always reminds me of when he calls out this phrase.
With that job finally finished the neighbors and my husband moved to the backyard. Chris had started painting the small picket fence at the end of our drive a few weeks ago. Our elderly neighbor Sophie shares part of this small fence with us and her son had said he’d paint her side as well. Naturally, her kids never got around to doing it, and after seeing how nice our side looked she’d been insisting that we paint it for her.
We some how seem to end up doing everything for her, rather than her own kids doing the odd jobs around the house. We’ve been getting frustrated with this, so when it came to painting her side of the fence we stalled. Every time Sofie’s sons have been over we’ve mentioned the painting job to them, usually after Sofie herself had pointed it out and asked us AGAIN to paint it for her.
He son promised he’d do it but never did. So finally on Saturday, after Chris went to the store to get more paint (which Sofie paid for), we pulled out our own brushes and handed them to her son and grandson and said here you go- paint! Chris did some touch ups on our side while they painted her side of the fence.
The flow of beer continued, and the small job was finally done.
By this time it was perhaps 7 pm. I was ready to eat and had already prepared dinner – it just needed to be BBQ’ed by the hubby. However, at 6:30 our boarder had mysteriously decided to go out. He’d said he’d come home for dinner … but, uh we were just about to have dinner when he left. Arghhh. He didn’t come home until close to 9 p.m and by that time I was pretty upset at him and my husband was no where to be found!
Now nothing in here describes my husbands “Peterness”, but believe me, if you saw him interacting with the neighbors or the way he acts around me at times, he’s at least 60% Peter Griffin.
While we were waiting for our boarder to return home, Chris was outside and one of the other neighbors called him over and asked if he could help move some things. Chris told me he’d be 10 minutes. Did I believe him? No way! Time in Chrisland is extended. 10 minutes is close to an hour in real people time.
The neighbors he was helping this time are these two really cool gay guys. They’re a hoot to hang around with, but since I was waiting for Chris to come back I wasn’t totally impressed that Chris had gone over to help. Chris ended up coming back with two other neighbors that we hadn’t met before. He was showing them our garden. This time it was two ladies and their dog.
When our boarder finally came back, and I got Chris to stop interacting with the neighbors, we got down to the business of eating dinner. After dinner I went back outside to finish watering the garden- a job I had started while I was waiting to get dinner going. By this time it was at least 10 pm.
Chris came out with his guitar and played for me while I sprayed the garden. How sweet is that? Live music, songs sung to me while I worked in the moonlight? Nice.
We moved to the front yard to finish the garden work, but Chris’ guitar playing was attracting attention. The husband of the only neighbor I really dislike happened to see and hear us outside and waved at us through his open window. His wife is the one that I talked about in an earlier post who, both times that she’s been here, I’ve ended up taking care of her baby. The last time her kid was walking around eating my flowers – ones that I thought might be poisonous. She’s a winner!
The husband seems like an ok guy, a bit whipped perhaps, but he’s definitely nicer than she is. He came out of his house and wandered over to listen to Chris play guitar. More beer flowed. More neighbors poked their head out to enjoy the music. Drunk party girls walked by trying to entice my husband to play something for them – he didn’t.
It was close to 1 a.m. by the time we went back into the house. How does watering the garden turn into a 3 hour job? Well, for most people it doesn’t, but if you are like me and you live in Chrisland that’s the way things go. Everything slows down, sounds get louder, and strangers come over at all hours of the day and night.
Lets see, all in all, we were visited by or visited 8 or more neighbors on Saturday. Sunday was a slower neighbor day – it only involved 5 neighbors and his mom and aunt dropping in unexpectedly. Today will likely include people from work dropping by. Oh life in Chrisland, don’t you envy me?
It’s a wonder that I ever get anything done around here.
) She recently went fire engine red. I guess 64 will do that to ya.
Great post tricia. Not many this long keep me reading but I had to find out the story. Cracked me up…”hey neighbor!”
I’m off to visit/comment your renter on C&C day. Have a great Monday, girl. Thanks for renting.